#could have angel with a shotgun applied to it

[ojforbreakfast]

I may just be delusional but for years whenever Ive listened to Vegas Skies by The Cab I cant help but think of soriku, but like I said I could just be delusional

[bonkusdonkus]

I’ve been thinking about bunnies again!

A while ago, I made a list of list ideas, headcanons, and hombrew thoughts on the Harengon, one of my favorite D&D races. Mostly because WotC just kind of slapped them into a book, mumbled something about how they like freedom, and left it at that, and I didn’t like that.

Well I’ve had more ideas since then!

I will now shotgun them onto the Internet so others may steal and\or get inspiration from them! Same rules apply as last time, Harengon and Rabbit folk are interchangeable terms, you can use any of these you like, or don’t! Okay! Let’s talk about bunnies!

Harengon traditionally have extremely long, extremely difficult to remember names. Their names are often literal paragraphs long, or even multiple pages. Some Rabbit Folk actually have names so long they literally need a novel sized book to write them down, and that’s just their first name. Harengon surnames can be encyclopedia sized. On average. As bizarre as it sounds, there is a reason for this. It’s a defense mechanism! In the Feywild, names have immense power. Giving a Fae your full name can have terrible consequences. So, being native to the Feywild, the Harengon counteracted this by making their names impossibly long and complicated, so that remembering them to use against them is near impossible. Plus, many Fae have short attention spans, by the time they’re even halfway through reciting their name, the dangerous Fae will probably just get bored and leave. Obviously, in every day life most Harengon only use a part of their full name, but traditionally all harengon are taught to memorize the full thing, just in case.

It’s common knowledge that Harengon are considered lucky. They have an unusual propensity for pulling victory from the jaws of defeat, or landing that one-in-a-million chance. Hilariously, this means that many casinos or gambling dens often ban Rabbit Folk from playing. Less amusingly though, it has also led to some ugly superstitions. One fairly harmless belief is that a kiss from a Harengon grants the kissed good luck. Some considerably less harmless beliefs are that drinking Harengon blood will give their luck to the drinker, or that having a charm made from Harengon teeth will ward off misfortune. There is little to no evidence that either of these superstitions are true, but doesn’t stop the depraved or the desperate from trying to find out…

On occasion, a Harengon will be born with pure red eyes. No pupils, no whites, just red. These Rabbitfolk are typically referred to as Unfortunates. Not because they’re particularly unlucky, but because they have a peculiar… Aura, let’s call it. Whereas normal Rabbitfolk are known for their supernatural luck, Unfortunates seem to almost suck the luck out of people around them. Specifically, people who wrong them. This is a very difficult thing to catalogue or measure, so it very well could just be a cultural belief of the Harengon, and not an actual phenomenon. But, well, they are from the Feywild. It also could be true…

Harengon aren’t immune to poison, but they are immune to several notable poisonous plants, such as hemlock and nightshade. In fact, they think these plants are quite tasty. They often eat them raw in salads, or cooked much like spinach. But the most famous use of these poisons, is the infamous Snake Blood wine. A potent, magically charged alcoholic wine said to taste like angel’s dreams and unicorn tears. Fanciful descriptions aside aside, it is an exceptionally valuable item, a luxury among luxuries. Brewing it is not only extremely difficult and time consuming, the method is a jealously guarded secret among the Harengon. And while it is still very much poisonous to most species, It can be imbibed by non-harengon, in very, VERY small amounts. Because of this, among wine enthusiasts, it’s become something of a pilgrimage or right of passage to taste the legendary Snake Blood wine of the Rabbitfolk.

One of the most common jokes people make about Harengon is that they love carrots. Because, you know, bunnies. The Rabbitfolk have no particular attachment to carrots, culturally or biologically. Though it’s not unheard of for them to like the orange vegetables, it’s no different than if a human liked them, just a matter of personal preference. However, some Harengon have heard so many stupid carrot jokes, that they have developed a deep seated hatred of them. There are multiple incidents of Harengon actively going out of their way to destroy carrots, out of sheer spite.

[general-sleepy]

Assigning Saw Traps to Dracula Characters:

Because this is how my mind works. Also, I previously mentioned I was playing with this and @animate-mush encouraged my bad behavior. (With brief summaries of the traps if you're not as disastrously obsessed with the Saw series as I am.

Seward: I can honestly really see Jack in Lawrence's place in the Bathroom Trap (the main setup of the first movie, you wake up in a room with a stranger and you have to murder them or several of your loved ones will be killed; also in order to murder them you have to cut off your foot). Both of them are physicians who are emotionally disconnected and generally don't appreciate their lives. Honestly, though, I don't think the self-amputation aspect of the trap would be that huge of a deal for Jack. He might think it's kind of morbidly interesting.

Jonathan: I wasn't sure about this at first, but I decided Jonathan could take Adam's role in the Bathroom Trap. Adam is being punished for being passive, which is also a trait of Jonathan at the beginning of the novel; though due to politeness and a desire to please, rather than Adam's internalized homophobia unspecified mental illness. So, they have to suffer the wages of their own passivity, being helpless to another (implicitly more important) person's whims. Honestly, I can see John Kramer looking at Jonathan and getting big "pawn in someone else's game" energy. (Note that this applies to Jonathan pre-novel; post-novel, John would be very sore about Jon's willingness to die for/with Mina, because loving someone so much you couldn't live without them is pretty cringe tbh).

Arthur: Jigsaw would honestly struggle to find a reason to throw Art into a murder game. Maybe if he didn't process the grief of losing nearly everyone he loves in a few months in exactly the way John Kramer approved of. He'd probably get stuck in one of the more basic ones. Maybe the Venus Fly Trap (there's like a mini iron maiden around your neck and you have to cut out your eye to get the key surgically implanted behind it to get out of it). Arthur's a tough guy, though; honestly, I think he could get through it.

Quincey: Maybe Rigg's game (being faced with a variety of people in Saw traps and being encouraged not to help them, because either they deserve to die or they can only recover by "helping" themselves). We know that Quincey is self-sacrificing and willing to put his neck out to help near-strangers because for some reason he believes concern for others is a valuable reason to risk your own life. However, I imagine that Quincey would help rescue a victim of domestic violence, instead of deciding that she won't learn anything unless she pulls herself up by her bootstraps and helps herself (by killing her husband and suffering horrible pain, because DV victims are just complacent).

Lucy: Lucy and William Easton don't have a lot in common, but I realized his trap would fit for her. William's trap is super complicated, but mostly he has to go through a variety of situations where he decides who lives and who dies. Like, having to decide whether to kill a healthy young orphan with no friends or family and a chronically ill wife and mother, both of whom have done literally nothing wrong. Or having to decide which two of five people to save from being shot in the chest with a shotgun. This is the worst thing that could happen to Lucy, a boundlessly loving people-pleaser. That might be why he puts her in a trap, to encourage her to stand up for herself or something.

Mina: My immediate instinct was the Angel Trap (you're hooked up to this rig that is going to rip your ribs open unless you can fish the key out of a bottle of acid before it melts), mostly because of her and Kerry giving me kind of similar vibes. Kerry, a cop, is put in the trap because she's apparently obsessed with death more than the living, though really it seems like she's just too close to catching Jigsaw. Mina is fascinated by ghost stories and reads about criminology. She's, in a way, suicidal, and John Kramer absolutely cannot stand that. John would say that becoming a vampire is still close enough to living that you should still appreciate it.

Van Helsing: I was struggling to figure this out until I saw Saw X. Van Helsing is obsessed with brains and intellect and feels himself to be intellectually superior, so I think the brain surgery trap (you have to cut out a certain amount of your own brain tissue or your head gets roasted in a kind of mini-brazen bull) would fit. Maybe the instructions/insult tape would be something like, "You think you know what's going on in my brain, let's see if you know what's going on in yours." Something dumb like that.

[cellard0ors]

"So, what now?" Travis asks and Laura looks around, "The caravan shouldn't be too far from here. I don't know for certain that's where she died, but it seems like the most logical place. Unfortunately, since Silas's cage is nearby, that makes it all his territory. We won't have long to search before he might..."

She seems reluctant to continue and Travis can understand why. He doesn't have werewolf blood with him - normally he would, but he hadn't had a chance to apply it before he caught her down by the lake.

They're both armed and Travis knows guns can scare werewolves off, if not kill them (silver bullets needed for that), but Silas is no doubt a whole different breed altogether, what with being a werewolf born.

Laura must know that he's thinking all of this as she looks at him, her face set, "Like I told you - he usually avoids me, acts like I'm not there unless I push. For you-!"

"I'm a red flag in front of a bull." Travis nods knowingly, "No protection."

"I won't let anything happen to you." Laura swears with vicious intensity, "I won't."

Travis speaks to her with just as much, "Just don't do anything crazy."

She smirks, "Not my style."

He can't help but smirk back and he withdraws his weapon, double checking it. Laura does the same with her shotgun and, after her nod, the two slowly begin to make their way forward - deeper into the lair of the beast.

Travis keeps an ear out for any suspicious sounds, which gets him to thinking, "Could you sing to him?"

Laura looks over at him over one of her shoulders and he clarifies, "Silas - can you sing to him?"

She shakes her head, "Mer song doesn't work on him when he's in this form. I used it a lot when we were traveling together and he was in his human form. I'd use it to comfort him, soothe him - help him feel loved "

Travis looks wistful, "Wish I got songs like those. Instead of, you know..."

Laura looks stricken, "I didn't want to sing to you, I didn't want to take your memories, I just didn't know what else to-!"

"I'm not blaming you." He reassures her, "I'm just saying I'd like to hear you sing something sometime...I bet you sound like an angel."

There's an eye roll at the compliment and he doesn't blame her for it - as far as compliments go, it's rather cheesy, but he truly means it. He has no doubt her voice is gorgeous while singing.

It makes him wish he could play an instrument to accompany her.

...well, an instrument better than the harmonica.

These lighthearted thoughts help as they approach the burnt out husk of Silas's cage. At first there's no sign of anything that could remotely connect to Eliza, but then Laura's flashlight pins off a collection of thorns and creeper vines that have woven themselves thickly around something that reflects back at them.

Something metal.

They edge closer and Travis eases some of the brush away to reveal a thick, rusted bit of rebar. Within that is the smell of old ash and something else, something decaying.

Travis pulls the growth farther apart, cursing under his breath as some of the thorns catch him but as Laura shines the light in deeper, they see it.

Bone.

It looks... unnatural. Picked clean and vibrant and just as Travis mutters 'Holy shit' his back explodes in pain, Silas howling with triumph as he rakes his claws across it.

Flesh and uniform give easily and Travis's hold on the brush is lost as he falls to one side, Silas climbing over top of him and trying to take a bite.

Laura screams Travis's name even as she throws herself at Silas, trying to wrench him off. While not strong enough to completely pull her brother off, her intervention prevents Silas from taking a chunk out of Travis.

Travis, for his part, tries to wrestle the beast off of him, both squirming away from his weight as well as the sound of his snapping jaws.

Eventually he manages to work himself free, turning over on to his back, which blazes with agony. He tries to point his gun at Silas, tries to get off a shot, but the werewolf smacks the weapon from him.

Laura, still wrapped around Silas, tugs hard, trying to use all of her weight to make him topple backwards, but she doesn't have much of an effect.

As such, Silas is pretty much wearing her as a backpack as he continues to try and get Travis, swiping out at him again and again.

Travis scooches backwards in the dirt, leaves slipping under his heels. He can't quite get the leverage to rise up and pull away to a safe distance, not with the way Silas is looming over him.

Seeming to recognize that desperate measures are in order, Laura does exactly what Travis told her not to do.

She does something crazy.

Laura puts her hands over Silas's face and, with as much force as possible, sinks her middle fingers into his eyes.

Now Silas does rear back, releasing a high pitched, pained screech at her actions. Her actions that, apparently, clue him into the danger she truly is.

Laura pushed.

Silas responds.

His claws now go to his back where she is, they dig deep into her and she screams, releasing her hold on him. The moment she does, she falls to the ground and he turns, attacking her with unparalleled ruthlessness.

It's as if now, truly seeing her as opposed to simply shunning her, he has a lot of aggression to release. True, he doesn't bite - seeming to somehow sense how the clear water in her veins would hurt him - but that makes him no less ferocious.

Laura's rolled over and open to a full frontal attack, which Silas seems to relish. She does her best to block with her hands, her arms, her legs - but they offer little protection.

Silas is tearing away at her - clothing, skin, and blood flying as Travis finally gets to his feet and roars, "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

He spots Laura's shotgun to one side and quickly grabs it. Without any compunction, without a single pause, he presses the barrel of the gun directly against the back of Silas's skull.

He pulls the trigger.

While the shotgun doesn't have silver bullets, it still packs a hell of a punch, especially at such close range. Silas can't help but react to the full hit, the spread managing to at least pierce his head, albeit not destroy it outright.

Releasing a whining wail of pain, Silas clutches at his damaged head and finally releases Laura, running off into the forest to no doubt and try to recover.

Laura, however, looks far from that ability.

Blood is pouring out of her, her body ravaged. What skin is visible is deathly pale and she coughs, blood staining her teeth, dribbling out of her mouth as she wheezes in pain.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no..." Travis crouches over her, shaking hands reaching out as if to touch her, but afraid to, afraid of making it worse and she chokes out, "'S...kay...guh-ge-get...buh-bone..."

"No."Travis says firmly, a thought coming to him. His clinical, official police officer mode kicking in as he assess her injuries and comes to the conclusion he can pick her up.

He does so as gently as he possibly can, although she still cries out, the pain tremendous. He shushes her, apologizing and telling her he knows it hurts, but he has to do this - he has to.

Laura tries to shake her head, but can't seem to manage the movement even as she once more pleads, "Too...lah-late, g-get...buh-!"

"No." Travis fiercely cuts off her attempts to speak as he cradles her close to his chest, his heart, "We're getting you to the lake."

"Wuh-won't wo-ork..." Laura manages, but Travis is already moving, even as she squeaks, "Bu...your... family..."

The last comes out small, a miniscule breath - almost as if it's the last thing she'll ever-!

NO.

He's carrying her and moving as swiftly as he can in the direction of the lake.

It's too far! It's too far! I won't make it! One half of Travis's mind wails in shrill horror, while the other half insists: You have to! You have to! You have to!

He wishes he was three decades younger, he wishes he was more fit, he wishes - more than anything - that this wasn't happening. But his wishes are meaningless, so he simply focuses on moving forward, moving fast, on: keep going, keep going, keep going!

The bones and Eliza and Silas are the furthest things from his mind.

All there is, is Laura. All that matters is saving her. And before he knows it, he's at the lake's edge. He does his level best calmly and carefully lower her into the water.

He carries her out far.

Freezing cold water encases his feet, his legs, his waist - he walks out - the lake bottom sucking at his shoes, the slick surface making it difficult for him to charge forward.

But he does.

Trails of coppery crimson begin to stream and swirl behind them as her blood meets the water. They're lost in a cloud of it once he's chest-deep and can go no further.

Travis lowers her into the drink and watches as the water completely engulfs her. She's floating, but only just - her blue eyes glassy and staring out at nothing.

She hasn't spoken in awhile. Her pale pink mouth just slightly agape. He can't tell if she's even breathing - he's not hearing anything, feeling anything. She's not warm - she's cold. But he's cold too.

Travis moves her about in the waters, a slow circular motion, like a macabre dance. He can't tell if scales have formed under her clothes. He removes them clinically, eyes glossy with tears as he sniffles, as he bares her to the waters.

It's easier to see the deep wounds now - the bone deep gashes, bloodless now. Jagged rips and tears in her porcelain flesh. Unhealed.

"C'mon, Laura... c'mon, sweetheart..." He croons, running his fingers through her soaking wet hair, "Come on...come back to me..."

Laura doesn't respond.

"Please..." His deep voice quivers, breaks, "Laura, please...I can't get you back just to lose you again...I can't."

He presses her lips to her forehead, "I love you, Laura...please come back to me...just one more time. Please. Come back."

Travis waits for an answer.

He'll wait his whole life if he has to.

[alargehunkofdebris]

My Horrifically Indulgent Good Omens 2 Angstageddon Playlist

If you’re anything like me, you’re going through the bizarre Twilight Zone of realizing that all those songs you indulgently listened to with a grain of salt can canonically apply to these two dimwits now. And if you’re anything like me, you drove to work in sleep-deprived hysterics as you listened to these absolutely angst-sodden songs that completely, undeniably, without a doubt, legally apply. Nothing is too much, all fair game, no question, no remorse, no napkin. It’s Angstageddon, babes, and the only reason “Angel With A Shotgun” isn’t here is because it’s too happy and optimistic.

Anyway, my musical taste is mediocre and pop-happy and goes from my current playlists all the way back to my grade 10 Ipod music near the end. Have my ever-growing catalogue of soppy songs for this bastard of a show, most curated pre-Season 2 as an “Angsty Fanfiction Playlist” but can now be promoted to “Entirely Canon-Compliant Playlist”. There’s no Queen just because it’s a given. Here’s the link to the Youtube playlist -- sorry it’s not Spotify. https://youtu.be/pvfzcGbOzqg

“Mr. Blue” – Catherine Feeny  (Yes, I originally heard this at the end of Bojack. Such a lovely, gut-wretching song. Could be from both POVs kinda, but I always imagined it from A’s POV)

“Only The Lonely Survive” – Mariana’s Trench (Be prepared for a lot of Mariana’s Trench – I’m Canadian)

“Dearly Departed” – Mariana’s Trench (Lord. This song. Mariana’s Trench notoriously incorporates elements/lines from previous albums/songs, and this is no exception. A gutwrencher)

“Masterpiece Theatre III” – Mariana’s Trench (their first “showstopper finale” I believe).

“Astoria” – Mariana’s Trench (There’s references to Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet in “when starcrossed lovers take their lives”, very them. Them as in Shakespeare, not…not the line, at least not the latter half.)

“End of an Era” – Mariana’s Trench (Again, references to Shakespeare. I would highly recommend Mariana’s Trench in general, but with a special place in my heart for the huge showstoppers they always end on, which often incorporate lines of the previous songs in album/past albums, and ALSO use Leitmotifs from PREVIOUS finale songs. They’re great.)

“Killing Kind” – Mariana’s Trench (the most recent album’s showstopping finale. The darkest one. Very credit-scene-GO2-Final-15-core, all misery, very angsty emoish, skip if you’re not into that vibe)

“From Eden” – Hozier (Yeah, yeah, duh. Let’s just assume all Hozier songs, but just in case by some miracle you’ve not heard any Hozier in relation to GO, I’ll add more)

“Take me to Church” – Hozier

“Like Real People Do” – Hozier (Ahaha, a soft and sweet song that absolutely does not fit…yet. But it will.)

“Lost” – Dermont Kennedy (A later-on remorse song for Az. Significant Lyrics: “When everything was broken/The devil hit his second stride/But you remember what I told you/Someday, I'll need your spine to hide behind” “Are we destined to burn or will we last the night?/I will hold you 'til I hold you right.”)

“Glory” – Dermont Kennedy (Can’t quite land on what perspective this is sung from, but I almost see it as a song from C’s perspective to A, with the asides referencing “She” referencing God. The complex relationship he has with her, and A, and everything.)

“King” – Lauren Aquilina (Idk why, but I just see it as a comfort song. You can take or leave, it’s just here from before GO2 as a comfort song for Crowley, who in my mind was suffering due to some overwhelmingly heartbreaking event that left him rock bottom on his own for some extended period, but of course that’d never happen canonically, pfft. Just a fanfiction song, nothing more).

“Hits Different” – Taylor Swift (Yep, she’s defo got a place on this list. She’s got SO many applicable songs, but I’ll just put a blanket order on her music and give you a few. This is currently a fav of mine and the first song I heard post-watch, and thus the one I had my big “Everything Applies Now Legally” epiphany during my listen. A poppier, slightly happier vibe that we desperately need at this point.)

“Samson” -- Regina Spektor (Jesus. I’ll likely make a video about it when I have the time.)

“Heart’s On Fire” – Passenger (A sweet song that will tear your goshdarn heart out. There’s hope in this song. “I don’t know where and I don’t know when/But I know we’ll be lovers again.”)

“Mess Is Mine” – Vance Joy (Again, hope. A forgiveness song.)

“Something In The Orange” – Zach Bryan (A bit countryish, so dif kinda vibe, but still love it. Very angst, sitting with a glass of whiskey kinda song.)

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark” – Death Cab For Cutie (Yeah, a no brainer, doi. Also I’m p sure this was on one of the Prime playlists.)

“Scared” – Tragically Hip (Ok this is very much not lyrically sound in terms of them, but it’s one of my fav Hip songs and the vibes are sweet.)  

“All These Things That I’ve Done” – The Killers (Okay this is just me being goofy now, I’m going through my teenage Ipod music. Why not. Let’s end on an upbeatish note! Let’s all raise a glass to this song whose lyrics I’d write on my calculator lid in grade 10 math.)

“Long Road To Ruin” – Foo Fighters (Okay ONE more song from my old Ipod.)

[pyrettawychwiggin]

The Iron Angel: The Tale of Maria Røntgen (A Fallout 3 Fanfiction) - Coming Soon!

(The following post is a handful of writing process notes for this project; depending on how the writing goes, some of these details may change going forward to better suit the story I'm telling.)

I've been re-playing Fallout 3 recently - amidst all the Fallout fever since the series came out; and one thing I love doing when playing story-driven games, is imagining a more fleshed-out story for my character based off of what happens throughout my playthrough.

So naturally, that's what I've been up to - and it is hitting me so much harder than I was expecting.

I've cried.

Like, actual tears.

I'm out here hurting my own feelings, and it gives me LIFE.

So, I figure maybe it's time to start sharing it.

I will likely have the first chapter be more of a series of flashes throughout her childhood leading up to the events the beginning of the game, so obviously, SPOILER ALERT.

Before I start posting full chapters, here's some info if you're curious as to what to expect from this fanficton.

About the Main Character

• The main character of this fanfiction is named Maria "The Lone Wanderer" Rőntgen.

• She has pasty, white skin, and a flat nose with deep blue eyes and jet black hair that she typically prefers to keep cut short.

• She's on the shorter side, standing at about 5'5". She's little stocky, and also quite soft with very little muscle, seeing as throughout her life in Vault 101, she's not been particularly active.

• I will likely be doing up some digital art of her in the near future.

• Much like her father, James, she relies greatly on her intelligence, charm and perception to get by, but she is a pretty great shot with rifles and shotguns seeing as how she learned fairly early how to shoot.

About the Story

Below, I will be discussing some more in-depth things, such as what character(s) she may be romantically involved with.

If you'd rather read the story and be surprised rather than knowing this ahead of time, I would advise skipping this blurb and waiting until the story starts getting posted. It's your call!

• This story does have a fair amount of a focus on romance, but keep in mind that not every chapter will focus on this. Some chapters really are just about Maria's personal journey throughout the storyline.

• While this fanfiction has a couple will-they-won't-they storylines, and various minor love interests, the main love interest for this story is Charon (trust me, I was just as surprised as you are at this - but you'll see how things get there throughout the story - this wasn't how I thought things were going to go when I first started playing).

• However, you may still see some moments involving Gob, Nova, Butch, Fawkes, Vance, Holly, etc.

• This fanfiction will have some 18+ scenes - however, these will only be viewable by my supporters on Ko-Fi & Patreon. This will ONLY apply to 18+ content, however; general romance will just be part of the base story.

• There is one point where the story comes to a head and may deviate into two branches; I could have decided to simply choose one, but I'm considering writing both of them.

To put it very simply - a very important character actually wound up dying unexpectedly in my playthrough, and for the sake of sticking to the events of my actual playthrough, I wrote the rest of the original storyline with the assumption that they truly died in that moment.

However, I'm considering, for the sake of my bleeding heart, to write another, you could say, alternative routing where this is not the case. You, the reader, could be free to decide which version you think is best.

Or maybe I'll just write whatever the hell I want; who the hell knows?

That's about it for now, folks - keep an eye out for more - I will be posting the chapters here, as well as on my Wattpad/Fanfiction accounts, but any behind-the-scenes, and writer's notes such as this one, will be posted here on my Tumblr, as well as on PSH's Ko-Fi/Patreon pages. Check out the links below if you're interested in any of that.

Thanks for tuning in, m'strudes! See you next time!

~ Pyretta Wychwiggin

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『summer heat』

jtk x f!reader

i'm sorry this took so long, i've been a bit of a wreck lmao. hope this is good enough for y’all. 

THIS PIECE IS 18+ MINORS DNI

» requested

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (once again, a given with me but wrap it up folks), and mention of the double standard of men being shirtless and women not being able to - FREE THE NIPPLE - anyways.

☼

Nashville humidity was an absolute killer. Luckily, your absolute angel of a best friend, Jake, insisted you attend a beach trip with his band. You had been apprehensive at first, of course, if only for looks. Who wants to intrude on a well-deserved vacation after a particularly grueling tour? Certainly not you - even if you really wanted to go.

However, he assured you that Kenzi and Hannah would be there as well, and you wouldn’t be intruding. He claimed you were ���practically family”. For an unidentifiable reason, that struck a sore chord with you. But you brushed it off for Jake’s sake, and finally “conceded” to his demands.

“How many Fleetwood Mac shirts do you have, exactly?” Jake was laying horizontally at the end of your bed, his head resting on his hand.

“Not enough - and don’t say it like it’s a problem, Stevie is an absolute gem!” He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face as you dramatically threw your hands on your hips.

The drive there wasn’t entirely awful. Two separate vehicles was absolutely the better choice for your sanity, though. You’d manage to lose shotgun to Josh, who insisted on talking your ear off about some indie film he’d recently become obsessed with.

“What’s your favorite movie, Penny?”

“Don’t ask that question and use that nickname in the same sentence, you’ll sound stupid,” you told him jokingly. Josh often made fun of your - only slight - obsession with Almost Famous. After the guys had seen your numerous posters and decor inspired by the movie, they’d nicknamed you “Penny”.

On day three of your vacation, you’d awoken early to the stream of sunlight and the soft sound of waves hitting the shore. Downstairs, you found Jake, alone, strumming his acoustic on the couch.

“I think it’s pretty pretentious that you bring your guitar on vacation, Jacob,” you told him, sitting beside him on the couch, legs crossed.

“Well, Penny, you never know when inspiration will strike you.”

Deadpanning, you said, “I’m gonna strike you if you don’t take me to the beach.”

“You can’t wait until the group gets back?”

“Jake, they went hiking, it could be hours.” Leave it to Josh to find a hiking trail no matter where he went.

Rolling his eyes and letting out a playfully exasperated breath, he agreed and told you to hurry and put your swimsuit on before he left you. You knew he wouldn’t, though, he loved you. You were his best friend. Ouch, another sore chord.

He waited for you on the back porch, the beach house the guys had rented had a private beach only accessible to you guys. At the sound of your footsteps, he turned, his expression changing ever so slightly to one of surprise.

“What is that?”

“Look, Jacob, I know you don’t have a ton of experience with women but I do expect you know what a bikini looks like.”

Granted, was it a bit revealing? Perhaps, but you were a grown woman, for God’s sake. Regardless, you walked down the short pathway to the beach, occasionally bumping into each other on purpose. You laid your towel out on the sand, wordlessly handing him the sunscreen so he could apply it to your back.

His hands were cold and you shivered against his touch. You heard him attempting to stifle his laughter and elbowed him in the ribs. When he finished, you moved to give him the same treatment. Jake’s back was smooth and his skin was so warm, despite having only been in the sun for a few minutes.

After a second, he turned his head slightly to say, “Well, at least you don’t really have to worry about tan lines, I guess.”

“I could worry less if I didn’t have a top on at all.” It didn’t really have any double meaning behind it, just a true statement. “I mean, it’s not really fair, is it? Guys can take their shirt off, well, anywhere, really. But the second a woman does it, it’s a ‘problem’ and she needs to ‘cover up’. Such a fucking double standard, it’s not my fault I have more fat and tissue there than you do.”

“Penny, there’s no one else here. If you wanna take it off, I won’t judge you. It’s the human body, it’s natural and nothing to be ashamed of.”

You let his words ruminate for a minute, searching his face to ensure he was truly okay with it. Once you found no ounce of hesitation surrounding him, you reached behind you to untie your top, slipping it over your head.

His breath hitched for a second, and he eyed you carefully to make sure you didn’t hear it. When you laid back on your towel, drenched in sunlight appearing to him as an ethereal goddess, he knew you didn’t. The sunglasses you wore were big and orange, a genuine gift from Danny for your birthday.

You looked straight out of a 70s movie, one Josh would probably talk about for weeks. One Jake could watch for the rest of his life and never get tired of.

“Get in the water with me, Jakey,” you begged. He stood with a groan and raced you into the ocean. You let out a betrayed gasp when he splashed you, and began a battle of water. Running away from his torment, he chased you until he finally grabbed your shoulders, turning you pulling you into his chest. He wrestled with you for a second before dunking you into the cold water.

“I could kill you for that, Kiszka.”

With his signature smirk, his eyes boring into yours, he asserted, “I’d love to see you try.”

You threw yourself onto Jake, catching him by surprise and causing him to lose his footing, and took him under with you. When the two of you came up, it was all smiles and boisterous laughter until you both realized you were still pressed into his chest.

His smile died down and you couldn never miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips.

“Jakey?”

“Mhm?”

“Kiss me.”

It felt as if a wire had snapped within the two of you, all the years of tension building up to this very moment. His lips felt like they were branded into yours, and you didn’t mind. You never wanted to lose this feeling. Jake’s hands gripped onto your thighs and you took his hint and jumped. For a moment, you worried about falling, but his hold never faltered as he walked the two of you back to the house.

He laid you down gently on his bed, and, while you wanted him to absolutely take you, the look in his eyes told you he would always be gentle. It was you, after all. You realized, after a second of paused movements, that he’s taking it all in. The way your hair splays around you, how your legs curl up so that your feet dig into the soft comforter, and especially the deep breaths you take that make you look absolutely fucked out already.

Jake lowered himself gently on top of you, but you surely wouldn’t have minded feeling his entire body weight on top of you, at this point. His lips met yours, almost timidly, but you soon concluded he was attempting to control himself. You let him, seeing as how you’re already crossing a plethora of formerly-thought boundaries.

One of his hands reached up to cup your bare breast and you gasped at the contact. He pulled away to make sure you were okay, but upon seeing your eyes closed and mouth open at the sensation, he lowered himself to wrap his lips around your nipple. After giving what he determined to be enough attention to both, he began trailing his lips down your stomach. When he nipped just above your belly button, you scolded him.

“Hey! No marks.”

“Oops.”

He wasn’t sorry, and he wouldn’t pretend to be, either. You couldn’t even say you were that mad. If it wasn’t for the fact that the guys would never let you live it down, you would let him mark you entirely.

Wrapping his fingers around the waistband of your bottoms, he looked up to you for confirmation. You let out a quiet ‘please’ and then they were gone. The way he kept eye contact with you as his tongue delved into your cunt was absolutely sinful. Jake alternated between licking and sucking at your clit seemingly randomly, but it was so strategic. When he stopped you thought you were going to cry.

“Want you to sit on my face, pretty girl.”

He moved you to take your place on the bed, beckoning you onto him. Like any other girl, you didn’t intend on fully taking a seat, however his arms wrapped around your thighs, and you had no other option. Within seconds, you could barely hold yourself up, as if your entire torso was made of jelly. Steadying yourself, you planted your hands on his stomach, and it brought you closer to the edge to feel how his muscles twitched below your touch. Soon you were cumming on his face, and you worried about your grip potentially bruising his abdomen. You fell to his side, his hips beside your face.

Jake’s eyes were beautiful, you had always thought so. Seeing them in this new light, blown out by lust and admiration only brought out that beauty more. Quickly, he roughly planted his lips back on yours, as if they were meant to be there, and, gripping your hips as you had his, brought you back to the center of the bed. He didn’t even bother flipping you around, leaving it so that your head was at the bottom of the mattress.

Turning around for a split second, he grabbed a pillow and maneuvered it underneath your hips.

“Heard that this makes it feel better,” he explained.

In a minute, his swim trunks were on the ground and he was once again searching for that acknowledgement that it was okay to move forward. Once he had it, he was sheathed inside you and you both let out the same low moan.

“You okay?” His hand gently caressed your jaw.

Nodding, you told him breathily, “I’m great, please move, Jakey.”

“God, I love it when you call me that.”

He built his pace up, starting slowly to ensure that you were comfortable. When you moaned, he knew you were wordlessly telling him to go faster. It felt like you were gonna pass out - in a good way, of course - as he thrusted heartily into you, gripping your hips with an unexpected force, and left nearly bruising kisses to your neck.

The sensations were so overwhelming, and you quickly felt your peak approaching once again. It didn’t help hearing those grunts escaping Jake, you’d heard them when he was playing. Within this - much different - context, you thought you’d never been able to hear them again without wanting him to ruin you.

“Cum for me, baby.” That did it. You let out a drawn out moan as you came, and soon he was doing the same.

For a minute, you laid there attempting - but not wanting - to come down from the euphoric pleasure. You felt his hand on your jaw once more, caressing the soft skin of your face. His thumb ran over your swollen lips and you turned to smile at him.

“You know I’ve always kinda been in love with you, right?”

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve always kinda been in love with you too.”

The front door was shut loudly and you heard two boisterous voices. They quieted down for a second before you heard Josh.

“Who the hell tracked all this sand in the house?!”

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417 @brokenbellz @gretavanfleas @pyrojoshy @greta-van-chaos @xserenax-13 @hayley1623 @kdarling1 @autumns30 @keighoe @chalametpwk @sammysvanfeet @shawnsthighs @gretavanbitches @sammiejane22 

jakey: @loofypoofy 

[mothcpu]

Do you think the other machines use the terminals? It's mentioned that they play "Take care" to lure them into a symbiotic relationship, but what would other machines use the terminals for?

Greater and Supreme machines totally, maybe the Streetcleaners, probably not the Drones. I like to think Swordsmachine (RIP) bought its shotgun from a terminal at some point, and V2 (also RIP, poor guy) its arsenal from both fights.

SM and V2 both salvaged for body parts, and V1 only steals from V2, meaning the terminals are still only human-oriented after however many hundreds of years (no machine parts), but I'd also assume the terminals have more generic repair-type items, such as bolting/welding tools, which would aid them in self-modification and repair. Streetcleaners could potentially be able to refuel there too (like, actual flamethrower fuel, not blood) if they were able to pay

under the cut: in-game canon vs game mechanics and theorizing if the terminal/machine relationship might be mutual

the terminals are interesting. to me they ride the line between point 1. "standard video game mechanic" and point 2. "in-canon thing". they have an in-universe function (or were intended to, according to P-1) namely transport of supplies for human-led hell expeditions and a database of information (likely from said expeditions).

there are outliers from point 2 information-wise: entries like V2's second entry, Gabe/angels, MP/FP, have info from post-humanity-extinction Hell. which is funky from a canon standpoint (who would be writing these entries?), but point 1 applies perfectly fine. same with "why are the terminals so tactically placed before boss arenas" lol

anyway what ALSO exists in both the realm of 1 and 2 and points(P), the ingame currency. yeah yes you need to pay for guns its how video games work. you get it. point 1 covered. point 2 is interesting, the symbiotic relationship between terminal and machine feels mutual, (it lures, it actively wants interaction, so it must theoretically get something in return), so what does it benefit from points in a canon sense?

I'm assuming some things will be explained in the P-2 terminal (P-1 terminal: "For further information, see TERMINAL DATA 02: [LINK REMOVED]") buuut one theory I have is that P is a sort of reward system for more advanced machines, like a mechanical equivalent of dopamine, with rewards based on their programmed purposes, ex: V1 gets points for efficiency, which covers time, style, and kills.

the terminal also wanting a taste of that would be a given, since it can't move around, knock on wood (joke, but a Nosk-esque (mimic) terminal fight would be terrifying and also very cool).

or an alternate theory for why it would need it: P is fuel, and the cost is just the amount of fuel it would take to transfer the item to the current location

third theory, to quote hakita:

anyway, those are my two cents. this game makes me a little insane, thanks for the opportunity to talk about it lol also, entirely off topic, but why did I not know Minos was the previous Judge of Hell, learned that while I was looking over info for this post.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shotgun Wedding

MASTERLIST

Angel Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: angsty angst, language, s3 spoilers, (gif not mine!)

Marisol Reyes’s diamond sparkled underneath the grim lighting of the Mayans clubhouse. The diamond she always imagined resting on her ring finger. Y/N stared blankly at the beaming woman glued next to Angel. Y/N tried her damndest to conceal her heartache keeping a calm demeanor. As if cemented in the very place she stood, Y/N didn’t dare move a muscle at the abrupt announcement. 

Her ears rung horrendously blocking out the unwelcomed laughter and cheers. Her blood simmered rising in temperature every passing second, but Y/N swore her heart stopped beating the moment Angel wouldn’t…couldn’t look at her. Tranq’s eyes searched the room finding Y/N all too easily, a familiar sadness rested behind her eyes showcasing her inner misery.

Nails’s smile continued to irk Y/N as her fingers wrapped around an empty beer glass.

Angel’s voice boomed through the room next; “That ain’t it..we’re havin a baby!”

Hoots and hollers broke out across the room celebrating the surprising news.

Y/N froze too stunned to glance up from the wood counter she was currently staring holes in. Ezekiel’s eyes followed suit; pity filled and genuine disbelief. Didn’t seem like big bro told him either. Suddenly glass shattered forcing Y/N’s gaze downwards, blood danced down her palm moving delicately towards her wrist. Two shards embedded deeply into her hand as her eyes bulged at the growing mess.

Tranq moved quick grabbing a towel. He hesitated sizing up the shards and their removal. His lips moved but Y/N didn’t hear a thing. A minor pinch resonated from her palm glancing down at the removed bloodstained pieces. Angel chanced a glimpse towards Y/N knowing the damage had been long done.

“Y/N?”  

She merely nodded applying more pressure to the cut.

Her voice dead-panned void of any emotion; “Shit, I spaced. Sorry bout the glass.”

His brow scrunched upwards at the overtly monotonous tone. Meanwhile, Y/N busied herself wiping up the crimson liquid. Not more than five seconds later her back was to him as she rushed to the back room. Tranq tailed her closing the door behind him. Her chest heaved unable to catch her breath as she paced in circles.

“Say somethin, anything…”

Y/N stopped, her eyes pierced his gentle ones; “Did you know?”

Without hesitation, Tranq answered; “No idea.”

He sounded just as hurt as she did causing concern to spread throughout her shivering frame; “I thought you and Nails were—”

“Me too. Guess not.”

Unshed tears begged for release but Y/N fought harder. Her voice sounded broken, laced in pain; “I hate him.”

Tranq rubbed her shoulder soothingly; “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Her shoulders deflated; “It’s not your fault. It’s fucking mine for giving him another god damn chance.”

“Stop. They made their choice. Does it fucking suck? Hell yeah, but it’s outta our hands for good. Don’t let that shit spread.”

“Your optimism is annoying as hell.”

His hand grazed over her chin keeping her attention; ““He doesn’t deserve you; he never fucking did.”

“And she’s a total bitch for blowing you off and running back to him the second he turns her damn direction.”

“I don’t want to hurt like this anymore, T. Angel will never choose me and that’s a hard pill to swallow. But seriously? Seriously? He fucking parades her around, proposes to her, and then knocks her up?! What fresh hell did I walk into tonight?”

“You and me both.”

Her fingers carefully grazed along the liquor bottles aligning the farthest wall; “I think I’m going to miss you the most.”

Confusion clouded his thoughts; “You—you’re leaving?”

“I have to. I can’t just stay here and watch him play house. Angel’s left me no other choice.”

Tranq closed the gap between them bringing her into his chest. Her arms wrapped around him trying to memorize every possible detail.

“I still have a phone, ya know. I’ll keep you in the loop, promise.”

“You are worth finding. Worth knowing. And undoubtedly worth loving. Don’t let him take that away.”

“You, my friend, have a way with words. This isn’t goodbye.”

“Just a see you later?”

The hallway light shone brightly as the door swung ajar. Picking up one foot in front of the other, Y/N stride didn’t falter instead focusing her energy straight ahead on the exit until an unwelcoming voice echoed out for her.

“Y/N, wait up!”

She began a light jog attempting to make a clean getaway. Heavy footsteps clogged about alerting her of another presence. Y/N fumbled for her keys but not before Angel Reyes caught up.

“There’s nothing left to say, Reyes. Your announcement made that crystal clear. Now go the fuck away.”

“At least gimme a minute to explain.”

“Explain what? How you told me you loved me TWO DAYS AGO and then proceeded to propose to your fuck buddy? Oh, congrats on the baby by the way. I hope you both burn in hell.”

Angel held her arm keeping her in place; Y/N fought against his grasp; “You’re a selfish, irredeemable shell of a bastard.”

“I know.”

“I love you, all of you so damn much. But I’m sick and tired of the bullshit. You’ve obviously made your decision, Gel. I gotta get out of here for a while.”

Guilt ran down his spine seeping into his stiff bones. Angel opened his mouth but no words followed. Not once in the last twelve hours had he stopped running at full speed. Now with the dust finally settling, Angel’s actions finally caught up with him.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

Her jaw nearly hit the ground at the audacity of this asshole; “I bet your fiancé is looking for you. Should probably head back.”

The words held a finality Angel wasn’t sure he was ready to embrace. His mind screamed at him to be honest, to tell Y/N she was the reason he got outta bed every day. But then Nails told him she was pregnant and the rest of the world became a blur. Angel never actually expected to lose Y/N. Now his reality had shifted, altered on its very axis and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. The car door creaked open and shut in record time. Blurred headlights were all that remained as the distance grew further and further between them. Crickets chirped far too loudly as the silence set in. It was time for Angel to let Y/N go even if his heart resisted.

 ~~~~~~~

Tags:  @twistnet  @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu  @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @lady-pswrld  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @angelreyesgirl89 @cocotheclown @trulysuccubus @janeexo​ @soaronmywings  @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @hermankopusortizorsumshite​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @noz4a2​ @blowmymbackout​ @leathercladmenfics​  @-im-fantastic-​   @bellisperennis0​  @mrsmarvelous1995​ @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @cassandras-nest​ @drabbles-mc​   @est1887​  

[onlyfortheplot]

XOXO Cupid

➳ PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE

➳ Pairing: Koushi Sugawara x Fem!Reader ft. Aoi L/N

➳ Synopsis:

“Pardon?“ he looked at you oddly, his grin seemed forced, “Do I know you?“

“Hell yeah you know me!“ you glared at him, ignoring the stern stares of those around you, “You spiked a volleyball at my face, the first time I entered that gym?“

“You?“ Suga’s eyes grew wide.

“Me!“ 

“I’m sorry?” He didn’t seem really sorry, not as a small grin crept on his lips.

“Are you sorry you didn’t get a direct hit?“ you held your hips, pouting your lips, much to your daughter’s embarrassment

.➳ Warning: Slight language!! Mentions of divorce!!

➳ Word Count: 1.5K

➳ A/N:

OMG! THIS STARTED OUT AS A DAICHI FIC?? HOW??? I AM CONFUSION???? THIS IS ALSO PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE!! @lizbotw I hope it turned out okay??? Anyway I hope you guys enjoy!!!! <3

“But, Ma!”

You let out a frustrated sigh,at your adamant daughter, who clung insistently on your leg. You shook your feeling, as you slowly lost feeling.

“Aoi, you’re going and that’s it.” you firmly said. 

Your daughter shook her hair, hair coming loose from her pigtails. You scowled as you brushed the hair back into the ponytail.

“Aoi L/N, you are making a scene.” you hissed, although many of the pitying looks from nearby parents showed that they didn’t mind. You averted your eyes from the looks, too embarrassed to say anything to them. You grasped her hand, wrenching it off your pants.

“Ma! I don’t wanna go. Uncle Noya said—”

“If I hear one more word about your uncle, you’ll find yourself without one,” you threatened as Aoi pouted. 

You sighed, looking up at the sky. This was much more of a burden than actually applying for her school. You knew—understood the nervous jitters that could come with the first days of school, but this—this was too much. You watched, almost giving into your daughter’s wishes, at her teary eyes. Her desperate hands clung to your pants, pulling almost too much on the fabric. She looked at you with such an anguished look you had to think back if you had ever mentioned anything scary about first grade. 

“Ma! I don’t wanna go to school,” she burrowed her face into your waist, her nose poking your hip, “Please, I’ll go tomorrow!”

“No” you grabbed her hand, pulling her in front of you, “I’ll walk with you into class.”

She whined, earning her odd and annoyed looks from both students and parents that were suffering their own crisis. You gave them apologetic looks, mouthing a small sorry. You couldn’t help that your daughter was scared. It was a new school, not to mention a new city in general. You had only moved back to Miyagi, from Tokyo, a few weeks ago. Not that that was the original plan. The plan was to initially move, three months prior to the starting of Aoi’s school. But the messy divorce, and the fight for custody was harsh on you. It wasn’t Aoi’s fault. It wasn’t her fault her father was almost non-existent. If anything it was your fault for marrying a douche bag.

It was a shotgun marriage,you liked to remind yourself. As if it was much better, if anything you felt that that made it worse. You itched your head as you walked down the packed hallway, peering at the classrooms. 

“Ma, what class was I in again?” you looked down at her.

“Class 1-A?” you thought, “No—let me check.” You muttered to yourself as you held Aoi with one hand, the other burrowing through your purse. You cursed, softly, as you pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. You scanned through it quickly, as you dodged incoming parents and running students.

“I was right, Class 1-A.” you told Aoi, who shook her head, looking for the sign. 1-A. 1-A. 1-A. 1—

“Shoot,” you swore, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something explicit. The paper fluttered down, escaping your grasp. You looked up, at the slightly taller male. He ran a hand through his silver hair, chuckling awkwardly as he looked at you. You peered your eyes, eyeing the small mole near his eye. He looked so familiar.

“Ma’am?” he asked, his voice soft and cautious. The voice of a teacher. You blushed slightly as you bent down to pick the paper that had fallen. 

“Sorry, I-uh- sorry?” 

“Ma!” you looked down at your daughter, who clenched her pig tails in front of her face, “Stop embarrassing me!”

Your blush grew at that. You opened your mouth to retort, but stopped at his small smirk.

“This is your daughter?” he asked, bending down to Aoi, patting her head, “Hi, there.”

“Hi-i.” she mumbled, you rolled your eyes, at her act. You knew your daughter. You gave birth to her. And you lived with her. She was not the shy one. Aoi, much to her fathers dismay, was much like you. Very outspoken about her feelings and blunt about her thoughts—to the point many found her a tiny bit insulting.

“Come on, Aoi,” you sighed, as you bent down with the man, “You know how to do this.”

She gave you a small glare, waving you over. You sighed again,as you moved closer for her.

“Mommy,” she whispered—or what she considered whispering. You were 100% sure anyone around her could hear, “Mommy, you can’t do that.”

You gave her a confused look, as she rolled her eyes, pulling you closer.

“Mommy, you have to be nice to him,” she hissed into your ear, “or else you can’t be married.”

You choked on nothing as you gave her an outraged look. Marriage? When had she ever talked to her—

Oh. You looked at the mischievous look in her eyes. A spark you had seen a lot in Yuu—or as your daughter liked to call him, Uncle Noya. You swore. Of course, he would teach her that. Just wait until he comes back, you thought, I’ll show him what a real spike is.

“Aoi L/N, I swear upon the gods that are listening to this conversation,I—”

You stopped at the somewhat loud laugh that interrupted your words and thought. It was a nice laugh, you supposed as you looked at his smiling face, his mole almost stretched as his eyes crinkled.

“You have an amazing daughter, or should I say Cupid?” he teased, making you blush. God, you had blushed a lot. 

“She’s like that, sorry.” you apologized sheepishly, giving your daughter a stern glare.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, she reminds me of a friend from high school.” He gave a smile, as he looked back at those memories.

“Ah,” you nodded your head, as you patted Aoi’s head, “she get’s it from her uncle, I hope she won’t be a bother.”

He smiled again, ruffling Aoi’s head before he stood up.

“Children are never a bother,“ he said, “May I ask what class she’s in?“

“Ah, she’s in Class —“

“I can tell him myself!“ she huffed, crossing her arms, “I’m in Class 1-A!“

“That’s my class!“ he grinned, pointing to himself.

“Really, what a coincidence!“ 

“Your name’s Aoi right?“ he looked over at you, before looking at your five-year-old, “My names Sugawara Koushi, but you can all me Suga Senpai!“

Sugawara Koushi.

“Suga Senpai,“ she squeaked, looking up at him with glimmering eyes, “I like that.“

Sugawara Koushi.

“You do?“ he winked at her, “That’s great!“

“Sugawara Koushi! Ah—“ you said, loudly, pointing at him, “Karasonou’s setter. You were teammates with Nishinoya. Nishinoya Yuu? He talks about you all the time. So that’s why you—“

“Pardon?“ he looked at you oddly, his grin seemed forced, “Do I know you?“

“Hell yeah you know me!“ you glared at him, ignoring the stern stares of those around you, “You spiked a volleyball at my face, the first time I entered that gym?“

“You?“ Suga’s eyes grew wide.

“Me!“ 

“I’m sorry?” He didn’t seem really sorry, not as a small grin crept on his lips.

“Are you sorry you didn’t get a direct hit?“ you held your hips, pouting your lips, much to your daughter’s embarrassment.

“I’m sorry that you got hit.“ he tried to sound sincere, but the light in his eyes gave it away.

You stood there, quiet as your daughter watched the interaction, a blush blooming on her own cheeks.

“Fine. I’m not completely sorry.“ he chuckled, he glanced at this watch then too you.

“Class is starting soon,“ he trailed off, at your amused look, “No! Really, I swear I’m not trying to leave. Look!“ He shoved his wrist in your face. 

You giggled, softly pushing it away.

“Well,Senpai, I can’t keep you can I.“ you ruffled Aoi’s hair one more time, “Make sure you don’t be a bother to Suga Senpai, okay?“

“Ma! I regret saying that.“ she looked disgusted, as she winced away from your touch, “Don’t be nice to Suga Senpai, I don’t want you to marry.“

“I —“

“Really, Aoi? Why not?“

She grimaced at Sugawara, who looked at you confused. You shrugged as you pushed Aoi towards him.

“Have a great day, sweetheart!“

“Okay!“ they both said at the same time. You looked at Suga, your eyebrows raised.

“I mean goodbye Mrs. L/N.“ You rolled your eyes, as Aoi gave one more disgusted look before, walking in front of him. Koushi gave you an  abashed look before walking behind Aoi.

“Oi, Koushi!“ you yelled, disdained looks were hurled your way, you brushed it off. You grinned widely as he turned around. You wiggled your hand in the air, brandishing your empty ring finger.

“It’s Ms.L/N, by the way.“ you slyly told him before turning around and walking away. You heard the distant groan of your daughter and the angelic chuckles of Suga.

Maybe your daughter was Cupid after all.

[midnight-lightning]

Of fanboys and soldiers

Summary: A mission goes horribly wrong and now Bucky’s life is in your hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: blood, mention of surgery, Angst, Fluff

"Look, who I found outside!" Natasha was walking into the kitchen, beside her a slightly nervous grinning Peter Parker, who's eyes strangely wandered off and on like he was searching for something. "Hello, Miss - erm Y/N," he stuttered, giving you a shy smile, then he seemed trying to find a position to stand in, not wanting to appear awkward- which he managed without real success. This boy was just adorable. You tried your best to hide your amusement behind a polite smile and rather pointed at the table you were sitting at, inviting him to join you. Maybe some company would be nice. "Want a pancake?" Peter's eyes brightened up for a second when he saw all the food in front of him, pancakes, fruits, yoghurts, fresh bread... everything that was needed to feed the stomachs of several avengers who lived in this - Tony's - house or at least all of them who were at home at this time. "Oh, no, no I probably shouldn't," he declined while he bashfully scratched the back of his head. "Kid, you're family. Now sit down and eat," you insisted and Peter - obviously touched by being called family - tentatively decided to join you at the breakfast table. Meanwhile Natasha- who had watched this scenario with obvious entertainment- pushed herself off the frame of the door and walked out. "Enjoy your meal, kids!" Kids? Excuse me? You leaned back in your seat to see her properly in the hallway before you shouted dryly, "We will! So sad you can't join us!" Poor Nat had to set out for a meeting together with Tony; it involved something about politics, Avengers something like that. Boring stuff. But the second she turned her head back to you, you flipped your chair straight again to avoid receiving any ... not very nice things. Or very hard things. And Nat could aim. Too good. On the other side of the table you noticed that Peter suddenly seemed more relaxed and less nervous now. He still hadn't touched any food, though. You squeezed your eyes in suspicion. "Peter Parker, are YOU nervous because of Natasha?" Poor boy didn't have to say anything, his shocked face and slightly reddened cheeks told everything. "Me? No, of course not! I mean... she's a little ... intimidating. You know what I mean? N-Not in a mean way but- sorry," he stuttered looking down on his plate. "Why are you laughing?" Immediately you stopped, not wanting to hurt his feelings or anything, nor to get blustered over by Tony afterwards for insulting his son. Besides you really didn't wanna see him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Kid. It's just - never mind." You watched him taking a big bite of his chocolate pancake and then humming in enjoyment. Speaking of Tony... "You know your Da- ugh Tony isn't here today, right?"

You made a face. It had already been so common within you Avengers that Tony and him were practically considered father and son that some slippers like that happened sometimes. Though you knew Tony had stopped bothering after a time, you didn't know how Peter would react to hear your inside nicknames for them. Whether he noticed or not he didn't show it, instead Peter lowered his third pancake and looked again kind of embarrassed. "I was - erm actually hoping I would see Bucky."

You lift a brow in surprise. "Bucky?" Have they ever even really met? But nonetheless he and Steve were on a mission in Canada right now and will not return in the next days. "Yeah, I feel like I need to apologize to him. You know for what happened at the airport." Oh. Yes. There they certainly did meet. Your heart swelled up at his statement and you realized there couldn't be any purer angel on earth than him. "Oh, Pete," you sighted. "You really do have a heart of gold, you know that? But I'm sure he never took offense at any of this,” you reassured him. "You see, he was rather shocked at how young you had been." "Wait, he has actually talked about me?" Peter seemed genuinely shocked about it, after literally being Tony's secret ace up his sleeve and kicking their asses all the way. He was seriously surprised people talked about him.

"Ohmygodthatssocool!" He chattered and you let out an amused laugh at his enthusiasm. We've found a fan boy!

If only Buck could hear this right now; See that there are so many people out there who cherished and admired him. People beside you and his best friends.

"Like the winter soldier! Or no, I shouldn't call him like that, he’s more like the white wolf! Bucky Barnes! I would literally-" "QUICK! WE NEED HELP!" Peter's speech was abruptly interrupted by loud voices coming from the entrance.

Alarmed you immediately stormed out of the kitchen, leaving knocked over chairs and dishes behind. You didn’t feel the need to be careful right now because it had been clearly Steve’s voice shouting for help, who shouldn’t have been here for another two days. Unless something had utterly gone wrong. The first thing you noticed, was the huge amount of blood covering up the ground on which Steve stood. The man himself looked like shit. Beaten up with bruises and even burns all over his body.

But leaned on his shoulder, was Bucky and he didn’t even look alive anymore.

Barely audible his name escaped your lips, while your heart stopped beating.

Within a second you were next to him, cupping his face in your hands only to wince at how cold the skin beneath your fingers felt.

Your eyes flickered over his pale skin, over his slightly turning blue lips and his eyes which twitched around the room, not focusing on anything. He was barely even conscious.

His face too was beaten up and burnt, a piece of his eyebrow was missing. But the worst was definitely the bullet wound in his abdomen that made him lose too much blood right now. It was everywhere.

Oh god all this blood.

You were losing your mind.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry

Y/N, calm down. You got this. He needs you.

This all happened within the few seconds you needed to get a grip on yourself.

With a pounding heart you took a deep breath while switching in your professional Doctor mode.

“What happened?” You asked Steve while you slipped to Bucky’s other side so the both of you could carry Bucky into the treatment room.

“We were already on our way back home, thinking we already got everything covered,” Steve started to explain, sounding out of breath. “When they literally appeared out of nowhere. God, everything went so fast then. They were so many. And suddenly they were shotguns and explosions everywhere. And Bucky, this idiot, felt the need to safe me from a bullet.”

Yes, that sounded like the Bucky you knew, always ready to sacrifice himself for people he cared for.

“The hospital was too far away, didn’t want to take the risk, so I brought him back here. I just didn’t know If he … if he would make it any longer.”

You nodded, taking the information in. “He will. He will, Steve.” You answered firmly, but you weren’t sure if you were convincing him or rather yourself.

Carefully the both of you placed Bucky on the treatment table and instantly you reached for the nearest towel you could find. You ripped open his shirt to have a better look at the bullet wound and enough room to apply pressure to ease the blood flow.

Bucky groaned out of pain, making you wince. “I’m so sorry, Buck, but I have to do this.”

Suddenly his hand grasped your wrist.

You froze.

“Y/N?” Barely even a whisper, but you still heard him. His eyelids flattered, struggling to stay awake.

A little relief washed over you face, hearing his voice. At least he had still the strength to talk.  

Softly you put his hand back on his chest. “Shh, save your strength, alright? I need you to hold on, love.”

When you looked up you noticed that Bruce had already arrived in the room, clearly shocked at the view. Still, once he got a picture out of the whole situation he went over to you and without a further question just took a new towel and kept applying pressure on Bucky’s wound instead.

That gave you the time you needed to gather every tool you will need for the small operation. Thereby you lifted your head to Steve and Peter who were watching the scenery with both fear and concern. While Steve looked a bit more stabled Peter turned alarmingly pale himself. He shouldn’t be seeing that right now.

“Steve? Are you in a stable condition right now? Or do you have a serious inju-“

The Captain immediately shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. Please, Bucky is more important in this moment.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering to Peter for a second. “Pete, I need you to leave this room. I don’t want you to witness this.”

The poor boy seemed to be in quite a shock but Steve put his arm around his shoulder and gave you a forced smile. “I’ve got this, Y/N.”

With a last, worried look to his best friend, he and Peter left the room, leaving you and Barnes alone.  

You moved the table with the tools next to where Bucky lay, reaching for the Anesthetic injection when you noticed the blood on your hands.

His blood.

It was everywhere.

His blood.

He was dying.

You could lose him.

His blood.

 Suddenly you felt warm hands covering your trembling fingers, startling you but bringing your mind back to earth. Bruce gave you a small smile but nodded sternly and internally you just wanted to slap yourself. Yes, he would die if you keep sitting here! You had done this over a thousand time, get a grip, Y/N!

But it just never had been Bucky’s life you needed to safe…

Bruce gave you a sympathetic but reassuring smile, before he gently took the syringe out of your hand. While he injected it to Bucky you took the time to prepare everything – yourself included - for what was coming.

“You got this?”

You nodded, not saying anything.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next few hours you could easily call the worst of your life.

Bucky’s pulse had become even weaker, his vitals worse. His whole life was literally in your hands. You didn’t dare to imagine what would happen if his heart would just stop beating, you couldn’t because then you would start to lose your mind and then you would have a breakdown and then no one would be there to safe him.

So you gave your best in removing the bullet out of his body, stopping the bleeding, sewing the wound.

You and Bruce had done everything you could possibly do.

Now the wound was fully treated and bandaged. Bucky’s face was cleaned, the burns creamed.

You were exhausted and drained on a new level, but by god, you couldn’t let yourself sleep right now. You weren’t even able too.

Not when Bucky, your Bucky was lying here, barely having escaped death.

Bruce had gone to bed a couple of hours ago, of course only after he had helped to take Bucky over to his room. Thanks to the serum in Buck’s blood, which ensured that he didn’t need any infusions, he could lay vacantly and comfortable in his bed.  

You sat next to him on a chair, watching his peacefully resting face. Fondly you brushed some hair out of his face.

HE had finally gained a little more colour and even his heart rate was normal again, giving you hope that he’ll finally be awake soon.

“Please, come back to me,” you whispered while you gently brought his hand up to you lips, putting a soft kiss on it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

You must have felt asleep because the next thing you knew Steve was entering the room, a frown on his face.

“Bucky is stable now,” you murmured still half asleep, trying to hide the yawn that escaped you.

Steve chuckled. “Yes, I got it the other twenty times you’ve said that today, too. I’m more concerned for you, Y/N.”

“Me? But how are you feeling? I see Bruce had done a good job on your own injuries.”

“Don’t try to change the topic. You know what? You go and get some deserved sleep, while I watch over him, alright?”

“But if anything happens- “you protested.

“I’ll make sure to call you,” Steve promised, a soft smile on his lips, before he shooed you out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep. Not when he wasn’t in reach anymore.

So you paced around the rooms, cleaning anything that was in sight, just to keep your thoughts from the endless racing ‘what ifs’. Friday updated you with every small information or change or anything that concerned Bucky’s health.

When you entered the kitchen you were surprised to find Peter was still here, eating Tony’s inventories of his favourite cookies. This time it was you who joined him.

Apparently he couldn’t sleep either so the next few hours you let yourself get distracted by Peter’s entertaining stories and little jokes, until the end of Steve’s shift drew to a close.

Carefully, not wanting to make any loud noises you opened the door to Bucky’s and yours shared room, Peter who wanted to visit Bucky too, was right behind you.

The early morning sunshine shined through the window right on Bucky’s peaceful features. It made him look like an angel. Though it would be beautiful any other time, now it just made your heart clench.  

With a very exhausted face Steve stood up from the chair he was sitting at and ran his hand through his messy hair, while he still managed to give you a hopeful smile.

“How is he?” You asked him, while you slowly approached Bucky’s bed.

Steve cleared his throat. “His vitals are still fine. Bruce came a couple of hours ago to take a few tests. Everything looked good.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I thought you promised me…” You turned around to the Captain reproachfully and a little hurt but he just looked slightly guilty.

“Y/N, have you seen yourself? I wanted to let you sleep at least for a while.”

Peter, who noticed the uprising tension between you caused by the lack of sleep, immediately stepped in. “But when’s he gonna wake up?”

“I don’t know, Pete.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your chest.

“But- But it’s a when, right? Not an if?”

“Of course, Pete, I-“

“How long are you guys going to stand around my bed like a bunch of creepers?”

You whirled around. “Bucky...”

There he was… even though he just woke up he already had this amused glint in his blue eyes, watching you all.

With a racing heart you knelt down on the ground in front of where he lay. While you gently put a hand on his forehead to see if his fever vanished you tried to hold your tears back. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky used his hand to put it on top of your own before he grinned weakly. “Well, my eyebrow hurt.”

You chuckled and managed a teary laugh. “Oh? Just your eyebrow?”

Considering there was nearly nothing left of his right eyebrow…

You moved a little as Steve knelt down beside you, giving a little space. “You gave me quite a fright there, pal.” He stated, looking just as relived as you felt. “You know I’ve had everything under control.”

Bucky laughed at this, clearly not believing anything. “Yeah sure. I’ve hear this one over 70 years ago, too, you know.”

Suddenly his eyes locked on something behind you and it was a moment of realization lasting only a split second. When you turned around to see what had caught his attention you noticed Peter who had appeared in the door frame, looking a little bit embarrassed by all the eyes laying on him.

“Surprised to see you here, Spider kid,” Bucky said to which Peter’s eyes widened.

“You- you do really remember me?”

“How couldn’t I? Your attack was quite surprising at the airport. With those sticky ...” Bucky tried to  intimate peter’s movement, struggling for words.

“Nets. Spider nets,” Peter explained with an excited and proud grin. 

“You made them yourself?”

You looked over to Steve who had been watching their conversation in delight and the both of you shared an amused grin about the fan boy. You decided to give them turning friends a little space.

“You’ll be okay?” you mouthed and when Bucky gave you a reassuring nod you and Steve left the room for a while.

You went to the kitchen where you prepared some sandwiches and something to drink for everyone and put them on a tablet.

Steve sat down on a chair at the kitchen isle removing some leftover cookie crumbs. “Did Bruce finally go to bed?”

“Yes, fortunately. Though, I don’t think it will last any longer. He’s Bruce after all.” 

The whole night he had stayed awake taking care of all of you, bringing blankets, food, coffee, treating Bucky… He was a real hero.

“And you should go, too, you haven’t really slept in more than 30 hours,” he said in a stern tone.

“Take a sandwich, Steve.”

“And I know you weren’t sleeping during my shift!” He protested but took the sandwich nevertheless.

You held both your hands up in defense. “Alright, alright! You got me there. Let me just- “A pleading look to the door that lead to Bucky’s room and he understood.

“Yeah, yeah, sure go ahead but I’m watching you.”

With raised eyebrows but still smiling you made your way over to Bucky again, though not without shouting over your shoulder, “You’re not my Dad, Steve!”

You walk in on Peter and Bucky laughing about something; Peter still with a bright, joyful grin on his face. Delighted for this conversation with his hero.

With a smile on your lips you leant against the doorframe and watched the scenery. Bucky was obviously still weak and tired yet you could still see the amusement in his eyes. It meant a lot for him that this boy admired him. While there’s certainly a lot of respect from Peter’s side, there’s not a bit of fear, just honest curiosity.

As soon as Peter noticed you he said a quick goodbye to Bucky and wished him a good recovery, then he hurried out of the room, leaving the both of you alone.

Bucky meets your eyes and you just stopped, and of course you couldn’t help but admire the loving and tender expression in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey there,” you whispered softly.

“Hi, doll.”

Slowly you made your way to sit on the edge of his bed. “Peter’s an adorable kid, isn’t he?”

A small laugh escaped his lips and made your heart beat double.

“Indeed, he is. I like his spirit.”

A moment of silence occurred in which the both of you just looked at each other.

“You quite scared me there, Buck,” you then stated, not trusting you voice to speak any louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, I didn't expect to return to you this way, either.”

“How are you feeling?” You placed a hand on his right cheek. “And now please be honest.”

Bucky took a deep breath before he closed his eyes and put his own hand on top of yours. “I’m feeling way better than you think, doll. Don’t be concerned.”

You frowned in astonishment. He’s got nerves. “Don’t be concerned? Love, you’ve just been hit by a bullet. You have cuts and bruises and burns all over your body! How can I not be concerned? Why - why are you looking at me like that?”

He was looking at you in a way as if he didn’t hear a word you just said. Bucky just laid there, smiling, while he lifted a hand to your cheek and gently struck it.

“I’ve missed you.”

Bucky moved to sat up halfway and you just opened your mouth to protest to no move or the stitched will reopen, when he was already pulling you in to a soft kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and as always your whole body and mind said good night.

“Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day,” he murmured in between your lips.

Then don’t stop, was all you wanted to say, but you realized his health was more important right now. So you removed yourself a little and wanted to look reproachfully but honestly you couldn’t help with this man. “You’re still looking rather pale, love, you should stay in bed for a while. I’ll bring you food.”

But the moment you let go of him he pulled you further down again so you were now leaning against his side.

Immediately you protested. “You’re injured, Buck. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m still fit enough for this,” he replied cheeky while laying his arm around you. Snuggling into him, always careful not to hurt him somehow, you were about to close your eyes and just enjoy this moment, when a chuckle made you rip them open again.

Peter stood in the door frame, a mischief grin on his face.

“Oh, and Mr. Bucky?

Your eyebrow looks lit, by he way!”

[green-blue-heller]

It feels like every other day, I hear another song that could apply to Dean/Cas that I have to drop everything to add to my playlist so I don’t forget. What’s your go-to Dean/Cas songs?

- 🎩

Here’s my top three:

Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab (I mean… duh…)

Salvation by Skillet

Someone you Loved by Lewis Capaldi

There’s more, obviously. But these are the the top three that rot my brain lol 😂

[sortasirius]

Re: the cw or shitshow. Are we forgetting just *how on point* the SOTD and QOTD's have been for these last few episodes? And there are literally 2 songs that could not apply to anyone but Cas(angel with a shotgun) or Dean and Cas(the night we met). Especially that last one. Regarding each oour mains, it can't apply to Dean and Sam because brother's, won't apply to Dean, Sam and Jack, since that wasn't really a meeting, more of a reckoning, won't apply to Sam and Cas, because 'boy with the (1/2)

This is a good take, good analysis.

Ultimately, even if the quotes and songs mean nothing (which I don’t think they do ESPECIALLY with scene 28 in 15x20), there’s simply too much evidence to ignore that Misha was in the final two episodes.

Cas is still hugely important, I really just cannot believe that the writers would have Cas speak this huge truth to Dean and now allow him to speak his own truth to Cas, too much weight has been put on it for that.

[bestsongby]

New Thoughts on Old Classics:

Hotel California, by the Eagles. 1976

Is it Essential? 

The Eagles (or, more specifically, Henley and Frey) were often viewed as cocaine-fueled El Lay misogynists. I think the cocaine-fueled and El Lay are indisputable, but is the misogynist tag a little unfair? Could be.

I’ve always been fascinated by Hotel California, the Eagles’ bazillion selling magnum opus, and how it plays with that perception in mind. 

Hotel California is the Eagles stretching their powers as far as the rubber band will allow before it snaps or loses its shape forever, which probably explains why their only subsequent release as an active band was the lackluster The Long Run, a collection of half-assed disco shuffles and by-the-numbers rockers. (aside from barely an Eagle Timothy B. Schmidt’s heartfelt soft rock gem “I Can’t Tell You Why,” and barely upright Eagle Joe Walsh’s catchy as fuck guitar rocker “In the City.”)

For what it’s worth, the stretched rubber band theory is one I apply to most great rock acts who spend any time working under the Album as Art theory of record making. (acknowledging that there have been many, many Not Great bands operating under this theory) The Beatles wisely realized they’d reached that point with Abbey Road, and packed it in before the slope slipped. The Stones began that climb with Beggar’s Banquet, and went from strength to strength until they reached their apex by plunging back down through the depths with Exile on Main St. The Kinks bucked the trend to some degree by releasing one pretty brilliant and one almost pretty brilliant album after their ultimate statement of intent, The Village Green Preservation Society. The Who…well, the Who never really got there. They fooled the world into believing Tommy was their Everest flag-planting, but the truth is Quadrophenia was a better album. All of which obscures the fact that the Who’s greatest album is Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy, a perfect collection of classic singles, few of which managed to tickle the U.S. charts. 

And then there are the Loves (Forever Changes) and Zombies (Odessey & Oracle), who strayed outside their comfort zones long enough to produce single discs that stand up to the greatest of the Greatest, despite neither band ever really being truly among the Greatest. (and, yes, both bands were otherwise very, very good at times)

Whew. I digress.

Let’s start with this: Is Hotel California a great album?

I’d like to say it is, but it might not even be the Eagles’ best album. I think, assuming assessing a “best” of anything Eagles-related doesn’t make your stomach clench, an argument could be made for One of These Nights (the album that immediately preceded this one – which easily wins the battle of cover art, anyway). But Hotel California is the most Eagles of Eagles albums, and stands as the best summation of their moment in the sun. And, it marks that moment when tuneful music produced by strong personalities could dominate the American pop culture landscape like no other medium.

In hindsight, Hotel California, riding shotgun with Fleetwood Mac’s equally mammoth Rumours, stands as a signpost in a pivotal moment in pop culture’s de-evolution from artist-controlled playground to complete corporate takeover. The suits always knew there was money in the music, but, holy shit, this much money?

Hotel California is an arrogant, confident, pretentious, calculated work of fiction, and you can hum along to it. It’s dominated by Don Henley, but it’s the input of the other band members that prevents it from completely collapsing under its own weight.

So, in review, let’s start with the title track, which can almost definitely be tuned in somewhere on your terrestrial radio dial at this very moment.

“Hotel California” started as a killer guitar riff by lead guitarist Don Felder. (Fittingly, Felder, who primarily kept his head down and played the shit out of his guitar throughout the Eagles’ history, eventually became estranged from the band) Once Don Henley grafted his lyrics to the music, the song became the ultimate distillation of the Eagles’ Desert Cocaine Tableau. Most of the group’s biggest hits were pretty direct, lyrically. A woman either pissed them off, or a woman was invited to lay down in the desert with them. Or sometimes the women were left behind while the band wrote their own desperado inspired mythology. But the fragmented imagery in “Hotel California” could only really make sense if the listener has a straw permanently lodged up his nose. The Witchy Woman of the past becomes the hostess of a demonic hostel where pink champagne replaces wine and pretty boys dance endlessly in sweat drenched courtyards. It seems as if the Hotel California is a place to run to and to run from, and we’re pretty sure Henley is only lamenting the “mirrors on ceiling” because all of his coke is now going to wind up on the floor.

With all of that said, the interplay between the guitars is deathless, and even vague descriptions of driving through the desert at night are enough to conjure up personal imagery for anyone confused as to what “colitas” is (are?). (The fact that the Eagles played an acoustic version of this live is either proof that they’re assholes, or that, like Eric Clapton’s tedious acoustic return to “Layla,” they just don’t quite understand the reasons for their own success – Felder trumps Henley here, and that’s that)

With that out of the way, we catch our breath and listen to the gang take it down a notch (with the help of JD Souther – the Eagles were never lacking for talented SoCal co-conspirators, starting at the beginning with Jackson Browne) with “New Kid in Town,” which, damn it, is pretty unassailable, musically. It’s got hooks for days, lush production that never swamps the tune, and a sincere, understated vocal performance from Glenn Frey, backed by great group harmonies. What? The lyrics? Well, okay. The woman is doing him wrong (in the third person, for some reason – maybe it’s not manly to admit you’re the one being cuckolded?), and she’s not living up to her end of the bargain, and…

Okay, you get the point. It’s a Henley/Frey lyric.

“Life in the Fast Lane” (It’s interesting to note the band led the album off with Hotel California’s only three single releases – all smash hits, of course) kicks in next, and we’re reminded overtly of the cocaine. It’s a great radio rocker – guitar licks weaving in and out, featuring maybe the slickest production on the album, and Henley doesn’t spare the dude in the equation this time, letting us know that both parties are feeding each other’s sinful excesses (sex and drugs). It’s a tale as old as Los Angeles, and the spoken “are you with me so far” dropped in by Henley manages to insult the listener almost by accident. (yeah, we’re with you, Don! Sex and drugs go hand-in-hand with rock and roll, brother! Revelation!)

And then we roll into “Wasted Time.” In which Henley (boy, so far, this is really a Don disc more than a Glenn disc) strains to let the poor dumb broad who left him know that she’s done nothing but fuck up her love life by fucking the wrong dudes, and, most importantly, by leaving Henley. It’s definitely this type of sentiment that allows critics to glue the MYSOGYNY label on our heroes. It never occurs to Don that this girl might have made the right choice in leaving a dude who not only plods through an orchestrated piano ballad about the terrible decisions she’s made, but backs it up with an orchestral reprise to hammer the point home. (the reprise actually originally opened side two, just to make sure you couldn’t escape the sentiment by flipping over the album – the fucking Eagles led off side two of their biggest album with an orchestral reprise. Admire their balls)

The sequencing of Hotel California comes across as pretty messy in the era of the compact disc/digital album, with the “Wasted Time(s)” dropped right smack into the middle of things, and “Life in the Fast Lane” book-ending the song(s) with the next track up…

And it’s another Henley rocker (what demons was Frey battling in 1976 that allowed him to take such a backseat to his his white ‘fro-sporting partner?), “Victim of Love.” It’s a catchy rocker about…some poor dumb broad. I hate to harp on the cocaine, but how much of it was Stevie Nicks doing to think Henley was a fun dude to party with? Anyway, this one is another radio staple, despite never being released as a single. Truthfully, all the album really needed was “Life in the Fast Lane” to remind us the boys could rock a little. But here they slowed it down a notch in case you had trouble keeping up with them the first time. 

And then, out of nowhere, we’re dropped into Joe Walsh’s melancholy reflection on life, “Pretty Maids All in a Row.” I can’t say exactly what the Eagles were thinking when they pulled Walsh into the band (”Hey – this dude makes us look sober!”), but I’d be hard-pressed to believe they anticipated his first recorded contribution would be such a beautiful, naked sentiment, punctuated not with his trademark guitar rips, but by piano and synthesizer. It’s a jarring shift in tone, helping the album achieve an eclectic vibe it was struggling to achieve with Henley dominating the proceedings, and all the more powerful for it.

Anyway, great track. And it’s followed by another great track.

Backing up “Pretty Maids” is, for my money, the best track on the album, and one of the most overlooked songs in the band’s catalog. No coincidence it’s a Randy Meisner song. “Try and Love Again” is a soaring, hopeful rocker, punctuated by Meisner’s upper register, and some truly uplifting guitar soloing. It’s a mystery why this track wasn’t released as a single, unless Henley and Frey were still annoyed that Meisner’s “Take It to the Limit” was the band’s first number one single. But it’s the one track from the album I find myself revisiting most often, without apology. It’s also worth noting that while Meisner’s lyric is treading on self-pity, he’s not blaming a chick for his problems. 

At this point we’ve wound our way through a collection of hit singles, timeless riffs, and a couple of contributions from lesser used band members that stand up to the hits. It’s hard to say there’s a definite theme at play here, although California and Los Angeles are definite players on the scene. So it’s up to Henley, again, to hammer things home with the most pretentious track in the Eagles’ entire catalog.

“The Last Resort” answers the question, “What if Randy Newman didn’t have a sense of humor?” A confused history of California (and over seven minutes long, to punctuate its importance as a statement), complete with references to the “Red Man” and Malibu and all of those bright lights that sullied the landscape, presented by a group that pretty actively moved closer and closer to the neon the further their hitmaking prowess ascended. The song starts as a literal travelogue about a girl from Providence (”The one in Rhode Island”), and then slips into a reminder that California has really succeeded at excess, which is evidently a bad thing.

In the end, it’s all the preacher’s fault, anyway. One suspects that Henley (and Frey?) realized he wasn’t really headed toward any logical conclusions with this one, and the lesson we’re left with is that the missionaries traded the Red Man’s peace of mind and started us on the path toward…well…all of that cocaine and colitas, I guess. (it is a pretty tune, though)

And that’s it. Nine songs (split into ten tracks), three hit singles, and 38 million copies sold.

Is Hotel California essential? In terms of understanding the “evolution” of pop culture, it’s an essential landing point for those curious how Los Angeles went from acoustic canyon-dwelling hippie haven to the paranoid personal driveway for limos filled with coke-addled celebrities wearing sunglasses at midnight because the lights fuck with what’s left of their peripheral vision.

But in the battle of juggernaut Los Angeles pop albums, Rumours creams Hotel California because Fleetwood Mac can be heard shutting out the world and wrestling with their relationships while coincidentally at the peak of their songwriting and performing abilities, whereas the Eagles were trying to make statements without much to state. Rumours is essential. Hotel California sounds good when you’re not paying attention too closely. 

[leahxx129]

Heaven’s on Fire (Castiel x Reader)

This is my submission to the talented @lettersofwrittencollective​ ‘s 1K Celebration challenge. Congrats once more! :))

I had this idea in the back of my mind for quite a while now and her challenge came as a heavenly sign to write & publish it, so here we go. My prompt can be found in bold in the text. I hope you all enjoy it! :) Oh, and if you want to listen to the song mentioned in the fic, you can do that here.

Disclaimer: Tumblr is being weird again so if you’re using the app, the ‘Keep Reading’ cut off line may not be visible inspite of the fact that I always insert one.

Summary: You’ve successfully managed to get off the grid but thanks to your best friend, the one person you wish to see the least finds you and reveals a surprising truth. Will it be enough to bury the hatchet though? 

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex

Word count: 2.790-ish

You are tapping your fingertips against your glass as you watch the ice cubes slowly melt and dissolve in the bourbon. Is this your second? Or third? You have no idea. And frankly, you don’t even give a damn.

This Friday night is just like any other in the past year – you find a bar, have a few drinks… sometimes you leave alone, sometimes you don’t. It depends on your mood and on how attractive the person trying to get in your pants is. Truth be told though; you haven’t been so picky lately as you’ve realized that when you close your eyes, they all look just like him.

You’ve been here for about an hour now and only two candidates have summoned the courage to approach you but sadly, none of them measure up to your lowered standards. You roll your eyes in annoyance and down what’s left of your drink. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, another bourbon is placed on the small round table in front of you. Your look of disapproval soon turns into bewilderment as your eyes travel to the face of your server.

“Feathers?” you blurt out and despite your best efforts, the pet name sounds more like a question than a statement.

A faint smile is playing in the corner of his mouth.

“It’s been a while since I heard that one.”

Castiel sits down across you and takes a sip from the booze he got for himself. Hundreds of questions are racing through your mind and you’re having a hard time deciding which one to ask first.

“Which one of those asshats sold me out?” you eventually settle on one. Around the apocalypse situation back in 2010, the angel branded your ribs with the spell that keeps people off the celestial radar, too, so he couldn’t have found you all by himself.

“Assuming you are referring to the Winchesters, it was Sam.”

“Should’ve thought so…” you say dryly. “When I texted him my location, I thought I made it clear that I’m only available in case of emergencies. “

“I sort of tricked him into believing this was an emergency.” he admits, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“What do you want, Cas?”

“I wanted to see you, Y/N.” your name rolls off his tongue the softest way possible. “When I was sent back to Earth from the Empty, I was perplexed not to find you in the bunker.”

“Yeah, well, I needed some space and a breath of fresh air.”

“A thousand miles away from there? From me?” he adds the last part reluctantly.

“You do not have the right to guilt-trip me, okay? If anything, I should be doing that to you…”

He draws his eyebrows together in confusion.

“I do not understand.”

Of course he doesn’t... You try to blink them away but a couple of hot teardrops stream down your face, nevertheless. He instinctively grabs your hand you’ve been resting on the table and squeezes it.

“Please look at me.”

Every fiber in your body is protesting because once you look into those ocean eyes, he wins… but you comply anyway.

“Explain?” he murmurs.

You hear the appeal leave his lips but all you can concentrate on is the way his fingers are pressing yours. It conjures the memory of the very first time you held hands...

You finished applying lipstick and checked your complete makeup in the review mirror. A sophisticated trophy wife was staring back at you, which meant that you accomplished your goal. You silently thanked the Lord Sam and Dean weren’t with you because you would never hear the end of their mockery.

“Okay, I’m done. Tell me, Feathers, how do I look?” you turned to Castiel who’d been riding shotgun before you parked your dark blue 1970 Ford Fairlane in the church’s parking lot.

“Uhm, you look lovely, Y/N, although you do not quite resemble your everyday self.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“For the sake of this mission I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be one.”

You shrugged then proceeded to give him a once-over.

“Well, you look dashing as always, but I suggest losing the trench coat. It doesn’t suit the occasion and we certainly don’t want to raise Father Milton’s suspicion. If he senses something is off, he’ll never lead us to his angel-hearing daughter.”

He appeared torn for a minute.

“But my angel blade is in my trench coat. If I leave it in your car and things take a turn for the worse, what will I use for protection?”

You pulled your chiffon skirt up, revealing a .45 Hardballer attached to your thigh. His eyes followed your abrupt movement but as soon as he realized where his gaze landed, he looked away. If you weren’t imagining, he even blushed a little.

“As long as we’re dealing with humans, this shall do.” you pulled the skirt back down. “Now c’mon. We need to find this Anna girl before the demons do.”

You both got out of the car and walked to the church’s entrance but before you went in, you adjusted his tie.

“Okay, Castiel, remember… we are Mr. and Mrs. Novak, expecting our first child, and we are here to see the girl who hears the angels so she could bless our baby.”

“I still believe this is a ridiculous cover story.” he commented.

“They’re religious people, they’re gonna buy it, trust me.”

With that, you took his right hand and laced your fingers with his. He almost yanked his arm away - you could tell from the little twitch you felt – but stopped himself from doing so.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“We have to make our cover realistic and this is one way to do that. Relax a bit, would you? You’re stiffer than a stick…”

“What you’re saying is not humanly possible for my vessel, but I suppose I perceive the insinuation.”

You rolled your eyes at his awkwardness and pushed the church door wide open.

The memory makes you smile and when you look up to his face, you see him replicating your expression. He must’ve been reminiscing about the same thing.

You pull your hand from his grip and first you swallow your glass of bourbon, then his, too, not minding the puzzled look he gives you. You need all the liquid courage you can get.

“You want an explanation? Here you go!” you reply, feeling the warmth of alcohol spreading through your body. “I simply cannot be in your immediate proximity anymore, Cas, I just can’t! I have no idea when these feelings for you developed exactly, but they did. And every single time you sacrificed yourself for the greater good over the years, I died a little inside… which is crazy, because you’ve never seemed to be interested in me like that… So, when Lucifer killed you for the second time, that was the last straw. I couldn’t keep breaking my own heart for somebody who just sees me as a really close friend with occasional benefits. I had to get away in order to piece myself back together.”

He sighs your name passionately and the next second he leans over the table, gently captures your chin between his thumb and index finger and locks his lips with yours.

You’re not sure what amazes you more – the fact that he’s kissing you or the scene that starts outlining in your mind.

You remember the place that comes to life in your head. It’s the higher scale pub where you had your farewell drinks at with the Winchesters, Bobby and Cas the night before Sam let Lucifer wear him to the prom. Not counting the five of you and the bartender, the joint was empty - courtesy of the angel’s heavenly persuasion technique applied on the bouncer so he wouldn’t let anyone else in. 

But something isn’t quite right…this is not your memory. 

It’s Castiel’s, you realize.

Cas, Bobby and Dean were sitting around a table, the latter raising a hand to order another round of the most expensive scotch the place served. The world was ending, saving a few dollars on cheap drinks seemed utterly pointless. You and Sam were attempting to dance to an overrated pop song a few tables over, laughing whole-heartedly throughout the process. With a little liquor in his veins the man was a real talent on the dancefloor – or at least that’s what he thought.

“You do realize, Dean, that a few glasses of alcohol will not numb me to the point where I would forget what is ahead of us, right?” Cas inquired but before Dean had the opportunity to come up with a comeback, Bobby jumped in.

“They might not numb you but they’re sure as hell working for me!” he said as he took a sip from his newly arrived quality booze.

“All I’m missing is a hot babe on my laps...” Dean added “What do you guys say, shall we get ourselves some fun female company?”

“I do not know about Bobby, but it is a pass from my side.” Cas replied indifferently then averted the topic, asking what he’d been dying to know all night. “Why are Y/N and Sam dancing so close to each other? Their bodies are touching. Is there… is there something romantic between them?”

Dean and Bobby exchanged a curious glance.

“Cas… are you… jealous?” Dean chose his words carefully and asked in a tone only the three of them could hear.

“I don’t know, honestly. Emotions are a novelty to me.”

“Okay…how do you feel when you see them dancing that close?” Bobby tried approaching the topic differently and succeeded.

“I do not like it. I feel like it is wrong. I would like to be the one that close to her. But apparently, she is completely content with Sam’s proximity.”

“There’s nothing romantic between them, Cas.” Dean declared. “They used to date when they were high schoolers, but that’s it. They’re not an item anymore. So, go get your shot with her while you still can.” there was a short silence, but he continued “Man, my little brother must know something… I mean, staying friends after a breakup? I’m a ladies’ man and not even I can do that!”

“Enough of the bragging, idjit! Order another round instead, would ya? I’m still thirsty…” Bobby scoffed and downed the remainder of his drink.

The rest of the night went by fast. In the end, Bobby and Dean had to drag a very drunken Sam out of the bar as his own legs failed to support him. You returned from the restroom to find Castiel all alone.

“Hey, Feathers… were you waiting for me?” you asked with the sweetest smile he had ever seen and suddenly his heart began beating faster.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Go on…”

Instead of phrasing his thoughts, he just cupped your face and kissed you. After a short while you were the one to break the interaction and he instantly felt embarrassed, so he uttered the very first thing that came to his mind.

“Thank you, Y/N, for being such a great friend. I deeply appreciate it.”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, I guess…Is there anything else you wanted to share or…?”

“No, we can leave. The others are waiting outside.”

“Okay.”

He knew he screwed up. He had his chance and he totally blew it. But the worst part was that he had no idea how to make it right.

The flashback ends as Cas leans away and your eyes flutter open.

“You… you had a crush on me?”

“Ever since I met you, Y/N.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was convinced that a fierce, beautiful woman such as yourself could never accept a frail underdog such as myself to be by her side.”

His confession startles you immensely and you need a few seconds to collect your thoughts.

“You’re an idiot, Feathers.”  

“So I’ve been told.”

You both chuckle and this time it’s your turn to kiss him.

“There’s so much we need to catch up on…” you whisper against his lips, but he frowns, making you regret your words immediately.

“Uhm, we can’t just yet… first, there’s something I need to take care of.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

Funny how a four-letter word can hurt even more than any physical injury you have ever obtained during your career as a hunter.

“I see.”

“Y/N…“

“Don’t. Just leave, please.”

A flutter of wings indicates he complies with your wish. You call a taxi to take you to the motel you’re staying at as you’ve had enough to drink and don’t want to risk crashing the Fairlane. You are not in the mood for small talk, and sensing this, your driver turns up the volume on the radio. Heaven’s on Fire by KISS blasts through the speakers and it evokes the memory you associate with it.

Sometimes you just needed to take a break from hunting for the sake of your sanity and the estate in the Nebraskan countryside your grandma had willed you a couple of years prior proved to be an excellent safe haven. So consequently, when the Winchester found a very much so human Castiel, it wasn’t even a question where to hide him from the community of pissed off fallen angels.

On a particularly humid afternoon, you finished working on your car and took a quick shower to get rid of all the dirt and oil sticking to your skin. Having only a towel on, you proceeded to the kitchen with the intention of pouring yourself a glass of wine. Cas insisted on doing the grocery shopping, so you were all alone. Suddenly, Heaven’s on Fire by KISS started playing on the radio.

“God, I love this song!” you exclaimed and took a sip from your glass.

“I must say your taste in music is quite similar to Dean’s.” a voice spoke up behind you, making you jump.

You turned to see the ex-angel standing in the door with huge bags in his arms. He was back early.

“Jesus, Feathers, don’t sneak up on me like that! I almost threw my drink in your face and this shit is expensive! Every ounce of it should be treasured not wasted.” you scolded him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you it’s just… I just…” he was visibly struggling to express himself, but his gaze told you more than his words ever could as he slowly dragged it all over your body, examining every curve along the way.

“You’ve never seen a woman in a towel, have you?” you asked, not being able to suppress a smile.

“Only once in a movie about a pizza man.” he admitted shyly.

“A pizza man?” you furrowed your brows but soon enough you remembered the story about this. ”Oooh, I get it. In that case... put the groceries on the counter.”

He appeared a bit confused but did as instructed anyways. When he turned back to your direction, you undid the knot on your towel and let it pool around your legs.

“Now, I want you to show me what you learnt from that pizza man.”

“Are you okay, lady?” the driver asks, turning the volume down a bit and you realize you’ve been crying.

“Uhm, yes… I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” you reply while wiping your eyes.

You roll down the window and let the cool air dry your wet cheeks. This is the last time you allow yourself to be devoured by sorrow because of Castiel. Tomorrow you’ll retrieve the Fairlane and get gone, not leaving a trace you can be found upon.

Cas on the other hand goes back to Lebanon, Kansas, and roams the streets for hours. Eventually he stops in front of two liquor stores adjacent to each other. He wants to make up for all those years you two lost, he really does… but getting together with you would mean the world’s greatest happiness to him and that’s when the Shadow from the Empty would come and drag him back to the land of eternal slumber. He needs to find a way to defeat the Shadow first and then he’ll look for you. But until then there is one choice to make – which one of these liquor stores should he drink to numb the ache in his chest? Maybe both.

[thecardsimagine]

I swear I saw this HC that Julian may have a hard time getting a boner when drunk by someone, but I can’t find that post to save my life (pls sent it to me so I can link it properly ;-;) but basically that’s what’s happening.

EDIT: The amazing @omfg-angel-with-a-shotgun​ found it! Click here to read the original HCs

Characters: Julian Devorak, Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rated: Lime

≿————-————- 　❈　 ————-————-≾

Julian was never one to pass up on a good drink at the Rowdy Raven. He loved being there almost as much as he loved being with you, but you were sure you held the top place in his heart. However, when two of his favorites came together, he got somewhat... reckless.

Or absolutely bonkers. Without restrains. Way over the top. Simply Julian.

You tentatively rubbed over his back, kneading your thumb in between his shoulder blades. Hunched over, he leaned on the tabletop, groaning whenever you applied pressure - a strange mix of exhaustion and pleasure running through him. "I overdid it," he wailed, giving away as you pressed your fingertips into one side of his back.

"Oh, no. That was just the table dancing, Julian. Just... the table dancing," you tried to comfort him, holding back on the smirk that kept breaking through your lips. With another sip of your own keg, you fished for your purse, putting down some coins to pay the expenses of Julian's party-mood. Nodding towards the bartender who had his eyes on you two for a while - fearing Julian might leave behind some unwelcome parting gift - you waited for him to give you the okay before you got ready to go.

Ushering Julian out of the booth, you endured his groans and moans, two long, helpless legs staggering to a stand and almost giving away beneath him. But you hooked your arm casually under his shoulders and around his body, Julian more than willingly hunching down to you and gripping onto you in his own attempt of getting some support. With a small wave to the owner and some patrons that were barely responding to it after having partied with Julian, you led him outside, cold air crashing into both of your faces.

"What time is it?" he questioned, words barely resembling a spoken language anymore. "Pretty late, I'd say." He let out a chuckle, pulling you closer to his body as he felt you shiver in the night air. "Or pretty early, Sweetheart."

Drunken idiots you two were, laughing as you staggered through the hardly lit district of the town. Even intoxicated, Julian would have found his way back to Mazelinka's place, and you trusted him to do so. However, that didn't mean that you two got there without crashing into a few barrels and kicking over randomly places bottles on the ground.

But whenever you lost your footing, you were sure to be pulled back into his arms, twirling with him through the streets as if in an unrhythmical dance. And every time he pressed up a little closer, hands falling lower down your back, reeking Salty Bitters in your knows when his face came close.

Until it wasn't just close anymore.

Demanding, hot lips bothering yours, tongue traveling between them. Hands on your ass, gripping it ever so tenderly, like a question before getting more confident. Fingers slipping under the cheeks, in between your thighs, feeling you up, you let out a gasp against his mouth, which was appreciated with a grin of his.

"Maybe it's still early enough..." he lulled, letting himself be interrupted by your hands cupping his cheeks, pulling him flush towards you for another kiss.

"To get frisky?" you finished, tearing yourself away from him, which was met with a curt whine of disagreement over your actions. But Julian was quick to catch himself, smiling again like the love-drunk idiot he was. "Mhm, frisky, alright."

Arms slung around his neck, he pecked your lips again, over and over, using a free hand to pull up one leg. With your legs pressed to someone's exterior wall, you were sandwiched between the hot-cold of the bricks and his body. Neither of you would have bothered if someone had passed you at that moment, too caught up in your doings, but luckily, the streets were pretty empty.

You felt his hips pressing closer with your leg out of the way, lower body grinding into yours. It drove you both to a moment of moaning into each other, eyes closing as it was too dark to see anyway. You just wanted to enjoy the moment, the feeling of him against you, his groans, and the smacking of your lips the only things to your ears. How the pressure grew and dispersed from his fingers all over your body, that was all you wanted to feel.

But at the same time, something was missing.

Furrowing your brows, you shook your head lightly, making him back away from the kiss and leaving you some room. "Julian," you sighed, irritation swinging in your voice as you reached down, caressing his crotch. Surely, you felt him shiver from your touch, face leaning in close with a grin to kiss you, but it was nagging on you. There was no bulge forming, no hint of erection in his snug-tight pants, and you grew worried.

"Something wrong?" you asked, panting as he had moved to the sides of your face, teasing your neck and jaw. "Eh?" he finally noticed, clearing up space between you to look down. It was sheer impossible he could see in the darkness, but you felt one of his hungry hands release you, presumably to touch himself.

"I..." Falling into stutters, he eventually let go completely, stepping back and almost tumbling into the stream of water behind him. Admittedly, it felt a bit disappointing that he was so far away already. You would have lied if you said you weren't hot and bothered by the time this occurred, but you were just as fast to grip him, keeping him from falling.

"Maybe the cold?" you suggested, quickly leading him forward and back on track to your temporary home. You heard him stutter some more, feeling how tensely he held on to you while trying to come up with an excuse or explanation as to why his body had not the usual reaction, but you just hushed him, continuously asking him for directions.  

You were more than glad to finally get to the door, letting the distraught Julian fiddle with his keys to let you two in. He swore a little as he hit a shoulder trying to get through the door, but you two made it into the safe space, the fireplace still having sparks in it covered by ash.

Almost immediately - and now a little bit more desperate - you got help with undressing. Fabrics gliding to the floor, coats being flung over a chair. You two weren't exactly the epitome of quiet, but with the new hints of lust coming back to you, you at least did the best not to laugh loudly and wake Mazelinka.

As it was, you didn't get spared from feeling the urgency in Julian's touch as he seemingly worked himself up. Kisses got sloppy, groping a little off the areas it was supposed to feel good. You were in charge of correcting his touches and forcing him to kiss you more seriously, questioning if it was the influence of the alcohol or the desperation boiling in him.

To the point where your back hit the mattress a little too roughly, robbing you of your breath and giving you a moment to think before Julian followed. "No," you said firmly as he hovered over you, stemming your hands into his shoulders before he could lean down. Shifting awkwardly in your position, you shoved your way out of his body imprisoning you, sitting at the edge of the bed and sighing.

You had been sure that you wanted this as much as he did, but something felt wrong, and you didn't appreciate the forcefulness with which he tried to make it right. Julian stayed in the position you had left him in, unsure what exactly he had done wrong or if you even wanted him to approach you about what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you got up from the bed, turning around and crawling back up to him. "Let me," you suggested, though really, it was undebatable. With the moonlight filling the small back room, you could see his eyes turning from momentary confusion to excitement, Julian quick to turn.

Slowly, teasingly, you helped him out of his pants, taking the sweet time to prolong the whole procedure. His hands grazed your arms, a beg to satisfy him, and a promise that he'd be good. When you attempted to let go of the rest of your own clothes, he sat up, bringing the fabric over your head and taking the time to kiss along your exposed skin. Kissing along the line of your chest, the top of your shoulders, and the crook of your neck, you were filled with all kinds of tingling feelings.

It was on you to eventually shove him back into the pillows softly, lowering yourself to his crotch, tending to his hiding member. It wasn't very like you to take the initiative on preparing him, but it also wasn't very like him to not get a boner the moment you two emitted the want to copulate.

And you weren't going to lie, it was a struggle.

You really tried. Using your tongue to slip around it, stimulating him, Julian was moaning and groaning up above, but there was no movement in the region below. When you felt his hand on the top of your head as you worked your mouth around his cock, you knew he was getting desperate. Desperate for it to work, desperate for some release, but whatever was holding him back did not want him to as much as he wanted.

"[Name]... wait, hold one," he winced, and you immediately let off of him. Swallowing some salvia that had collected, you wiped your mouth with one hand, straightening your back and sat up. In your other hand, his limp member resided, really unimpressed by your effort. His own fingers slinked around and under yours, seemingly trying to make something happen as if he could use magic, but his voice grew more damned with every passing second.

"I don't... This is not... I really want to- I-"

"Schsch, it's alright," you cooed, inching closer to him and pulling his head against your chest. "It's not your day, maybe it's the Salty Bitters."

"But [Name]-" he whined, shaking in your hold as he got caught up in his emotions, working himself up about not being able to get it up. "I really want you... I love you, why is that not-"

"I know," you assured him, rubbing his back. "I know, and it's not your fault. Surely it's just not your day. Maybe it's the Salty Bitters," you suggested, trying to reason with him. Julian turned his face into your shoulder, hiding away against your skin while you tugged on a blanket nearby to cover you two. “I really wanted to- I- [Name] you got to believe me...”

"Tomorrow we will figure it out surely, it's alright," you mumbled, sinking into the mattress with him, holding him close to you. After a while, you felt him take deep breaths, arms coming around your torso to hold on as he finally let you comfort him. "I’m sorry," he muttered.

"You have no reason to." You felt him nod against your body, his arms wrapping a bit more welcoming around you, allowing you to settle against him as comfortable as possible.

And sometime between quiet sobs and hushes, confusion about what happened and promises that it was all fine, you two fell asleep pressed together tightly, loved. Knowing you'd wake up with no hard feeling and a clearer mind the next mornig, in the arm of the person you wanted to wake up next to.