#feel free to ​speculate away in the tags

[leonardcohenofficial]

rating sixties musicians from most to least likely to have given any woman an orgasm

[alectoperdita]

Out of context wips

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they'd be most likely to read. Multiple/all/none options are completely optional.

Thanks to @saiikavon for tagging me!

I'll try and do my best to do bad summaries of stuff that hasn't or barely been published before. Some of these are many years old so who knows if they will ever see the light of day.

Tagging @rosalind-hawkins, @unfriendlyamazon, @kaijous, @sushilabs, @bdeblueyes, @leechysmile, @arien-elensar, @heyholmesletsgo, and anyone else who wants to do this. Sorry if you were already tagged previously, my memory is full of holes.

Leave a reply/comment here if you would like to get tagged in future games!

[batsplat]

i really want to hear your opinion on this. I feel like some people underestimate pecco a lot. most of the people I’ve seen on here are talking like it’s certain that marc will do better than pecco next year, but I’ll be surprised if it’ll be actually like this. pecco has way more experience on the ducati and nobody understands the ducati like pecco does. see race weekends like assen or mugello, he’s literally unstoppable and I feel like he’s even holding back. plus pecco is 26yo and he’s in his prime and probably will be for at least two more years before the decline inevitably begins, and he’s injury free! but the real advantage he has over marc, in my opinion, is that he literally lives under pressure and he already knows that marc will try to hit him on the track and above all mentally. he knows what he is getting into. when he talks about wanting to maintain harmony in ducati it’s because he’s already aware that marc will ruin it. like yeah ppl r saying a lot that marc is going to destroy pecco and all that, but right now the facts state that pecco is a 2 times wdc back to back (probably 3 by the end of this year) and right now on the ducati he’s the best rider of the grid. marc won his last wdc in 2019, it’s been years since he won, and he got his arm fucked up in the process. so yeah marc will try everything to destroy pecco but he needs to be careful to not destroy himself in the process. (this is not marc hate, I’m just tired of seeing people understanding pecco)

first of all, I'm broadly with you on a lot of this, anon, though I wouldn't quite as far as to say I'm predicting pecco to beat marc. second of all, I do think I have a bit of a problem where I have my rational sports brain - but I also have the other less rational bits of my brain. and some of those irrational bits are currently stuck in this mode where I have two different fundamentally contradictory mindsets that are kinda... mental blocks in terms of me predicting what will actually happen next year

mental block #1 is 'you've been following sports all your life and you know how this goes'. like, I've kinda been conditioned to think if you aren't a wunderkind, one of the talents of the century, already a megastar when you were in your nappies bla bla, you're basically fucked? certainly fucked when you are going up against one of those prodigies. you may get close and trick everyone into thinking it's actually possible, but... idk. this is a mindset that broadly stood me in good stead when I started watching motogp, like you just don't bet against fuck you talent. something like 2017, I never really thought marc was going to lose that title. so when I look at marc and pecco, however much I rate pecco there's a bit of my brain that automatically goes 'yeah but marc will win anyway'. it's that kind of... sometimes things that look slim differences in sports, margins that should be small aren't actually small at all, and in a way the end outcome feels like it was always kinda inevitable. I get that same sense when I'm watching 2005 last lap duels between sete and valentino - these are situations where you both parties should have a decent shot, but somehow you know that if you ran the simulation one hundred times, it'd basically always go one way. it's the illusion of competitiveness. one guy's always got something a little bit extra in the back pocket

mental block #2 is that it's actually been really fucking long since I've seen marc win and there's been a lot of false dawns on this front. I thought he'd win the title in 2020. I kinda thought he'd win the title in 2021. I was at least open to the possibility he'd win it in 2022. okay, in 2023... but you could still go 'yeah but he's finally physically fit now' (or, well, you could until the first race weekend was done). and honestly? gut feeling, I was feeling pretty bullish about 2024, partly because I didn't think the gap between the bike specs would be this noticeable. so by now it's a bit? you know, I kinda need to see him win again to believe it? which he probably does too, just a touch, and that makes it a completely different proposition from all those other titles... within this sport in particular, it's really not that easy to recover from years in the wilderness. you never really know if he can get close to handling the field like he did in his prime until he does it again. and... however impressive I've found him this season, which I really, absolutely have, I still haven't seen that from him. I also feel like currently... the magic is still there but his pace is so fragile, and that used to be the really scary thing about him - the relentlessness of his pace. this year, it's one lap pace, it's weekend to weekend, it's how sometimes he's slower in races than you thought he'd be - and yes, there are all these other explanations, but... well, again, if the bike is holding him back, if it's the ducati adaptation period, then that's all well and good. but I'm not really going to feel that's true until I actually see the next step

now obviously both of those things can't be true - and the fun thing about next year is that I don't actually feel it's a done deal. because, yes, people do underestimate pecco. and also because, yes, there's still some real question marks about the version of marc we're getting. just look at this sachsenring situation... obviously 'someone could get injured' is quite a depressing way to look at future title fight permutations, but you can't really treat it as a certainty that it won't happen, no? I feel like one element of last year that doesn't quite get the attention it deserves is that pecco was winning that title a whole lot more comfortably before a bike ran over his leg. the race right after that was misano, where pecco had won the two previous years and there's zero reason to believe he couldn't have done so again rather than take two laboured p3's. that's not a title fight anyone's primarily remembering as an injury arc (cf too the le mans crash) - but it clearly did play a big role and could easily have been decisive, without actually taking out one of those two contenders of competition. marc used to win his titles with a whole lot of throwing himself down the road to find the limit of his bike, but he can't afford to do that any more (if he ever could). we still need to see what version of marc we're getting, if we're getting a version who can just be fast anywhere come sunday - or a very good version of marc who isn't quite that. who knows exactly how much worse the gp23 is than the gp24! who knows how much more there still is to come in terms of ducati potential from marc! we have rough indications, but it's far from definitive. maybe one of them doesn't click at all with next year's bike! we'll only know when we see it play out!

and yet I still expect deep down that marc wins that. it's just kinda supreme belief in his fuck you levels of talent, the belief that he'll figure it out somehow because I've seen him do it so many times. and of course, the other big problem is we don't know what version of pecco we're getting! I have talked before about how historically unusual pecco is as a champion in many ways, which for me always makes it quite tricky to figure out what he'll do in basically any situation. like, where is his ceiling? is he still going to get better? is he going to get his act together? my problem is that I feel like I enter every single season going 'yeah I reckon this year pecco will get his act together, ugh he's going to dominate the field' and then it's just a bit? is this just who you are as a rider, or is this something you can still change?

the thing is, with my fullest respect to pecco's titles, however much I enjoyed those train wrecks, obviously you cannot do this against a version of marc marquez that is remotely up to scratch. like, you just cannot. pecco cannot do a 2022 and expect to win the title. against an even slightly serious version of marc marquez. on the same bike. pecco can't really do a 2023 either. I'll give him a pass for some of those late season results, but if you're chucking it down the road that often early on then, yeah, no

that being said... low key if you ignore all the little numbers, this year is actually a serious title fight...?

like I am always aware that acknowledging this could make them both dnf five times in a row but...? there's one sunday race one of them haven't won, and cota is its own thing. everything else...? whisper it softly but this is a good title fight? 2022-23 were sort of accidentally good because everyone's errors and runs of good forms and performance trajectories just kinda coalesced so you got late season drama, but this? consistent high level of performance from both blokes, decent wheel-to-wheel action between both title rivals at several different races (definitely more than in 2015 and everyone remembers that as a classic, also on course to be more than in 2013 and most years 2007-12). idk, at what point do we just have to acknowledge these guys are pretty good at what they do? sure they're on the strongest bike, as are the vast majorities of blokes who win titles historically. but bastianini's reasonably highly rated and he's not even gotten particularly close to winning a sunday race this year on the exact same bike - one p2 on merit snagged on the last lap and another one less on merit when vinales was highsided to the moon for mechanical reasons right ahead of him. yes, the title contenders have had some howlers... pecco's portimao and catalunya sprints were... well, y'know, and martin's jerez race and mugello sprint were also... y'know. but apart from that?

idk man... we can cry over photos of casey on his gp7 all we like, but at the end of the day these twits have come out with some class performances these last two years. and at a certain point you've just gotta hand it to them. they've become more experienced at how to manage a title fight, which is how you get a version of martin this year who is still fast but is less likely to phillip island it. some of those performances late last season were great! for every martin qatar and pecco india, you also get a martin thailand and a pecco indonesia. maybe they'll stop chucking it down the road so often, or maybe they'll keep chucking it but so will marc, because these days they have ridiculously many opportunities to do so! I also think it's worth pointing out that minus some questionable early season form from pecco, those two are basically always on the pace! they're always there or thereabouts! that's how marc used to kill his title rivals, not necessarily by winning a bunch of races but by making sure he was always picking up points - because he didn't have any truly slow weekends. these guys don't either at the minute! we are seeing them actually get better in front of our eyes, it's great

the other stuff... oof, I don't know what pecco's prime will end up being - remember, actually he's low key already edging out of title-winning age. he's now 27. this century, only two riders have won titles when they were older than 26 - valentino twice and jorge once. obviously, that's partly happenstance, and you don't suddenly get struck down by 'being washed' lightning when you turn 27... plus on the flip side, I also think the fact that pecco has only reached his prime relatively recently means he could have quite a few more years to go. who knows! who knows if marc being increasingly more breakable becomes a big factor! recovering from injuries gets tougher the older you get and the more knocks you've taken! on the other point, the ducati is a bike pecco knows very very well and has a lot of time riding... but broadly speaking I do trust marc with a year's worth of experience get as much out of that bike as he ever will. just the fuck you talent again. we don't know what that performance level looks like, but I don't think it'll be a question of familiarity any more at that stage

so where does that all leave us? do I really want to be making motogp predictions this far in advance? yeah, sure. if I had to put money on it, I'd still back marc, I think? but I really do hope we get a proper fight, and I really do think we might! I'm far from convinced in writing off pecco. basically *grabs the crystal ball, aka checks the races we've literally just watched* let's say pecco absolutely dogwalks the field at a few circuits. like maybe a mugello, an assen, a cute qatar, even a catalunya now he's faced down his demons (though maybe jorge on that aprilia goes bye bye at montmelo). then give marc his races where he laps the field twice in cota and sachsenring. and we're going to get a few classic duels, for the fans. if those duels happen at the mugello's and catalunya's of this world, pecco's might be in deep shit. if they happen at the misano's and aragon's and maybe even jerez's, we can get something going. they both have at least one silly early season crash (also kinda tradition for marc outside of his peak peak seasons lbr) and everyone gets to call pecco a bottler and crank out the good ol' crashquez. and then hopefully we can massage those numbers enough that pecco isn't crashing three times to marc's one and we actually get a proper title fight. and hopefully they don't get injured too badly. I've said this before, but I could easily see a title fight where pecco wins most of the big duels but his inconsistencies let him down. if his bad days are p3's, however, or if marc himself is a bit flaky at times, then we're suddenly having a very different conversation (also don't feel that comfortable in writing off aprilia/ktm and their respective star riders, especially in year two of the factory ducati partnership)

one thing about pecco (that you do also bring up anon)... if there's one trait in his competitive makeup that most reminds me of marc, it's his resilience. he's very good at bouncing back, he's very good at dealing with adversity, a lot of the times he's at his best when he's under ridiculous amounts of pressure... if anything, he's worse when he has reason to feel confident. it comes through both in what a class defensive rider he is and how good he is at dealing with title fight pressure. if there is ever a time where he mentally gets his act together at the very start of the season, surely it's going to be when he has the famous marc marquez in his garage. if that doesn't do it, literally nothing ever will. and listen, knowing marc will try to mess with you isn't quite the same as being able to stop him from messing with you. wanting to maintain harmony doesn't mean your chances of maintaining harmony are necessarily great. but... you know, pecco got his first ever win by defending against marc lap after lap, facing essentially the most stressful situation imaginable with the 93 on his tail. marc made him a better rider that day. marc might make him a better rider next year too... you never know

[raystimeatportia]

i think miguel yelling was scarier than literally everything else ive seen in this game so far

[starmocha]

So the preview of the new theme song uses imagery of the guys' myths, including Sylus'. Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne, I think we are all fairly familiar with, but since Sylus is not released yet, there are a lot of speculations about what kind of tragic past he and MC shared. Let's try to break it down. Or make it more confusing. 🫠

Interestingly, before the "tragedy" we see their wrists are bounded together by a red thread.....perhaps....the Red Thread of Fate? As the saying goes, rough paraphrasing on my part: Two lovers, regardless of time, place, and circumstances, are destined to be together, connected by a single red thread. The red thread may twist and tangle, but it may never break.

However, as we can see in the video, Sylus and MC's thread does break, and unlike in the traditional belief, their thread is wrapped around their wrists and not fingers. As the thread breaks, we also see Sylus behind bars. Imprisonment? A crime?

Speaking of wrists, another thing I've noticed with Sylus' trailers is that it involves handcuffs a lot, which seems more significant now in light of this preview.

Especially since we see him also breaking them so easily.

I kind of made a passing joke in the tags of a previous post that Sylus' upcoming chapters carry shades of the Greek myth with Hades and Persephone, but perhaps I may not be too far off?

Just take a look at this wide view of the scene of Sylus and MC separated:

The N109 Zone is shown during the night with a bright red moon, giving a feeling reminiscent of the Underworld ruled by Hades. Note how it looks like Sylus is behind bars, a prison, if you will. In Greek mythology, Hades was tasked with ruling the Underworld, not by his choice, but the wills of others (so in a sense: trapped). Could this mean that perhaps Sylus has no desire to be the leader of Onychinus? Could he be bounded there against his will?

Meanwhile, MC is shown on the side of light. If we compare her to Persephone, she is on the surface world with other people. But from the preview, it looks like she is abducted and taken to the N109 Zone, much like Persephone was abducted and taken to the Underworld to be Hades' bride.

(Brief unserious interlude, because I want to spread my Hades/Persephone agenda:

Sylus is the Hades to MC's Persephone

The dark to her light

He is feared by everyone except her.

He'll let her get away with everything (covering him in silly band-aids, poking him in the side) because he adores her.

If anything happens to her, the world will feel his wrath.

He embodies the feeling of "if anything happens to her, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself."

In short, scary leader is big softie for his wifey and I am willing to die on this hill

OK. End interlude.)

Also, um... 😭

Bringing up the theory that Sylus is trapped? The Beast is trapped in the castle because of the curse by an enchantress. I seriously couldn't get this comparison out of my mind when I saw the dancing scene in the trailer, so it feels appropriate to bring it up here.

Perhaps like the Beast initially, Sylus does display a very dominating and aggressive temperament, but then in his 5* memory, Captivating Flavor, he seems more approachable, so perhaps we will soften him over time?

Now...since Infold had the audacity to drop that trailer while I was writing this, here is another example of them going with the trapped/caged/bounded theory (there is also an image of a bear trap earlier, but I'm at my 10-pic limit, so the cage seems more obvious (and aesthetically pleasing lol)

So could Sylus be trapped in the same way as the Foreseer is trapped within the Tower? But unlike the Foreseer, Sylus is always trying to break free from his chains. Circling back to his myth, could it be that his tie with MC was broken...by him? Perhaps out of a sense of protection? For her sake?

In Beauty and the Beast, the Beast was willing to let Belle go, to be killed by Gaston, to succumb to the curse, all for the sake of Belle's happiness and freedom.

In the myth of Hades and Persephone, Persephone was allowed to leave the Underworld to return to her mother for half a year, but since she ate a few pomegranate seeds, food from the Underworld, she was also bounded to return to the Underworld for the other half to be with her husband. Each year, the cycle returns. Come spring, Hades must let his beloved wife leave him for half a year, and there's nothing he can do to change it.

Bonus Greek myth tidbit: the crow plays a significant part in a myth involving the sun god Apollo, where it acts as a messenger for him. The crow, once white, was burned and turned black, as retribution for telling the truth (revealing an affair) that led to Apollo killing his lover.

So, let's recap real quick the symbolism we have seen. 🤔

Handcuffs: bounded

Bars: imprisonment

Bear trap (couldn't include the pic, but it's there, trust me): caught, trapped

Birdcage: trapped, caged

The crow: a messenger; punished for revealing the truth (so, punishment)

So, gathering my random little thoughts...

Theory 1: Sylus and MC must have been destined lovers in a past life, but due to whatever conflict, Sylus decided to break his bond with her for her protection and accept any punishment that comes with it, which could mean to be ruler of a place he has no desire for, an imprisonment of sort.

Theory 2: Destined lovers, but perhaps a third party interfered out of jealousy or spite. Could Sylus have been caught and framed of a crime and been literally imprisoned, thus forcing him and MC to separate?

Something to this effect, I think, from working with the crumbs I've gathered. It's also almost midnight as of the time of writing this, so my brain is feeling loopy now (also no thanks to that Sylus trailer that popped up while I was writing this 💀)

Anyhoo, make of all of this as you will. My Hades/Persephone agenda will persist.

[spookysteddie]

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it. 

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees. 

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted. 

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous. 

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!” 

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?” 

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.” 

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers. 

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.” 

… 

You should’ve changed your mind. 

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you. 

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time. 

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face. 

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands. 

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long. 

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it. 

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-” 

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.” 

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa. 

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!” 

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels. 

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?” 

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus. 

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus. 

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually. 

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts. 

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job. 

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that.  The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs. 

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.” 

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you. 

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.” 

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?” 

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was. 

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.” 

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?” 

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen. 

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again. 

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.   

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet. 

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening. 

Photos are fine. 

Everyone must be tagged. 

Nothing negative. 

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar. 

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines. 

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?” 

You nod, “y-yeah of course.” 

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over. 

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer. 

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.” 

… 

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more. 

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason. 

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.” 

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something? 

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes. 

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there! 

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.” 

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured. 

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.” 

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not? 

“‘Precious babies?’” 

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.” 

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne. 

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him. 

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan. 

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.” 

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”  

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.” 

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close. 

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.” 

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?” 

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.” 

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?” 

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.” 

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent. 

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…” 

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?” 

So, you do. 

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name. 

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times. 

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos. 

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music. 

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.” 

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care. 

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back. 

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him. 

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him. 

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.” 

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.” 

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you. 

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes. 

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.” 

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?” 

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.” 

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top. 

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you. 

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right? 

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center. 

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone. 

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid. 

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.” 

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.” 

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans. 

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.”  He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers. 

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?” 

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous. 

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.” 

“V-very.” 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!” 

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.” 

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.” 

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.” 

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft” 

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it. 

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.” 

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?” 

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.” 

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.” 

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?” 

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it. 

“Oh god! Please.” 

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.” 

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’ 

“And now… we wait.”

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | KISS CAM PART 2

SUM. : even though yours and james's relationship is public, his jealous streak continues

G. : fluff ; modern au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; viral sports couple ; fans love you together ; protective james ; jealous james ; you're his ; he's yours ; everyone should know this by now ; heated kiss

LENGTH : 1.9k

PART 1

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Now that your relationship with James was made public, he’s been more open to showing how much he adores you on the rink. You never miss any of his games and he makes a point of visiting your side of the rink during opening warm ups for a kiss through the glass. It’s the same one you gave him when your relationship first became public, where you kiss your fingers and press them against the glass where his lips are directly behind. Being the goof ball he is, James makes a show of puckering his lips and making a kiss sound every single time and, although you feel incredibly embarrassed by it, you just fall even harder for him each time. Your rising fans and shippers are very much the same over your relationship, so supportive and ‘oooo’-ing and ‘ahhh’-ing behind you from every interaction. 

During every intermission as well, James would come over to interact with you through the glass, whether to draw a heart on the divider or just wanting to get your attention with his puppy-love eyes. And all exchanges always end the same way, by James getting pulled away from the back of his collar by his teammates. 

It’s pretty obvious how in love the two of you were with each other and you’ve become a viral sports couple in the media. The fans adore your dynamic, dubbing James the cheeky loverboy and you the shy sweetheart, which were pretty accurate titles. Their support and love for your relationship made you wonder why you both were so worried about becoming public in the first place, granted there were a few bad eggs here and there but the majority accepted your relationship and you couldn’t be happier. However, you do wonder whether the reason why your relationship became public added to that positive reception or not. 

The moment James came over and claimed you as ‘his girl’, it went viral on social media. Many people reported on the incident, made multiple edits of it and some even scoured through videos of past games James played in to try and spot you in the crowd, just to speculate on how long you’ve been together. With all of that, the two of you quickly overtook some of the current famous celebrity couples in popularity. It was quite a romantic way of announcing your relationship, especially when James had the reputation of being the playful goofball of the team through interviews and such; seeing him get aggressive outside of the sport was surprising.

It didn’t help that, on one of your spontaneous dates with James was clipped by Sirius and sent circulating everywhere online. 

James had asked for access to the rink so he could practice some moves in his free time and you tagged along with lunch whilst Sirius and Remus came for company and fun. Soon enough, it turned into you and James just having fun on the ice. You’re a clumsy, first-born fawn on skates but James was always there to steady you with his sturdy frame and strong arms so you had more fun skating than you typically would on your own. The two of you were giggling and joking about, just being the sweet couple that were and being so incredibly cute that Sirius couldn’t find it in himself to tease you two about it. Instead, Sirius merely captured the moment James lifted you in his arms - the typical princess cary - and took you for a lap around the ice on video and posted it on his instagram story. There was no audio to overshadow the laughter you and James shared before you cupped his cheek and kissed him deeply. The lighting, the moment and the chemistry between you two couldn’t be denied and you went viral again. It was a lot of attention, mostly good but some bad too. 

Trust Sirius to give the fans what they want, seeing as how you and James still try to stay private about your relationship on social media. It wasn’t too much of an issue though since he always asked before posting anything, this particular post though, was the only exception. 

Nevertheless, you couldn’t be happier because, now, you can freely support your hard working boyfriend without having to hide under baggy hoodies. Sometimes you dressed up in a cute dress, sometimes you dressed down into one of James’s spare jerseys, proudly showcasing his name and number. It’s a secret but he loves it most when you wear his jersey. It’s also a secret that you wear his jersey whenever you want him to take you home early with no plans of leaving the bed for the night and most of the following morning. He treats you so well. 

In this particular game, you had made something special for James to wish him more luck and comfort. It wasn’t much but you wanted him to have something that’ll remind him you were always close by. You also wanted to give him a real good luck kiss before the pre-game warm ups started. James had expressed to you the night before that his nerves were more sensitive than usual because the team they were up against were quite formidable. He knew it, his team knew it and the fans knew it so the seats were packed for the game tonight - it was nerve-wracking. Tonight would be the perfect time to give him the gift.    

On the way to the locker rooms behind the rink, you were a little unsure of which changing room James was in because you wanted this to be a surprise and didn’t ask for any further information. 

“Oh, hello there,” A man with a black and yellow jersey greets you as he walks out the locker room door you were contemplating knocking on or not, previously unsure of which team was in which but immediately went warm in the cheeks upon realising the mix up, “how did you get down here, pretty lady?” he flirts, making your breath stutter. It didn’t feel right for any other guy to address you so endearingly if they weren’t your James.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly regain yourself and clutch your small present in your hand, “I mistook which locker room to go to,”

“No worries,” he leans down in an effort to level with your height and meet your eyes more directly, “but I am a little disappointed that you aren’t here to see m-” he’s cut off when you catch a glimpse of James over his shoulder and run the distance to his figure outside the locker room further down the hall. 

“James!” you run into his arms with a grin, completely forgetting the man you had just encountered, who was now in a silent death-stare exchange with your boyfriend. Running up to him, you miss James muttering something under his breath, eyeing the figure past your own. 

“Number five…”

“Look James, I made this for you,” you present the gift, “for good luck,” the excitement in your voice gradually fades with the influence of your bashfulness. 

James kept the opposing player, who had not left yet, in his peripheral as he turned his attention to the soft face towel you were offering him. His heart swells when, in the corner, he spots neat stitches of yours and his initials surrounded by cutely embroidered hearts. You’re really so cute, he can’t fathom how he ever got so lucky. His heart softens further when he takes in your timid but adorable form, looking up at him with curious eyes, gauging his reaction. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” James says, his voice purring more than usual. He has full confidence that despite the opposing player displaying clear interest in you, never leaving and still eyeing up your form, James knows that you will always be his and him, you. Your focused eyes solely trained on him, your sweet smile only for him to see and your cute way of dressing only for him to undress later, it’s all for him and it’s all he needs to know that you are his forever, “I love it,”

“Reall-” he cuts off your excitement by pressing his lips against yours, throwing your gift to rest on his shoulder so he can have both his hands free to trace your silhouette down to your cute butt and give a possessive squeeze. Like clockwork, you squeal into his lips and give perfect access for his tongue to ravish yours. It’s a very heated and possessive display. James wants everyone who sees you two to know that he’s the only one who can have you like this and you’re the only one who can make him like this.  

Lost in each other, time quickly passes and when you two eventually pull away, the other player is gone. Good riddance, James scoffs in his head, his telling smirk giving away his thoughts. You could see it all. Being his girlfriend, you knew exactly why James behaved like that but you weren’t complaining; you got one hell of a kiss out of it and there was no violence, nobody was hurt. What he needed was for you to anchor him. And you did, by gently taking your gifted face towel off his shoulder and pressing it to the perimeter of his face. 

No words needed to be spoken, James could see it all in your eyes. You knew him too well to let his actions slip past like that, however, knowing that your response was only to reassure him with a tender touch and loving actions rather than berate him, his love for you grew even more. He loves you so much. Soft and with a comforting ache in his chest, James hugs you and lifts you off the floor. He tucks his face into your neck and whispers his apology into your skin.  

“I’m sorry…I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asks, face still nuzzling your neck as you bury your own into his unruly, dark curls. 

“You didn’t hurt me, Jamie…”

“Good…I’m sorry for being so forceful and…possessive,” still in his arms and with your feet off the floor, he gives you a small squeeze.

“...I love you,” was your only reply; your own way of forgiving him.

“God…” James sighs dreamily, pulling back to and press a tender kiss onto your lips, “I love you more,”

You giggle and kiss him again, “I love you most,”

“Impossible,”

When the game finally started that night and you had properly kissed your boyfriend ‘good luck’, James became a prominent instigator on the ice. His plays were more violent and aggressive, especially to a particular player wearing the number five. It was pretty bad and you were getting worried, not just for James but for the other team’s number five. 

Half time comes and James is seen getting a visible talk down from the coach, there was tension in the air but the excitement for the game still too precedence, shaking the air with an infectious vibration. Before the game starts its second half, James makes a quick visit to your front seat for his usual kiss past the glass. This time, however, he wasn’t being a goofball and worried you but his tense figure visibly relaxed after the pseudo kiss, much to your relief. The second half of the game, he wasn’t as violent but became the top scorer, earning point after point after point.

Suffice to say, James’s team was the clear winner and you had much to celebrate his victory on the ice in the bedroom.  

NAVI.

A/N : this was one of my unexpectedly really popular timestamps, thank you all for the support! hopefully you darlings like this addition just as much as the first. i've taken the liberty of adding additional tags who expressed their interest in the first timestamp if you lovelies don't mind

TAGLIST : @fredweasleysjumper @ghostgardn @melinajenkins @astonishment; @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @loveltdoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @diputy @taytaylala12 @its-sappho-biotch @hiya-itsamber @arctvrvs @lilmaymayy @callisto00 @crying-on-the-floor @yrluvjane @neeezza101

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[pan-problemed]

The Radio and the Press

tags ; alastor x reader, platonic, human!alastor, human!reader, gn!reader

synopsis ; the radio-press wars were in full swing, and you were a loyal journalist. your best friend and supposed rival was alastor, a radiant radio host whom was hiding a dark secret - one that you were oblivious to.

a/n ; this is not betad, so apologies for any errors! this is also my first time writing alastor, so i'm still trying to learn how to write him. i tried to make this as inclusive as possible! let me know if there are any errors or issues, i'm always happy to learn! also, lmk if i should continue this! i have a lot of ideas for this au ^^

cross posted to ao3

“I appreciate your time, Mister Marston.” You said as you tucked your pen behind your ear and pocketed your notebook. “I look forward to readin’ your future works.”

Mister Marston gave you a reserved smile, following you out of his kitchen and into the mudroom, politely helping you shrug on your coat. “You sure y’can walk home by yourself?” He asked. “Not tryin’ to be rude, but it's gettin’ late, and I'm sure you've heard about those killin’s.”

“I'll be quite alright, but I appreciate the concern. I've got someone waitin’ for me.” You smiled back and shook his hand again, stepping out through the screen door. “Keep yourself safe, Mister Marston.”

“You too.” You could feel his eyes on you as you trotted down the street, going over the interview in your head, mentally picking out what would and wouldn't be useful for the article you'd be writing on him.

You made your way back to the office, collecting your things for the night, squinting at your watch as you locked the doors. Alastor would be wrapping up soon, perhaps you’d be able to beat him out of the station.

Alastor - your best friend, your partner in crime, your other half. A brilliant man with a bright smile, always so thoughtful and caring, the man whom you spent most of your free time with. The two of you were practically attached to hip, and when one of you went out the other wasn’t far behind. You knew people turned their heads and speculated on the nature of your relationship behind closed doors, but you didn’t really care. The two of you were perfectly happy where you were.

Sure enough, you made it to the little cafe under his station with a few minutes to spare, sitting down at one of the empty tables and squinting at your notes as you waited, studying your frantic scribbles and notes. Your parents used to tease you on your messy handwriting, calling it ‘chicken scratch’ - but you called it efficient.

You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft clicking of his heels on concrete, signalling his approach. He leaned over you, peering at your notes over your shoulder.

“I really don’t know how you can read that.” He hummed thoughtfully, eyes sparkling in mischeif.

“It’s in code, so annoying radio hosts don’t try to steal my news.” You sniffed, grinning as you tilted your head and angled your notebook so he couldn’t see. “Honestly. Always trying to bank off of the success of better mediums.”

He grinned as he stepped away, circling around the table and sitting across from you. “Ah, but radio is the future, my dear. Soon your medium will be all but extinct!”

You scoffed. “Newspapers are going nowhere - they’re timeless. You’re just jealous, because when all’s said and done no one’s going to remember your silly broadcasts.”

You were a journalist - and a good one at that, despite the sidelong looks people would give you constantly - working for the a small newspaper operating out of New Orleans. Alastor was a radio host, and (depending on your ask) your sworn enemy. You had heard of the fighting between radio and press, and decided to do your part by taking on Alastor as a rival. The two of you bickered constantly over the better medium, though it was all in good fun, as neither of you held any ill will towards each other. You recognized the power of the radio, and he the papers - but you took great delight in your constant back and forth.

“How was the interview?” He asked as he stood, you pocketing your notebook and stepping in beside him.

You answered, the conversation then shifting to your analysis of his works, to other interesting stories you had read. He was a wonderful conversationalist, and the two of you always found talking so easy, so natural.

The sun had set completely by the time you arrived at his little home, making your way to the kitchen as he rolled up his sleeves and you turned on the radio. You practically lived at his place, only returning home to sleep and on the days he was busy. The only thing preventing you from moving in together was his privacy and the eyebrows it would raise. Still, you had a routine of dinner at his place (which he always made), and in exchange you would help with general maintence and housekeeping.

“[y/n], dear, the bathroom’s been giving me trouble again.” He told you as he began prepping dinner. “Would you take a gander?

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the kitchen table. “I just replaced those pipes. At this point I’m starting to suspect you’re doing this on purpose.”

He smiled at you, opening the cabinets under the sink which unofficially became your toolshed. Originally, the tools lived in the shed behind his home, but he didn’t like you going in and was tired of stopping his work to retrieve them for you. You never questioned it, despite Alastor’s natural charisma and social nature you knew he could be private when it came to his home and life. He would allow you in when he was ready, just like he had for personal rooms like his bedroom or study.

“On purpose? Now why would I do that?” He teased, voice slightly sing-song as he handed you your toolbox. “Just making sure you have a backup plan for when the papers collapse.”

“In your dreams.” You retorted, the sound of his vivacious laughter following you as you went to work on his bathroom.

He retrieved you about 40 minutes later for dinner, a delicious Red Beans and Rice, and joined him in cleaning and an impromptu dance session in the sitting room.

He walked you home as he always did - the two of you lived fairly close to one another, preferring to live in the outskirts of New Orleans. He lived there for hunting freedom, being a city boy a heart, and you lived there for the relative familiarity of the nearby woods. You had grown up in dense trees and sprawling fields, the city still something of an alien world to you, and preferred to keep nature within reach.

You said your goodbyes under the light of your porch, the conversation going rougly the same as it always did - thanking him for dinner and walking you home, reminding him to keep safe, him reminding you that he was perfectly capable, and the promise to see each other tomorrow.

It had been like that for two or so years now, and you wished for it to continue like that for the rest of your lives, as unrealistic as it may be.

Two months later, your life would be ripped to shreds by the police and your dearest radio host, but for now, you could live in simple bliss and familiarity.

taglist ; (let me know if you'd like to be added! requests and anons are also welcome) @greenteaanon @chewbrry

[unknownteapot]

2 Truths 1 Lie : SMOSHBLR EDITION 

y’all ive been thinking about this one for a while lol- after the ‘smoshblr assumptions’ game was received so well i was like we haaaave to do another one- it brings the fandom so much closer and is honestly such a good way to get to know moots better <3

SO. without further ado- I present to you SMOSHBLR’s 2 Truths 1 Lie organised by yours truly with some help from kind friends @xxsuicidalravenxx & @babychosen <3 

Here’s how you play:

Rb this post with ‘#i’m in’ so i can keep track of who’s playing

Between the hours of 9:00 am EST - 12:00 (noon) EST on Wed. June 5th (check what time that would be in your area) post a 1-day poll to your blog with 3 facts about yourself (the reason it’s a specific time is so we don’t miss any/have polls end at different times and make the game an endless loop )

Self-explanatory here, 1 of the facts should be completely false and the other two should be true.

IMPORTANT: PLEASE. please. do NOT give away personal information/intimate life details that could identify you. despite how awesome smoshblr is, the internet is still a scary place.

You can tag the poll whatever you’d like but please include #smoshblrtwotruths somewhere in the tags so i can rb it ;)

After your poll is up- you now have 24h to go on the #smoshblrtwotruths tag and have fun speculating on other’s facts in the replies of their posts and

VOTE FOR THE OPTION YOU THINK THEIR 1 LIE IS!!

You can ask others questions about their facts to help verify their stories via asks or replies on their polls, but keep in mind, just like in smosh’s real game version, they could be lying ;)

Be silly, be goofy, be kind.

After the polls end (sometime on Thursday the 6th), rb your poll explaining what the truths and lies actually were so we can see if we were right!!

At the end (Friday 7th) i’ll make a masterlist of all the truths & lies so we can clearly see who the winners were <3

AWARDS:

🎩 The Lesbian Wonkas 🍭 (The Winners)- people whose lie does NOT get found by collecting the most votes on the poll- will get a personalised playlist based on the vibes their tumblr gives off straight from my chaotic ass spotify <3 

🐦‍⬛ The Birds of The Amazönê 🚬 (The Losers)- the losers will get sprayed with water a.k.a an influx of asks with nothing but 💦🔫💦🔫💦🔫💦🔫 in them (by participating in the game, you consent to this so don’t be annoyed at me. get sprayed, bestie)

okay. that’s it. please reply or send asks if the rules are unclear!! i’d suggest scheduling ur 2 Truths 1 Lie poll as soon as you have your facts so it can go up during the mentioned time with all the other polls and you don’t have to worry about posting it 🫶🏻

i’m tagging some moots so they know this is happening and just bc they’re awesome @lilac-hecox @sage-lights @japhan2024 @baflegacy @shesmore-shoebill feel free to tag your friends too <3

Let’s get truthing and lying, smoshblr!!!

[wintfleur]

Pictures that remind you of Stella and Juraj

౨ৎ pictures that remind me of stella and juraj

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( hi tysm for sending in the request !!! So sorry it took so long I just wasn’t really get any inspiration for this at first, but I loved making it. I hope you enjoy it !! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ stella and juraj’s photo gallery ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

.❀。they are the king and queen of taking faceless pictures! No one knew about there kinda relationship as it was happening besides Cole, Luke, lily and Carmen. They wanted to keep it a secret and didn’t want to risk her other two brothers finding out about them. Stella was a little cheeky and posted a few pictures, including this one, and Quinn, Trevor and Jack would not stop blowing up her phone asking who it is !!! 📸 by Stella Hughes

.❀。Stella loved juraj’s hands so muchhh, she loved how small hers were compared to his, and so did he !!! She took quite a lot of pictures of them comparing each others hand sizes, Juraj always teasing her and calling her itty bitty ( he was obsessed with saying it when Stella taught him and Stella thinks it’s adorable how he pronounces it ) 📸 by stella hughes

.❀。they spent a lot of time in juraj’s apartment, they didn’t want to get caught and they just enjoyed being alone and not having to hide. Stella loves to bake and to the best of his abilities he tried to shower her a few Slovak recipes. The time they spent in the kitchen was always filled with laughter and lots of kisses.

.❀。juraj loves Stella and her bows, loving how she always found a away to incorporate them into her outfits or anything really. This photo was taken when Stella joined Cole to a dinner with some of his teammates, and Cole being the best person he is, had Stella sit between him and juraj. It was a great night, he had his hand on her thigh most of the night. He had texted her and said “if only it was the two of us, it would be a perfect date” 📸 by Juraj Slafkovsky

.❀。stella was filming a YouTube video of her coming to visit Cole and going sightseeing seeing in Quebec, Stella was doing a small little haul of the cute trinkets she had gotten and juraj came and kissed her, the two of them were kissing for a while until Stella pulled away with a gasp, remembering that she was still filming. She had some cutting to do, but she did save the video and jokingly sent it to juraj with a “when you miss me 💋”

.❀。again the king and queen of faceless pictures, juraj accidentally posted this picture on his instagram story but he quickly deleted it, but it was too late fans had tooo screenshots and spread it. Thankfully you can’t tell that it’s Stella, but fans still speculate and lots of people still belive that they were together. They are right but neither of them has said anything about that, ignoring the speculation. This picture was taken when they stayed at a couple and had there own little vacation 📸 by Juraj slafkovsky

.❀。juraj was literally her personal bear, she could always just cuddle up to him and squeeze him, he was always warm and she was always cold so he always would warm her up. Stella just clings to him, holding onto him, juraj loves it, loving the feeling of her pressed up against him 📸 by Cole Caufield

.❀。juraj is big and Stella is tiny compared to him, juraj loved being able to just pick stella up and hold him in his arms, or how well she fit snuggled up into him. Stella loved how safe she felt in his warm embrace. 📸 by Stella Hughes

.❀。sadly there kinda relationship was mostly long distance when Stella couldn’t come up to visit. They would spend hours and I mean hours on the phone together, even falling asleep on call, and neither one of them wanted to hang up when they notice the other had fallen asleep. She had an album of all the pictures/ screenshots she took while they were on call, and he still has his. 📸 by Juraj slafkovsky

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( dude Stella juraj were so cute I can’t :( notice how Stella is was, had, loved. And juraj is, is, has, loves 😭 )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @prettyboywoll @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[wing-ed-thing]

Team Dinner! (Might Guy x Reader)

Synopsis: After a mission well done, you and Gai have his team over for dinner. It should be noted that Gai has never cooked (successfully) before.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: @kakashiswilloffire Kitchen Antics, Reader is Picked Up, Fluff, Wholesome

You weren’t exactly sure when Gai proposed it, but you had gone with him to the market and marked your calendar for dinner nonetheless. You and Tenten must have had a similar thought as you leaned over Gai’s kitchen counter, brows in various forms of furrowed as Gai worked the cutting board. 

You caught her looking at you in your peripheral and glanced her way to meet her confused stare. Tenten bounced from the cutting board and back to you. All you could offer her was a confused shrug and speculative dip of your lip. She turned her attention back to her teacher, concerned.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do to help, Gai-sensei?” she asked, eyes glued to Gai’s fast-moving kitchen knife. He made short work of a squash, the blade hitting the wood block with a slam sudden enough to make Tenten flinch. Gai shook his head.

“No, no. No guest of mine is being put to work in the kitchen!” His eyes closed as he grinned, throwing two thumbs up and his kitchen knife into the air. You and Tenten shouted simultaneously, both instinctively reaching out in some way or another to catch the knife before Gai could. With a theatric twirl, he turned and caught the knife by the blade between his fingers. You let out a deep sigh. Tenten looked like she was about to pass out. You poured her more sparking juice and nudged the glass into her hand. 

“Where do you want the onions, Gai-sensei?!” Lee spun around from his station at the opposite counter, his eyes puffy and red. He wiped his face against his shoulder. Your lip curled into a slight pout.

You took a clean napkin in your hand, maneuvering around Gai with a light touch on his lower back. He hardly noticed, continuing to speak and wiggle around as he usually did. Lee, always one to wear his emotions freely, continued to cry. He, too, barely acknowledged you even as you gently dapped his free-flowing tears. 

A gentle sound came from the front door. Lee’s head shot up just in time for one of his tears to miss the food.

“Neji!”

“Ah, that must be young Neji!” Gai bellowed. 

You slipped the napkin under Lee’s thumb, once again moving around the chaos to answer the door. Sure enough, Neji stood on your doorstep. He wore his usual pout, which you were sure stemmed from a reluctance even to be there. Gai had always been an acquired taste, and Neji was a moody teenage boy, so you couldn’t say you necessarily blamed him. 

“Hey, Neji, it’s good to see you.” He gave a small grunt of acknowledgment as he walked through the door you held open for him. As he stepped into the entryway, the small box hidden under a fold of fabric at his waist didn’t escape your notice. You closed the door behind him as you spoke discretely, “You know, I can put that in the fridge for you.”

Neji froze on the spot. While his blank expression gave nothing away, his relative demeanor told you all you needed to know. He turned, giving you a once over as he tried to decipher any hint of disappointment from you. 

“I brought one, too, if it makes you feel any better,” Tenten chimed in. She hopped up on an adjacent couch, kneeling on the cushions to rest her elbows on the back pillow. “I think the only one who didn’t bring one was Lee.” You rubbed at the back of your neck with a bashful smile. 

“Kinda embarrassing that he has more trust in Gai’s cooking than I do. He’s never made a meal like this, and given how the last ones went…”

Neji frowned—although not by much more than usual. Tenten grimaced at the memory.

“Granted, I think we can all agree that Lee has a little too much faith.” Neji didn’t meet your eye as he sheepishly surrendered his backup dinner to you. You tucked it discretely into your sleeve as he took to scowling at Tenten.

“It actually looks like he’s doing a good job tonight,” you offered. “I told Tenten that if it ends up a disaster, I’ll just give these back to you and pretend they’re leftovers I found in the fridge.” Neji’s brow furrowed. 

“You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, yeah, Gai won’t even bat an eye—” The pleasant smell must have hit you all at the same time. You stopped talking, and all three of you took a deep inhale. Dazed by the scent, you continued, “Uh, yeah, they seem to be doing pretty well there. It doesn’t seem like that will be an issue.”

“Yeah, no, Sensei is surprisingly competent in the kitchen,” Tenten whispered, only to receive a scoff from Neji in return. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Sure enough, Neji did see it. The three of you sat at the counter as Gai and Lee cooked on the opposite side, putting on an oddly fascinating show. You poured Neji a sparkling juice. Your emergency bentos were long forgotten. 

“I would pay money to see this,” Tenten said, entranced as she dug into the chips and dip you had set out on the counter. She held one half of the tray, and you supported the other. “I have never seen curry do that before.” You shook your head slowly in disbelief.

“Out of the pot, in the air, and back into the pot. Like a cartoon.” You ate another chip. “Dare I say it’s art?” Neji scoffed.

“I don’t know about art. I’m still trying to figure out how someone uses the spine of a knife to clean a herring.” 

Gai cleaned his hands in the sink in front of you, and with a triumphant whip of his hand towel, he pronounced,

“Dinner is almost ready!” 

He struck a pose, and you tried not to laugh as you gave Tenten the rest of the chip tray. You cupped the side of Gai’s face, kissing his cheek before you attempted to move past him to grab plates to set the table. He didn’t let you, wrapping two muscular arms around your hips to spin you around the kitchen with a jolly laugh. 

“Gai!” 

“I will not let you down until you proclaim me House Husband… Extraordinaire!” You yelped as he gave you a light toss, catching you back in his arms as he lowered you into a dip as expertly as any ballroom dancer. You held your hand up to your forehead as if swooning.

“House Husband Extraordinaire, will you please allow me to set the table for your gourmet cuisine?” you declared dramatically, and only then did Gai allow you back on your feet. He spun you under his arm, but when you caught sight of the dinner table, you saw it was already set. Even the dishes that Gai had just cooked were already there.

Gai’s three students stood around the table, waiting patiently for you to join them, each of their expressions warm and sentimental. Lee was crying, blubbering something about a pure and loving relationship. 

You took your seats at the table.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The dinner menu consists of Team Gai's favorite foods: herring soba, curry, and sesame dumplings. Odd combination.

[chxrrylime]

❝ float on. ❞

Sorry I died again. Here's this.

Price x Alex x M!Reader ↪ 1626 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive Price, cis male dominant reader, cis male dominant Alex, first time subspace, unsafe sex, oral sex, rimming, anal sex, begging, handjobs, fingering, facefucking, crying, blindfolds, and undernegotiated kink.

Price is sat on the edge of the small bed, shoulders slouched, elbows on his knees and head hung low. He feels light and heavy all at once, body weighted down by the eternal ache in his muscles, head floating up above the clouds like static focus. 

He’s foggy, letting himself drift as he listens to the sounds of his partners moving about the room, cleaning up his messes—you were always cleaning up after him.

Not twenty minutes ago you’d urged him out of what gear hadn’t been returned to the armory, guiding him into the shower and scrubbing him clean. Washing away the dirt and dried blood. Clipping his fingernails, scrubbing the grime that remained from beneath them. Trimming his knotted and overgrown beard back to its presentable shape.

It wasn’t often he got like this. Loose, and pliant. It was something you’d tried to explain to him in the past, that hazy feeling. He might’ve laughed at you then. He doesn’t remember.

When he opens his tired eyes, it’s in response to the gentle hand he feels settle on the back of his neck, lightly scratching the strands there, making his skin buzz. His gaze settles hazily on the strip of black cloth in your other hand, eyes squinting in speculation.

There’s another hand on his knee, giving a light squeeze.

“How’re we doing?” Alex asks, voice quiet, like anything louder might pierce the static waves bouncing around Price’s mind.

“Mm, dunno,” Price murmurs, humming contentedly as you nuzzle beneath his chin. He bares his throat to give you better access, head lulling back as you begin to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of his neck, “pent up…”

“Yeah?” you whisper. 

You glance down to watch Alex’s hand slide up Price’s thigh, slipping over the half-hard bulge, massaging the Captain through his sweats and earning a hearty groan. 

“Alex—” Price moans softly, silenced by the blonds lips, a slow and hungry wet kiss as Price gently rolls his hips up into Alex’s strong hand. 

“Let us take care of you,” you say against his skin, trailing kisses down his neck, over his collarbones, lapping teasingly at his nipple before taking the pert bud into your mouth, suckling, admiring the choked noise Price makes, his chest jutting out against the stimulation.

Price fumbles for the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs you up for a kiss, panting and licking greedily into your mouth.

When you pull back, you hold up the blindfold, Price lazily locking eyes on it with furrowed brows.

“Trust us?” You ask, cupping his cheek with your free hand. Alex has moved his hand back to Price’s thigh, giving him space to think. Price’s eyelids flutter, swallowing thickly before he gives a shaky nod.

“Y-yeah,” he says, and then again, firmer, “yeah, alright.”

You’re gentle tying the fabric, only pulling it taut to make sure it sits snug. You notice out of the corner of your eye how Price’s hand scrambles to settle over Alex’s, squeezing his fingers as his vision’s taken from him. Alex upturns his palm, squeezing back.

“Gonna undress you, then get you laid back, alright?”

“Keep yer hands on me,” Price whispers, so faint you almost don’t hear it, “don’ go quiet.”

“Anything, baby,” you smile, even though he can’t see it. 

You and Alex both carefully undress Price, sliding off his sweats and boxers, then slowly maneuver him back onto the bed, passively narrating each step as you go, making sure Price’s head is propped up properly, another pillow shoved under his lower back. 

“Fuck,” Price breathes out, fingers clenching in the bedsheets as you all finally settle, you between his spread legs, thumbs rubbing circles on each of his narrow hips, and Alex kneeling to Price’s left, up by his head.

“Alright?” 

“I…” Price begins, voice raspy. He swallows again, before giving a slight nod. He realizes only moments later you and Alex are waiting for him to say more, “never… felt like this.”

“Too much?” Alex asks, running his fingers through Price’s hair, still slightly damp from the shower.

“S’a lot,” he responds honestly, “but I’m… I’m good. Feel… outta body.”

“Still wanna play?” You hum, spreading your fingers over his meaty thighs to squeeze the supple flesh.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, and you smirk at the slight twitch his cock gives as your nails rake through his pubes.

You make brief eye contact with Alex, who gives you a slight nod.

You waste little time, letting spit pool on your tongue before letting it dribble down onto Price’s cock, slicking the hot flesh as you take him in hand, lowering onto your stomach. Alex takes Price’s legs, holding him by the ankles to give you better access, making Price jolt and moan as he’s spread open for your tongue, lapping greedily at his furled rim.

You spear your tongue into his hole, stretching him around the wet muscle, occasionally moving up to suckle at his taint or nose at his balls, feeling how his thick cock pulses and twitches in your hand on each tightened upstroke. 

Alex lowers Price’s legs back down, his calves coming to rest on your shoulders as you shuffle back up. Price makes a noise dangerously akin to a whimper at the loss of your hand on his prick, the sound muffled by Alex’s lips as he leans down to tongue fuck his mouth.

You dribble lube onto your fingers, rubbing them together to heat the cool gel before pressing two digits into his tight ass. Alex swallows down Price’s moan, one hand gripped in the short cropped hair while the other holds Price’s jaw tight. 

Price’s own hands scrabble, unable to see and unsure entirely what he’s reaching for, alternating from the sheets to the pillows to Alex’s thighs and arms and head. 

You watch how Price’s hole sucks your fingers in, winking greedily around the digits, your focus only shifting when you hear a hiccup, looking up suddenly to see tears streaking from beneath the blindfold, dampening the already dark fabric as they trail down and get trapped in his beard. 

Alex has paused his assault, meer inches from Price’s face as the tight grip in the Captain’s hair turns to soft petting. 

Alex coos, shushing Price, kissing the older man’s cheekbones.

“Please,” Price chokes, his thighs shaking as he rocks down onto your fingers. His cock is swollen and angry red, leaking precum like a broken faucet, flexing and twitching against his furry tummy, “please.”

“You look so pretty,  baby,” you praise, removing your fingers to trail your lube slicked hand up to ever so slowly stroke his cock, “so beautiful.”

Price lets out a sob as your cock finally breaches him, pushing into the tight, wet depths of his gummy walls. His legs wrap tight around your waist, ankles locked together as he all but pulls you deeper into him with a desperate cry.

When you look up Alex has his cock out, his own sweats and boxers pushed beneath his balls just enough to free his aching erection. He gives himself a few quick strokes before gripping the base, his free hand guiding Price by his hair until the sticky tip brushes Price’s saliva and tear slick lips.

Price gives a tentative lick and then moans, opening his mouth eagerly at the familiar bittersweet taste of precum. Alex curses under his breath, dropping his chin to his chest as he stiltedly thrusts his hips into the wet heat of Price’s mouth. 

Price reaches out blindly, slapping at Alex’s sides until he finds the blond’s hips, tugging at him until Alex moves to straddle the Captain’s face. You groan at the site, pumping your cock faster into Price’s welcoming hole.

You can hear the slick sounds of Price’s mouth working around Alex’s girth, the wet gags each time Alex bullies his prick into Price’s eager throat. Price’s hands grasp Alex’s ass, squeezing the muscular globes, nails digging into the flesh to leave behind red crescent-shaped indents.

You grip Price’s slender hips bruisingly tight, pounding into him as hard as you can, the movements jostling both Price and the bed, pounding the frame against the wall as your balls slap against Price’s ass, the lude, wet sound of skin on skin reverberating alongside Price’s muffled, increasingly desperate moans.

You close your eyes, barely able to hear Alex’s murmured praises as he continues his assault on Price’s throat. 

And then a soft, growling groan from the blond as his hips stutter forward, emptying his potent load into Price’s mouth.

It’s Price’s cock kicking hard before he shoots thick white streaks all over his stomach that has you shouting out, burying to the hilt as you fill Price’s ass—Price, who just came untouched from having his throat cum in.

Alex unmounts, giving Price a moment to catch his breath before he's pressing a water bottle to Price’s lips, gently urging him to drink, which he does so in big, greedy gulps. 

His hole flutters and spasms around your softening cock, making you groan as you slowly slip free, your cum dribbling out soon after, staining the crisp bed sheets. 

You crawl up the bed as Alex caps the bottle and sets it on the nightstand, the both of you on either side of Price, pressed up against his sides as he comes down. You run a finger over the hem of the blindfold and Price’s hand gently catches your wrist.

“Want it on?” You ask, using your thumb to wipe away the tear trails as Price gives a shaky nod, turning to nuzzle his head against your neck, reaching blindly for Alex’s hand to pull the blond’s arm over his torso.

[createserenity]

Master List of My Fics and WIPs

Been meaning to do this for ages, so here we go. All titles link through to the fics on AO3. Sunlight In Your Smile (M, 12k - wip)

Aziraphale has to attend a family wedding and he may have told a bit of a white lie. Of course he doesn't actually have a boyfriend. So now he needs to find one and in despair he turns to an escort agency for help.

Waking Up With You (G, 1.6k - complete)

Crowley has just left the shop for the night and Aziraphale is locking the door when it hits him out of the blue. Why are they doing this? Why is Crowley leaving?

After six thousand years together and free from Heaven and Hell, Azirpahale realises they need to take the next step in their relationship. Fluffiness all round!

All The Pieces of You (E, 73k - wip)

Aziraphale had known he found Crowley attractive for a long time, but there was nothing wrong with that. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do? It was nothing more than that.

Except now Aziraphale knows what lust feels like and that might be a problem.

A mixture of smut, fluff and ridiculous historical adventures.

In The Beginning (E, 8.9k - complete)

In the beginning there was a garden and the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden decided that there are better things to do than stand around in the rain getting wet.

Shameless smut, in which Aziraphale and Crowley learn what all the fuss is about sex.

Better Than Today (E, 4k - complete)

Whenever they fucked Crowley said, “I love you.”

It would probably help if they talked about it, but somehow they just keep ending up having sex instead.

Smut with a fluffy ending.

Give In To Desire (E, 4.4k - complete)

Crawley hadn't actually meant for this to happen. He'd thought he'd tempt the angel into eating and the angel would maybe have a few bites and discover that it wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't expected to be setting himself up to be tempted into the sin of lust.

Just another fic speculating on what happened in the basement during the Job minisode, because you can never have too many of those, right?

A Day For Magic (T, 3.4k - complete)

In which there is a bench, a park and a coin, which leads to silliness and fluffiness all round.

Fic inspired by these kisses.

A Time of Wanting (T, <1k - complete)

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now. Short ficlet that's fluffy and happy, despite how the summary makes it seem. Also inspired by the kiss picture linked above.

Goodnight Angel (E, 14.4k - wip but also works as it is)

Post lockdown-phone-call fic.

Aziraphale had told him not to come over, but he was a demon and obviously he wasn't going to listen. Besides he was going out of his mind with boredom and going to see the angel was a much better idea than a long nap.

WIPs

Apart from my main wip All The Pieces of You I've also got a follow up to In The Beginning in the works and eventually I'll go back to Goodnight Angel as well. Apart from that I'm going to list my wips here and try to keep track of them with tags and get a bit better at posting about them. Some of these will probably never get written, especially since a few days ago there was only 12, then I scrapped one altogether taking it down to 11 and now somehow I'm up to 15. Too many ideas in my head and too many half writtten fics on my computer.

After The Swap

Blind date

Dance for Me

End Times

Entertain Me

Here's to the End Times (yep different to the above fic despite the similar working title)

It's You (This one is a one shot human AU and might be posted soon)

Run Away Together

Sunlight In Your Smile (I've started posting this finally!)

Lockdown Lifted

So You Can Take It Off (Desperately want to finish this because it's different to anything else I've written)

South Downs

University

Run Away Together (very much a working title!)

This Land of Ours (fits in the Pieces of You universe)

Waking Up With You (This is now done and posted!)

Job (This is finished and posted as Give In To Desire - linked above - although technically there are more chapters in the works)

[lemotmo]

I don't know if anyone has sent you anything about this so far but her ask box is a dumpster fire of desperation today. So if you've already seen it, feel free to ignore it. If you haven't seen it yet, enjoy the laugh 🤣🤣

Q.. Oh my god OS and RG are sexing up in real life and have forced the show's hand. How pathetic of them. Please be embarrassed.

Q. Ryan and Oliver are boning irl. Nothing like forcing their boss to write it into the show.

Q. Let's be honest no one is surprised that they're hooking up for real. But it's super gross to force your boss to write about it. Yikes.

A. I thought it was trolling. I legitimately thought this was a deliberate troll, but I have dozens of them. Dozens of them. So this is clearly the talking point you have received from your leader. And I have no idea what you all think this rumor is doing. Because what does starting this particular kind of rumor do for your guy? Which is what all of your nonsense is about, Tommy/Lou. This rumor does nothing for him. I know it started on Twitter, because of course, but what is your goal here? For everyone keeping discourse score:

1. At first you all were saying that Oliver and Ryan aren't actually friends they just pretend to be friends because the Buddie fans annoy them so much.

2. Then you said they are friends because they're jealous of Lou and were scheming to sabotage him.

3. Then it was they are teaming up against Lou to publicly show that they hang out simply to exclude him and make fun of him.

4. Now you've landed on they must be sleeping together for real.

This is all so ridiculous it doesn't deserve any kind of deep dive answer so I'm not going to give you one. What I will say is that you all just admitted in your asks that you see the Buddie signposting. So you played yourselves there. Congratulations. The second thing is I think you believe a rumor like this might make Oliver or Ryan uncomfortable enough that they will stop the show from going forward with the storyline. That won't happen. They've admitted to reading fanfiction. This won't embarrass or bother either one of them. Lastly, whether they are sleeping together or not, and they're definitely not, it would only be one more thing they've chosen to exclude Lou from doing with them so they would still be winning. Have the day you deserve, anons.

Oh my, those asks do reek of desperation. What on Earth? 0_°

Great answer Ali. I mean, there is not a lot you can say to asks about real people. You're right. This is ridiculous discourse and doesn't deserve any kind of deep dive answer.

That being said, can I just say though that the way you ended your post slapped so hard. LOL!!!

As for my opinion on this topic? Let me be frank here, I've seen this kind of 'talk' on Twitter as well. From both BT as Buddie fandom. People speculating on people's sexualities and/or whether or not certain actors are sleeping together or not, and it just feels kinda gross to me. People do what they want to do, but I tend to stay away from this kind of talk. I haven't seen a lot of it on Tumblr so far, which feels like a win.

Buck and Eddie are fictional people living in a fictional world. Whether or not we ship them has no consequences in the real world. But Ryan and Oliver are real people, living in the real world. Rumours about the topics I just mentioned above? They can and do have consequences in the real world.

Something to think about perhaps?

Anyway, thanks Nonny for dropping this in my inbox!

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[katyawriteswhump]

Never let me go (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18, Free Space--Hurt/Comfort. 

Steve’s really good at pretending he’s fixed—especially to himself—and decides he’s totally up for kinky fun with Eddie. Also part of my steve whump fic thread on ao3

WC: 922.

Rating: M.

CW: Mild kink and bondage, sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD, flashbacks. Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort. Trauma. Fluff, whump.

***

Eddie draws the tinsel garland around Steve’s arm, looping it loosely before dragging it tighter. Not too tight. Steve swallows hard, nerves fizzing. Eddie tethers Steve’s wrist to the bed frame behind his head with a loopy, hitchy knot.

“Where the heck did you learn—"

“My uncle. He’s worse than a billion scout leaders, I shit you not.” Eddie lazily kisses the tender underside of Steve’s wrist, beneath the knot, setting Steve’s pulse skittering. Eddie shifts his attention to Steve’s other hand. Steve has, without thinking, moved himself into place, ready to be tied. He’s happily drowning in Eddie’s gorgeous eyes, lapping up Eddie's hungry appreciation of him, till…

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Stevie?” 

“How many times, dude? I’m fine.” Steve slides his tongue around suddenly dry-feeling lips. “Tinsel is dangerous for cats and babies. I could literally snap this crap in half.”

“You could snap me in half.”

“I dunno. You’re crafty. And deceptively strong.” Steve tugs speculatively at the tinsel. It’s deceptively strong too, and the wire holding it together grooves into his flesh. Clearly breakable, though. If he wanted out.

He doesn’t.

When Eddie confessed a drunken desire to tie Steve to their bed, they’d both been apprehensive—given Steve’s “history,” with Soviets and throttling vines, and the rest of the shitshow. Using tinsel was Steve’s dumb, buzzed-out-of-his-skull idea.

Now, Eddie drags the tinsel across Steve’s bare chest, swirls it over his abs, raising goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s using black and silver tinsel. “So pretty against your skin,” he purrs. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, because the sensations… Gnng! So good! Also, kinda excruciating. Both too little contact, and too much.

Eddie trails the tinsel lower. Steve’s wearing his boxers, and he moans, whimpers—why isn’t he naked yet? Eddie’s fingers drift down Steve’s leg, and Steve flexes into Eddie’s hand. Eddie spreads Steve’s leg toward the bedpost then crouches beside.

Eddie’s hot breaths scorch his flesh. Steve’s breaths accelerate further. As he binds Steve’s ankle, Eddie’s brows knit in concentration. Why’s that super-hot? Steve’s gotten a semi already, and he’s no clue what Eddie’s gonna do next.

“I better be naked soon, Munson.” Eddie lightly pinches Steve’s inner thigh, a total blindside. “Ow!”

“Patience, Babe. Or I’ll start over with your ass upward.”

Steve smirks: “Only just thought of that, moron?”

“Haha, don’t be a brat. Takin’ this slow. Now, shhhh.”

Steve shudders, frets his lip. Eddie winds the last of the tinsel around Steve’s other leg. This is still fun—right?—and he trusts Eddie. Okay, that nervous stirring in the pit of his stomach persists, but it’s sure as hell exciting. Eddie backs away, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Gonna eat me or fuck me?”

“C’mon on, man. Didn’t I say, ‘Sssssh’?”

“There’s better ways to shut me up.”

The kiss is delicious and deep, and Steve just breeeaaaaks. It’s easy to surrender to this—the hot, thrumming weight of Eddie’s clothed body pressed to his near-nakedness, the slick sweep of Eddie’s tongue, the frisson of tinsel against Steve’s ever-more-sensitive flesh as he fidgets and sighs. He feels wanted, worshipped… and randy as hell.

Eddie breaks the kiss abruptly. Before Steve can whine about it, Eddie presses a finger to his own lips, looking… kinda stressed?

The blood thundering in Steve’s ears calms enough for him to hear the loud knocking on the door.

“Eddie? Steve? Hellloooo!” It’s goddamn Henderson.

“I’ll tell him to scram.” Eddie leaves.

Steve’s breathing speeds up again—his face burns, the rest of his skin feels oddly chilled. Distant voices murmur, an owl hoots, and he’s all alone… and feeling… okay, yeah, vulnerable.

Don’t be a wuss, Harrington. You can break free if you want. It’s candy-ass tinsel.

He tugs at his bonds. 

No, don’t spoil the game.

His eyes lull closed, and he’s lost in an instant. 

His hands are tightly bound… above his head… no, behind his back? Shit, shit, shit, he’s losing track of everything save his terror. All he knows is he’s struggling, and he can’t get free and the Soviets are gonna hit him again. They just keep hitting him. Shouting in his face. He tastes the blood, and he’s screaming it over and over: “For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy.”

His raw throat clogs, then closes up. He can’t breathe! The vines… Those goddamn vines. They’re winding about his every limb, slithering, squeezing tight around his neck. His whole existence reduces to a desperate fight for air… I’m choking… drowning… suffocating… Oh God… Oh God! He fights in small, snatchy gasps that he barely believes in. Vecna’s got him, and he’s gonna die, and…

“Steve! Sweetheart, you’re okay… You’re okay… I gotcha.”

“Wha—” Steve’s eyes fly wide. Eddie. Eddie’s here! Leaning over him. Touching him tenderly. Reality slams back, and he throws an arm around Eddie’s neck and clings. Eddie hugs him close, and the whirlwind of his panic slows. His only actual pain is a faint sting in his wrists and ankles, where he’s busted through the tinsel.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Steve’s clammy brow. “Leaving you was dumb. The whole idea was dumb.”

“S’okay.” Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and his pulse and breaths calm further. “I kinda enjoyed it till…” I totally lost my shit. He slowly inhales Eddie’s warm, reassuring scent. The terrifying flashbacks retreat a little further. He’s okay… He’s okay! As long as Eddie never lets him go, the darkness won’t win.

He nuzzles up toward Eddie’s ear: “Maybe try again next year?”