#i have a cd boombox on the way :3

[bmpmp3]

i should start making like little short mixtapes and burn them on cd. i think that would be fun. make little booklets for the jewelcases........

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 2 here | part 3 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

part 2 here | part 3 here

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[splatooshy]

what kind of music/artists/bands do you think the scooby gang + the originals would listen to in the early seasons?

OH OH OH

well we know from canon that even without humanity, damon can & will listen to taylor swift without complaint. even though he’s perfectly capable of compelling a music change.

& he listens to depeche mode so he’s automatically cool.

i think the salvatores have very wide tastes, but not much overlap. stefan loves bon jovi to an unhealthy degree, and would probably have been a BIG beach boys fan back in the day. he’s totally over it now though, those records in his cupboard are purely decorative!! damon would love ABBA, head over heels reminds him of katherine & he uses it to outsource his emotions in his no humanity era. stefan tolerates it for lexi’s sake (damon thinks it’s unfortunate that he and lexi have similar music taste. it’s probably the only thing he likes about her). also the cure.

i think stefan cries to bon iver’s ‘roslyn’.

both stefan and damon would be into stevie nicks & florence + the machine & paramore & david bowie (damon in fact knew him rather well back in the seventies…) but in totally different ways. damon loves anthems & grooves, discordant sounds and triplet beats, while stefan digs a good beat & steady rhythm. with a fabulous guitar riff ofc.

bonnie is also a big paramore girly. also hozier. i think she and damon bond over similar music tastes.

caroline listens to taylor swift (fearless is her fav, red & 1989 are 2&3), one direction, jonas brothers, miley, britney etc. she bullies politely asks jeremy to let her use his tech stuff to make her own mixes. she also has a hot pink boombox that she takes to every cheer practice. it’s covered in stickers that won’t come off no matter how hard she tries. yes, vampire strength has been applied.

elena spent the three months between the crash & stefan blasting dean lewis in her bedroom. hozier, bon jovi to seem cool to stefan, janis joplin, probably some british pop like dexys midnight runners, ed sheeran, bastille. but that’s a secret she’ll take to her grave.

jeremy listens to 21 pilots, mcr, p!atd, bleachers (later seasons tho. don’t think they existed til 2015 or something), the neighbourhood, arctic monkeys, fallout boy, etc. probably listens to sheppard on repeat. geronimo just really speaks to him, okay?! absolutely does not copy damon’s taste in music, that’s just a coincidence!!! he’s also the source of elena’s secret love for british pop.

matt listens to elevator music. nah he just plays whatever’s on the radio. my truck is my girlfriend & my dog has fleas kind of country music? idk.

tyler has all of those mix cds like sofresh, each 00s / 90s genre, really does not care what he listens to as long as he can nod his head along.

alaric listens to 80s rock in a dad way & whatever damon plays because damon has dj rights everywhere & will push his way onto the aux.

not really in the gang but katherine listens to male manipulator music. and female manipulator music like ethel cain, fiona apple, etc.

the originals?

klaus listens to smooth jazz. and instrumental covers. he’ll text stefan a link to the lamest love song ever (instrumental) with the caption ‘this is our song’.

kol also listens to smooth jazz, but in a cool way. as well as 00s pop. he and rebekah fight over who discovered what song first. he would absolutely LOVE musicals. has the glee & hamilton soundtracks on his little ipod. BOY BANDS OMG kol has a backstreet boys poster confirmed. also 90s-00s hip hop / rap / pop hybrids. especially nelly furtado.

OH OH THE SHREK SOUNDTRACK. that’s his jam fr fr.

rebekah is a speak now girly through and through. ‘innocent’ is literally her song. she’s just so taylor swift. she would LOVE suki waterhouse, but that’s not for another few years. OH WAIT REBEKAH’S CANONICALLY ALIVE IN 2024. she absolutely listens to chappell roan and it DEFINITELY does not make her think of hayley, why would you say that???

elijah listens to eight hour long symphonies and concertas, but won’t complain if one of the others is hogging the aux. he will not be so childish as to dagger his siblings over music disputes, (klaus), or break their arms (rebekah), thank you very much. he only demands control of the music when damon’s trying to seduce him (succeeding), because elijah knows how to woo & be wooed in return. that includes the romantic playlist. also, damon has a very annoying habit of singing along & playing air guitar when the bridge hits just right, usually whilst there is a cock in his ass.

finn likes renaissance fair music. he considers it to be contemporary, as he was daggered during this period.

[larvaem1lk]

cookie stand

ellie williams x fem reader <3

🦋 hellooo, this is my first time publishing a fic to tumblr! i’m like really nervous and scared and !!!!!! i wrote this in mid march which was one of my first times writing for the lovely & beautiful ellie, so please forgive me if she’s kind of like. not characterized well. i hope there aren’t any errors & pls forgive my overuse of the words ‘pretty’ and ‘CDs’… i’ve been holding this one out for tooooo long so. please enjoy

🦋 warnings: none really :) there’s cursing and my… no so good writing though… overall this is just cute and ellie is like so nervous because why are u such an angelic being!?!?

other than that, please enjoy & thank u to anyone who reads!! :-* i hope u like it or at least someone out there does. feedback is so appreciated, promise my fics from here will be better <3

It was your scent that first consumed her mind full of wonder… the unfamiliar sweetness filling her nose and leaving her woozy. She didn’t know what it was, or who it was. She just assumed the pretty flowers were emitting nectar to attract insects that she just so smelled, too.

The sky was sunny; the weather was warm, and it was near the middle of spring. Obviously, the blooming flowers would make the most sense. Though she was wrong.

She wasn’t aware of the pretty girl a couple of feet away standing at the cookie stand. She didn’t notice the swarming bundles of children and parents that crowded the tiny baby pink stand, eager to try the sweets. In fact, she wasn’t paying attention to anything else around her.

No, Ellie was only here because Dina said there was supposed to be some guy selling CDs of Ellie’s favorite band that disbanded years ago. She could barely locate any of their music, so this was her only opportunity. Sure, she had the internet, and different media platforms, but that same Dina had bought a boombox for whatever reason and didn’t want it to collect dust. 

So here Ellie sat on a bench, sketchbook in her lap, while she drew random doodles of things around the park near her college—squirrels, butterflies, and dog poop. Or she would scribble random thoughts down, like, “Where are my CDs????” and “Why do dogs squat like that to shit.”

She looked up every few minutes for a sketchy man with a duffel bag, or whoever she thought would have potentially had the stash of CDs.

Yet out of all of the people that walked through, nobody matched the appearance. Maybe she missed them? Was it possible that a group of grannies carried CDs of a long-forgotten band? Or the young moms pushing strollers? She was giving up hope. She almost felt like she had just gotten played.

It wasn’t until she heard your lighthearted giggle in the distance that stopped Ellie from packing up. She looked at the entrance. Nobody. She looked to her right. There you were. A huge smile was on display and your eyes were a bit crinkled. You were squatting to talk with the… many children that surrounded you.

There was confusion at first, her eyebrows pinching inward as she watched you. Were you some type of… teacher? Caregiver? Wait, no. She didn’t even notice the baby pink stand behind you. It looked kind of cute. She squinted, and saw a pear-green sign that read, “HOMEMADE cookies!! $2.50 each… + random FREE CDs! :)”

Hold the fuck on. Random “FREE” CDs? This might just be where she finds the discography of her favorite band. But it was weird, a cookie stand selling random CDs? hell, she didn’t even care at this point. She’s been in need of some music to jam out to while she drew. Plus, she was interested in learning a few on the guitar just for herself.

Without a second thought, Ellie was stuffing her materials into her bag and throwing it over her shoulder as she stomped over to where your stand was. There was a bit of a line between children and parents. She was disappointed to be all the way in the back, but it would be worth it once she got what she was looking for.

Though it wasn’t a guarantee that you’d have what she wanted. She had been to so many music stores, even searching sketchy websites. Everyone told her the band never existed or we haven’t had them in our catalog for years, so how would you be any different? The small bit of hope was starting to fade again, but, she couldn’t say no to a cookie. Plus, you were pretty.

In the meantime, Ellie stood, waiting. She watched insects in the grass, watched people walking, but she was mostly watching you, from the way your eyes crinkle when you smiled too hard or how caring you were towards the children.

The spring sun was shining over your body, your skin glowing under the soft beams. You had such a pretty smile, and your lips looked so soft. They were shiny with gloss and Ellie wet her own with her tongue at the thought of feeling your lips on hers.

You stood behind the stand, talking and laughing with what seemed to be a guy with his younger sibling. You two seemed to be catching up, as the conversation went on for a good 5 minutes. Or maybe he was flirting. Hopefully not.

Ellie laughed when she heard a kid whine about how badly they had to pee and how long the cookie girl was taking, and Ellie silently agreed. The cookie girl was holding everyone up.

Ellie stood in line for a good 10 minutes before she was behind one more parent-kid duo towards the front. She had watched as kids walked away with large chocolate chip cookies while parents reminisced about CDs from their prime.

She watched as you talked to the child and practically made friends with their mom. But then she was next up as she saw the duo disappear.

This is it. Just do it.

With shaky legs, and a quiet exhale, she took a step closer to the stand, and damn, you were even prettier up close. Your eyes were so pretty under the sunlight and and your face was just—pretty. Ellie felt her mouth dry at the sight.

But why at that moment did a breeze have to blow by? That’s when the dangerous smell of sweetness filled her nose again, and she realized she had been mistaken before. Those weren’t flowers, it was you. You were the one with the dreamy aroma engulfing her in your essence. Now that she was closer to you, it was stronger than before.

Lost in your eyes, she didn’t catch the way your mouth moved in a greeting. And the way you smelled wasn’t helping either. Those same eyes filled with kindness were now glazed over with confusion, and it hit Ellie that you were waiting for her response. She blinked and glanced over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was behind her, sighing in relief when she saw no one.

You spoke up again, tilting your head with concern as your expression. “You okay?” You asked and fuck, your voice. It surprised her that she was still standing with how weak her knees felt.

Ellie cleared her throat and nodded, sniffling out of anxiousness but all that did was nearly slip her back into the clouds again. “Yeah, I’m good. I, Sorry, I just—totally blanked out there,”

She was relieved to see you smile in response. She hoped you didn’t think she was weird for staring at you like that, but how could she not when you looked like… you?

Your gaze lingered on Ellie’s face for a little while, taking in the sparkle of her green eyes and the freckles that decorated her cheeks. Under the brightness of the sun, there was a subtle sheen to her auburn-colored hair. You couldn’t lie. She was pretty. Really pretty. You noticed her drawing by a tree not too long ago when you came to set up your stand.

Ellie felt herself get a little warm at the way you were looking at her. Or maybe that was the weather. The forecast said 60, but it felt more like 80.

You looked down at the table and motioned toward two pink plates of large chocolate chip cookies. “How many would you like?” You clasped your hands together before placing them behind your back.

You were so sweet. So nice. The first thing she had done and couldn’t stop doing was stare at you, yet all you did was smile and ask her how many cookies she wanted. You were a dream.

Ellie’s eyes flickered down to the table in front of you to admire the cookies for a second. They were large, perfectly round, and she didn’t want to seem dumb for thinking this, but the chips seemed to be placed perfectly, too. Of course. With everything balanced, they almost looked damn near store-bought. “Are these really homemade?” She looked up with her eyebrows raised and you nodded.

“Yep! You know these were almost a failed batch, but I fixed them last minute. I was so pissed, but the people love ‘em, so I ain’t too mad about it.” You shrugged and Ellie smiled. She loved hearing you talk.

She pulled her lips to the side and fiddled with her fingers before speaking, “Well, I’d love to have one. How much are they?” You leaned forward to tap the pear green sign with your nail. Ellie instantly felt dumb as she read the large bubble letters, $2.50 each…

She mentally face palmed herself. “Oh… yeah, that’s right. Sorry. Again.” You laugh as she digs into her bag to bring out three crumpled sheets of green. “Can never keep track of coins,” her words were in a whisper as she handed you the dollar bills.

She watched your every movement, somehow finding everything you did fascinating. You were like some ethereal being that she’d come across, entrancing her with your mesmerizing aura. She had seen plenty of girls before, able to woo them with her charm and exude such a confidence with ease. But what was it with you?

You folded the dollar bills toward you before sliding them into your pocketbook that sat on top of a large bin beside you. Inside were rows of colorful CDs and Ellie’s eyes lingered there for a moment as she remembered what she was actually there for. Gotta stay on track.

You grabbed a pear-colored napkin from the pile that sat beside the cookies, and Ellie noticed the matching with the the sign. You handed it to her with the cookie inside, and when Ellie took a bite she almost passed out.

“Wait, whoa, holy shit…” her words muffled as she chewed. You couldn’t read her expression, but her brows pinched inward, and you weren’t sure if the taste surprised her or… if it was bad. Dammit, this batch. Maybe she had gotten a particularly bad cookie out of the hundred you hadn’t sold yet.

“Do you like it?” You squinted with a bit of hesitancy, feeling nervous. Her eyes shot up to you from the cookie immediately. “What do you mean? I love this. This is so fucking good! And you’re telling me these were almost a failed batch?”

You smile at her reaction. “Oh my gosh, thank you! I’m glad you like it. Do you want a CD?”

Ellie stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth and chewed a little before stuffing the napkin in her pocket. She swallowed hard before nodding. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’s actually what I was here for, but I don’t regret that cookie.”

Ellie felt her heart skip a beat when she heard you giggle. “Well, who are you looking for? I have pretty much everything… I think… I dunno. My gramma was just an insane diehard music fanatic, and I thought it’d be nice to let people have a little bit of that too. You know? But, now that I think about it these aren’t really ‘random’? All the artists are pretty well known and I sorted them into different genres so—what would you like?”

Ellie watched as you sighed afterwards, and she could tell you felt a little embarrassed because of your rambling. But she thought it was cute with the way you moved your hands and how you looked up to the left when you got sucked into your thoughts.

“Hm, let’s see if the cookie girl has what I’m looking for.” You smile at the name “cookie girl” and Ellie cringed once the name of the band came out of her mouth in fear that you would say the same thing everyone else did. And she was tired of searching.

But when your face lit up, she almost felt confused because she had never received that reaction before. She was more familiar with confused or sympathetic expressions.

“Are you serious? I definitely have them. I swear my grandma talked about them all the time before she passed.” You turned to the large bin and rummaged around. “You want their EP or—“

“Yes! Yes. Yeah. Gimme everything you got of ‘em. Please.”

You smiled before you were quick to search for what she wanted. Ellie studied your every movements in anticipation as your fingers walked over the tops of various CD cases. But once you stopped, she felt a sense of relief. Finally.

You pulled out CD after CD, almost dropping some when you turned to the table. You cautiously set them down and Ellie grabbed one to examine the cover.

“Oh man… holy fuck! This is really them…” she whispered while turning over the CD to look at the backside. She read the different titles of the band’s songs and looked over the faces of each member in the picture.

You take in how excited she is as she looks through the disks and stuffed each one into her bag. She looked cute. There was a sparkle in her eyes as you watched her look over the last one.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for them? Literally, nobody had their stuff for shit.” She looks up at you to be met with your beautiful smile. She almost got lost in your eyes again, and as a breeze just so flowed by, your scent mesmerized her once more.

You say something that Ellie doesn’t catch, but you say something again as a question and she has to force herself to blink to come out of her daze.

“Sorry—uh, what’d you say?” she squints, feeling a little flustered.

You blow a laugh through your nose. “I was just saying that I hope you have fun with your CDs. I’m gonna be packing up soon, so are you sure that’s all you want?”

Ellie frowned a little. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. I got what I was looking for… thanks to you. Really, thank you.”

You smile that beautiful smile of yours and nod. You turn away to rummage around in a larger bag and Ellie watches as you do. She’s not sure if she should say bye or if she should just walk away. She found the CDs, finally, but she had also come across another find, you.

The more she talked to you, the more she wanted to get to know you. She wanted to see that gorgeous smile all the time and look into your pretty eyes whenever she wanted to. She wanted to play songs for you on her guitar while you baked more cookies and she wanted to draw pictures of you and things you liked. The two of you didn’t even have to jump right into romance. She just wanted to be your friend and be around you all the time.

“Hey, um… do you—you go to the college right?” Ellie didn’t even notice when the words spilled out of her mouth, but it was enough to make you stop and look at her. She absentmindedly clutched the strap of her bag as she waited for your reply.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. Ellie nodded and just stood there, wanting more words to tumble out of her mouth but she was worried she’d fuck up and say the wrong thing. Which is why she slid her bag off her shoulder halfway to dig inside. She opened up her sketchbook and ripped a corner piece of paper out before rummaging around for some type of pencil.

You watched as she leaned over the table and scribbled something down in a rush that you couldn’t quite decipher. When she was done, she scanned over it and handed you the paper. Her face was a light pink as she did so and it confused you as you took the paper from her.

When you looked down, there were some words along with what you think was a number that read, “thanks for the cookie n CDs…. call me sometime? - ellie w.”

You smiled like a schoolgirl and went to say something to her, but she had already left. You looked around the park before you to spot the girl with auburn hair and green eyes with the freckles but unfortunately had spotted no one. Though at least now you knew what you would do as soon as you got to your dorm.

You would call Ellie.

[1spy]

1990 | The Black Crowes - "Twice as Hard"

My mom bought me the Black Crowes' debut album, Shake Your Money Maker for Christmas in 1990. She also got me ZZ Top's Recycler. They were first two compact discs I owned, and she also bought me my first CD player, a small boombox that could play cassettes, too.

Which was good because at the time, all I the music I had were several Eagles albums on cassette, plus Aerosmith's Pump and Don Henley's The End of the Innocence. I also had some of my mom's old records and a record player I had set up in my room.

I had turned 16 in September of 1990, and my first car was my mom's old 1979 Mustang. The same car my brother and I used to ride in on the way to preschool listening to Queen on 8-track. At the dawn of the 90s, that car was now mine, except the 8-track didn't work anymore. Instead, I just switched between the rock and classic rock stations on the old analog radio dial. There was a very narrow band of music I wanted to hear, and it lay between 101 KLOL (Rock) and 107.5 KZFX (Classic Rock). 

The Black Crowes were just like all the classic rock bands I was listening to on the radio, except they were young and cool. Other kids at school liked them. Their videos were mainstays on MTV’s Top 20 Countdown. They were getting press in the music magazines I just was starting to read. 

Getting into the Black Crowes felt like I had finally found a popular band that was mine. I wasn’t late to the party. I was in on the ground floor from their very first record. They were really the only modern rock band I liked in the first half of high school (along with Guns N’ Roses), and so they had huge impact on me. Seeing Axl and Chris Robinson on MTV made me want to be a rock singer. Before I could even play guitar I was practicing their moves and trying to sing like they did. 

I even met some other kids at school who liked the Crowes and tried to start a band. I quickly realized just being a singer wasn’t gonna work, and that’s what got me started on guitar. The first guitar tablature I ever bought was the Black Crowes “Remedy” from their second record, The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion. Eventually, trying to play guitar like Rich Robinson got me into open tunings and Nick Drake. Which is why I was listening to Pink Moon well before the famous Volkswagen commercial aired.

All of which is to say that when you’re young, just being super into one band or one album can have a huge effect on your life. Send you down all kinds of rabbit holes. And here I am typing in my office with seven guitars on my wall, still gloriously stuck in the dirt I started digging 34 years ago.

This morning, November 3, is my mom’s birthday. In a million ways, she’s the reason I started digging. Her 8 track cassettes. Her records. Waking me up at the Kenny Rogers show when I was five to make sure I heard my favorite song. Taking me to see Don Henley at the Woodlands Pavilion. Buying me my first CD and first CD player. Signing me up for my first Columbia House subscription. Paying for me to have guitar lessons at Rockin’ Robin. And it was her subscription to Entertainment Weekly that eventually turned me into the music editor for my high school newspaper.

One of my earliest memories was my mom rushing me home in time to see Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park on network TV in 1978. I didn’t know then what the movie was called then. I barely knew who Kiss was. I only knew Gene Simmons was my favorite and that his tongue was scary. And that the whole band looked frightening and insane. I was only four years old. But what I remember clearly is how harried and stressed out my mom was trying to make sure that I got home in time to see it.

Well, I got to see it. I don’t remember seeing it. But I remember you. Happy birthday, Mom. I miss you.

Fave lyrics:

Twice as Hard As it was the first time I said goodbye And no one ever want to' know Love ain't funny A crime in the wink of an eye

[archonedd]

A journey through Sega's marketing machine with the power of the cassette

I know, I know, a bit of a wild stretch to start this blog off without some proper introduction. Hi. I'm archonedd / Nobusuke, and I'm an avid (at the time of publication) 23 year old Sega (and Sonic) nut.

After mercilessly mocking cassettes as some old fad throughout the elementary and high school years as the world started gravitating more and more towards online streaming, I picked up a cassette player in early 2017 no doubt due to the hype surrounding a cassette that Star-Lord was seen playing on repeat on one of the Guardians of the Galaxy movies. Along with said cassette player, came a Type 1 cassette tape to play. It changed my music experience in ways I'd never imagined, and I even tried substituting my CD-based boombox with one of these and needless to say the equipment left a lot to be desired.

It turns out that modern cassette players just don't have the quality mechanisms that legacy cassette decks used to have, and the number of new cassette-enabled devices seem to be dwindling globally as time goes on. Not to mention, most people's recollections of cassettes seems to border towards "listening to a crappy stream from the car's radio" to "only listening to a film's vision of what cassettes or any other vintage audio format used to sound like".

It sure took a YouTube channel like Techmoan and Retro Core AV as well as several others where my outlook on cassettes (and several vintage audio formats) began to change a little as I learned more about the different types of cassettes, and how cassettes can sound a lot like or even close to a properly mastered CD if given the right budget and expectations. So imagine my surprise when I heard almost 5 years later that Sega even started using distributing cassettes dubbed "Sega Forever Volume 1". My initial reaction was - "Wait a minute. What??"

What is this tape about?

Basically the idea of this was to serve as a promotional item sent out to various YouTubers and Sega-centric content creators prior to the launch of the "SEGA Forever" service on mobile devices. The tracks on these are basically taken from popular arcade and Mega Drive/Genesis titles, some of which are still remembered to this day.

The most remembered ones include the arcade BGM to Space Harrier and Outrun, as well as those from Mega Drive standout classics like Phantasy Star 2, Shining Force 2, and even Vectorman (a Blue Sky Software effort) gets a special shoutout though only Terraport from that game gets represented. Overall, there are 12 songs spread into two sides of six.

The strange thing is some of the Sega arcade titles even got console ports on non-Sega systems usually through third parties like Sunsoft and NEC Avenue.

Here is the complete tracklist in case you may not remember.

For the lucky 512 or so content creators lucky enough to receive this retro blast, the package even included a biro pen just in case your cassette player somehow "ate the tape" and you're on the task to spool the tape back in. You, know, like the old days where cassette enjoyers did it. I personally do not have such a strong nostalgic connection, but I just found it interesting to mention.

What are the technical specifications?

There are four types of cassettes sold throughout the market during the continuing lifespan of these audio wonders.

Type 1 refers to a general cassette you are most likely to buy today. This is known as a "Ferric" tape.

Type 2 known as "Chrome" is a step up from Type 1. While it is a general step up from Type 1 tapes, in the end, quality Type I cassettes have higher midrange MOL than most Type II tapes, slow and gentle MOL roll-off at low frequencies, but less treble headroom than Type II.

Type 3 "Ferrichrome" doesn't really exist anymore as far as I can tell.

Type 4 is the supreme stuff. These are called "Metal" tapes. To play such a high-class tape, your deck or player would have to be rated for metal tape playback. Something that today's modern tapes aren't quite capable of playing now, or at least I don't think so.

It seems more likely that Sega Forever Volume 1 cassette is a Type 1 metal tape with no noise reduction to speak of. These days, Dolby noise reduction may be no more, but substitutes such as DDi Codec will be able to alleviate that.

Sega Forever....

Let's talk about Sega Forever. Sega Forever was a then-new initiative to get its best retro games available for a mobile audience that's still going today. Very similar to what they are already doing with Sega Mega Drive Classics on multiplatform experiences via PC, PS4 and XBOX. This cassette was to coincide with the launch of the Sega Forever platform on smartphone on 21 June 2017, with the initial lineup being Altered Beast/Jyuohki, Comix Zone, Chameleon Kid, Sonic the Hedgehog 1 and Phantasy Star II.

Unfortunately it had a somewhat rocky launch. With the exception of the rebooted Sega Forever Sonic the Hedgehog mobile conversion handled by Stealth (the same guy that demoed what Sonic could look like on the GBA compared to the half-baked effort Sega of America pumped out in 2006), almost the entirety of the selection ran poorly despite modern hardware enhancements. It seemed to be a middleware problem as Sega reportedly failed to reach an agreement with the people behind the Retroarch project, instead settling for a Unity-based emulation solution.

Since then, Sega have upped the quality of the emulation for the smartphones of our time.

[fefiz]

📷 morpheus (the sandman)

🍫 chocolate.

✨ fefe, fefiz, laghi, fern

🎵 the lovecats - the cure

✏️ yes. i write shit over my friends, mostly.

😏 yes, since 2018

💛 nope and I don’t pretend having any

🐰 their body language, the way they speak and their taste in music

🍪 a small cookie with lots of chocolate into it

🐶 i’m a cat person. i really don’t appreciate dogs.

🎧 headphones, obviously. (earbuds kill your drums)

🌼 idk

🙃 dolphins make up gangs to rape other dolphins

🦉 depends on the time. mostly morning i guess

🧸 my bed or the couch in the living room

🏳️‍🌈 yes, unfortunately.

🦋 sincerely unusual clown

👖 jeans outside, sweatpants inside

🥤 anything strawberry or caramel

🤎 probably none, since any color can go well with another if well chosen.

💎 in terms of price: yami marik figure, ibanez guitar, nintendo switch, cd collection // in terms of sentimental affection: my hat, all of my band t-shirts, my flanel shirts and my jackets

☕ i prefer coffee but i barely drink tea or coffee (black coffee)

🦖 dinosaurs go raaaawrrr

🌙 two years i guess (i barely use tumblr)

🌴 cds and boombox

🐸 vintagey metalhead mismatched retro androgynous smol tomboy~

🔮 manga-ka or comic artist, bd world worker

💙 single, looking for a pretty affectionate girl who’ll worship me for my metalheadiness :3 (jk)

🌿 blue: blue flannel shirt, cob tee, black (ripped) jeans + blue converse // red: red flannel shirt, iron maiden tee, same jeans ig + doc martens or mismatched lace color converse

🎤 hallowed be thy name - iron maiden

🤎 boring brown (thinking about painting it black ~~rolling stones~~)

💌 sometimes when i’m alone

💄 no, never will although eyeliner gets my attention sometimes. i may use it someday

🌸 whenever i’m not around, the group gets boring

💞 i dunno, probably @polteergeistt 's blog?

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[autisticsuperpower]

Part I: The Hurting 💔

When you’re born, you don’t have a clue of how life will turn out.

You don’t even know the obstacles that are thrown your way.

The lack of eye contact and not responding to my name being called was the first sign of an obstacle that would, one day, become my biggest superpower.

I just didn’t know it yet.

I was just a perfect portrait, trying to be normal and be perfect.

I didn’t know how to react to being told I was different.

I was sad to never fit the norm.

I was angry I was made like this. 

Like being punished for doing something wrong that I didn’t know of.

“You are Autistic”.

It all made sense.

The struggles of social interaction.

The meltdowns and the sensory overloads.

It was embarrassing and not easy to process.

When my puberty alarm went off, I felt the glass break.

When the bullies harassed me to beyond any breaking points, I turned psychotic inside.

That normal perfect portrait shattered into millions of little bitty pieces.

And yet, here I am today.

Reflecting on certain memories of my past that now tie eerily to my present.

How convenient.

I was the perfect son of God, where I drank his blood, ate his bread, and yet, I wasn’t quite enough for people who called me “over-exaggering” and “over the top”.

So I swallowed my pride and my Autism to blend in, but that ended up backfiring.

I felt the knife cutting into my skin, the pills going through my esophagus and into my stomach and all that was left was the need to know: “Why are people this fucking awful?”

“Why can’t people take me for as I am?”

It reached a point where one minute, I was physically blacking out and the next minute, I was in an ambulance on my way to the hospital with IV in my hand.

Did I die and come back to life?

I physically pushed myself so far past my breaking point.

Over and over again. 

I did not think I was going to get to the end of the tunnel.

But I saw the light, very dim and closing fast.

I ran like Max in Stranger Things, trying to make it to the other side to start over and start fresh.

But do you really, with depression?

With anxiety?

With PTSD?

And mostly, with Autism?

I’m not a Video Cassette that you can rewind. 

I’m like any other CD in a boombox that can get scratched and cut up until it’s chopped and mixed.

I have scars.

And these past few months, let alone 3 years have opened up old wounds that are hard to sew back together.

Harder now that I am grown.

To be left out of parties, panels, get-togethers, and soirees reminds me of being left out of pre-parties before events, day-trips, and sports games as a kid.

That was brutal.

Seeing it online or hearing it through the word of mouth is even worse.

I was literally thrown in front of the bus, just to be run over and over again and again.

I was never enough. 

And yet I still feel that.

And I couldn’t put up with it anymore.

So how do I move forward?

How do I recover?

I needed a remedy. I needed therapy.

I needed my Autism to work with me.

For me.

I just don’t know how to, if I don’t love myself enough for it.

I hurt myself in ways more than anyone thinks is imaginable.

Hurt so much I fell into deep water and was drowning.

Drowning fast.

And I had to swim up to the surface faster than a great white shark before it was too late.

[thatblackravenclaw]

When He Loves Me

Masterlist

author note: I honestly don't like this one that much. If this one does okay I might write more Fez.

Fez x fem!reader

word count: 1,061

song: Cloud 9 -Beach Bunny

warning(s): drug use, cussing, pining, pretty much just fluff

outfit reader is wearing

I don’t wanna seem the way I do

But I’m confident when I’m with you

I look good. I look great. He’s gonna like it. Just breathe. You need to ooze confidence even if it’s not real. Fake it til you make it.

“Hey fezzy.”

“Hey mama. What’s up?”

“Nothin, just here to get some Swishers and Doritos,” I say as I put the Doritos on the counter and wait for him to hand me the Swishers. I try to hand him a $40, but then he says, ”If you come over tonight you can get these on the house.”

I take them from him and say, “I’ll see you tonight then good sir.” Okay good now smile, walk away, turn back to him at the door, flip your hair, wink, and continue walking out, remember to exhale.

Fez POV:

Fuck. I can’t even lie; every time she comes in here my heart starts beating out of its chest. Got me feelin’ all fuzzy and shit. I have no idea why I invited her over tonight. As soon as she smiled at me that was it. Fuck, what am I gonna do?

Lately, all I feel is bad and bruised

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“Should I bring edibles,” I ask Rue.

“I mean if you want.”

“You’re like no help, you know that?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely sure what you want from me,” she says before she starts laughing, ”Dude why are you so nervous? It’s just Fez.”

“That’s exactly why I’m nervous. I’m not sure what to do. What do I say? I don’t wanna-“

“Look, Fez won’t care. He’s the chillest person I know, and he likes you, so just be you.”

“He likes me,” I ask before turning and falling flat on my face.

Lately, I’ve been feeling not alive

But you bring me back to life

“I brought gummies!”

“Gummies?

“Yup. Think I’d waste good weed on you? No way,” I say hoping he picks up on the humor in my tone.

“Oh, is that right,” he asks smiling at me. Oh, thank goodness he picked up on it. I’ve been told my humor is hard to detect. I walk in and we chill on his couch. I would question where Ash is, but I know he can hold his own. Also, I don’t mind the alone time with Fez.

I decide to turn on the boombox I got for him last Christmas. I remember him looking at me like I was crazy when he saw it. Told me that no one owned a boombox anymore. I responded by telling him that he’ll appreciate it when the wifi goes out.

It takes the gummies a bit to actually kick in but man when they do.

“Okay, no, but think about it. This bitch Dora, and here come your annoying ass, “y/n, you can’t call Dora a bitch. That’s not right.” Man, FUCK DORA!”

“Are you sure your high ass only took the gummies?”

“No, but my point still stands!”

We chill like that for a while. Sometimes we don’t say anything and just bask in each other’s company. It’s nice. I haven’t felt this content in a while. A slower song comes up next on the cd. I believe it’s called As The World Caves In. I used to hear it on TikTok a lot. It came to a point where I eventually ended up listening to the full song on YouTube.

I unconsciously scoot closer into him. His arm is hanging on the back of the couch. I eventually become so close that I can feel him breathing.

“Hey, Fezzy?”

“What’s up ma?”

“Do you like me?”

“I wouldn’t have you in my place if I didn’t like you,” he says while smiling at me.

“Not like that. I was talking to Rue earlier today and she said that you like me. Like, more than a friend.”

“I’m actually in love with you, but you were close.”

I don’t really say anything back. I honestly just looked up at him and just kissed him. Something that was way overdue, and I can’t believe it took me being high to do. You know the best part? He kissed me back. He pulled me on his lap to straddle him and he kissed me back. I can finally die happy.

But when he loves me

I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty

I feel like somebody

3 months later

I spend most of my free time at Fez’s now. Mostly just making sure he and Ash eat and shit. I know he’s nervous about me being here considering Mouse comes here a lot, but he really doesn’t need to be. Especially since Mouse is kind of sort of my cousin and I basically helped him for years before I decided to focus on school. I still stay hidden though. I’d rather Fez not know. That’s my way of keeping him hidden. Safe.

I’m cleaning up the kitchen because Ash convinced me that we just had to make pancakes today and let’s just say my clumsiness plus his eagerness did not mix well. There was flour everywhere, some of the mix spilled out of the bowl, eggshells that missed the trash, you know, all that jazz. I’m washing the last dish when I feel Fez’s arms wrap around my waist.

“You know, you’d be a really pretty housewife.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.”

“I would actually.”

“Maybe one day we can make that happen.”

“I can make that wish come true, ma. Just say when.”

“Yeah, alright lover boy just hand me that towel. We need to cuddle. I’ve missed you today.”

Even when we fade

Eventually to nothing

You will always be

My favorite form of loving

7 months later

I finally got Fez and Ash to stay in a room with me and just chill. I was leaning in Fez’s arm while Ash’s head was on my lap. I convinced them that we should watch The Sopranos because it’s one of the best shows of all time. Ash probably will never admit it, but I could see in his body language that he was really enjoying the show. I think Fez was just happy that we were all together as a family.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[hotcat37]

this is probably super obscure but jroc and julian hcs? either platonic or romantic, i just think their friendship is overlooked

I'm actually writing a 5+1 fic of this pairing as we are speaking lol I love me some obscure TPB ships. Anyways I'll put in both romantic and platonic hcs! ^_^

-this is actually based off of a rlly cute blooper I found but J-Roc is the only person in the park who can make Julian laugh (like an actual amused laugh, not a lill smile)

-Julian gently smacking the back of J-Roc's head when he's acting ridiculous

-J-Roc is always worried abt embarrassing himself in front of Julian but Julian's so used to these situations already that he doesn't even flinch whenever he catches J-Roc doing something strange

-T finding it super sus that J-Roc is always asking Julian to star in one of his greasy movies because yeah it'd make good money but also why do u seem so overly excited bro???

-J-Roc being personally offended when Julian says he doesn't really listen to music and demanding that the two of them find out just what his taste in music is

-Julian stealing plastic covers for J-Roc to sell his CDs <3

-J-Roc wags out his tongue at Julian sometimes and he has this super long cartoony tongue so Julian has to look away every time to prevent from laughing

-Julian has memorized certain weird vocabulary J-Roc always uses so he doesn't constantly have to ask T for translations

-"knowm'sayin, Jules?"

-"No, I don't know what you're sayin"

-Julian finds the bickering between J-Roc and his mom endlessly amusing

-J-Roc singing a rap about a mystery person for a Valentines Day concert but wait hold that thought why is he describing Julian????

-Julian being unusually dumb as a rock and brushing J-Roc's flirts and longing stares off as just him being J-Roc

-he's not admitting to it, but Julian actually rlly likes it that J-Roc specifically always calls him Jules. It makes their relationship feel even closer with that detail

-Julian coming over to help take care of J-Roc when he's sick (he's actually here for a business scam, but might as well take the poor guy's temperature while he's at it, right?)

-J-Roc learns to pick up on some signs if he's too loud around Julian and adjusts his volume (which is quite hard cuz the man is a walking talking boombox)

-J-Roc trying to be romantic in subtle ways but Julian being oblivious to it

-"hey man, ya wanna come over and listen to the new Snoop Dog CD? ;]"

-"nah thanks man, I've got some weed to sell"

"💔"

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 14 - Unexpected Meeting

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who will they run into?, 3.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention, emotional trauma

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

“Man, I need a break,” Reggie was saying as he strolled with Alex down an unfamiliar street in the early evening, stretching his arms. “I mean, being in the studio all the time has been good, but on top of everything else it’s just so much!”

Unsure where they were headed, Alex walked a few paces ahead on the sidewalk, casually navigating for both of them. He squinted as he looked at Reggie.

“Reggie, you dropped, like, all of your classes once we signed on.”

“Nope!” his friend exclaimed, tilting his head in a proud manner. “I just needed two electives to graduate. It’s okay, though, man. Not everyone finishes their math requirements as a freshman.” Reggie patted Alex’s shoulder, as if it were any sort of consolation.

“No, good for you Reg,” Alex said. His parents had paid for all this private tutoring and even gotten him to take some college credits early. Of course, his only serious plan after high school had been the band so it was all wasted effort, but then all of their attempts with him amounted to that. He was learning to feel less guilty over it. It wasn’t his fault they never cared about what he wanted.

“How long do you think Luke and Bobby are gonna be workshopping their parts together?” Reggie asked.

“Long enough. Where are we going, exactly?”

“Oh, I was just kind of keeping an eye out for anywhere interesting.”

Alex blinked. “I thought we were headed somewhere specific.”

“I’ve only been to this side of L.A. like, once, so I don’t think I’d make a good tour guide,” Reggie stated.

And just like that, Alex’s mind thrust itself back into remembering Willie. He was getting better at not crumbling completely in the moment, but it still felt like his heart was temporarily dunked into a dark ocean of misery. It would remain waterlogged and heavy inside his chest for a while.

“Alex?” Reggie was saying, looking at him with concern. “You okay?”

Snapping his thoughts back to the present, Alex sighed as he looked back at Reggie.

“I’ll be fine.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket and pressed his arms against his sides. Shoulders hunched, he continued through the crowd. Focusing on walking would hopefully help it wear off. He made every step purposeful, trying to get the weight in his heart to fall through his feet. Reggie’s hand on his shoulder made him turn.

“It’s still rough, isn’t it?” he asked gently. “If I said something - ”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex tried to assure him. “Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. Besides, I can’t make you and everyone else walk on eggshells.”

“Maybe not, but we’re in this with you. It may have been different for us, but we all met Willie. I’d never seen you warm up to anyone that fast. Even after a few months, it’s still fresh; don’t force yourself to be better for us.”

Pausing on the sidewalk, Alex looked up at Reggie. He tried to smile as gratitude edged its way in, relieving most of the heaviness in his chest.

“I appreciate that, Reg.”

“Of course, man.”

“So,” Alex took a deep breath to let everything else wash away as they kept wandering. “You made it sound like you had a lot going on. Is everything at home okay?”

Reggie shrugged. “Eh...no change there. My mom went to stay with her sister after the last fight, so my dad’s been trying his best to take care of everything, but he’s too upset to handle it well. My little sister has just been sleeping over with friends anyway, and I can handle myself, so - ” he shrugged again, “ - you know, I do what I can.”

Alex nodded. He had nothing really to comment, and Reggie knew he was always there to support him. This wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it still wasn’t right. Neither of them spent much time at their own homes, so wandering through the city like this kept them occupied when they weren’t with the rest of the band. Looking up at the store signs around them, he saw a record store about a block ahead.

“Hey, why don’t we check that out?” he suggested.

“Yeah!” Reggie said, dropping any ounce of gloom from the previous subject and skipping along to catch up with Alex.

A small bell rang as they came through the door, and they immediately began filtering through shelves of records and CDs. Peeking toward the back of the store, Alex could see a counter that offered a menu of food and drinks, some tables, as well as the smallest stage in the world. This seemed like a neat little place.

“Oh,” Reggie started after a while. “I got us a gig playing at my cousin’s wedding.”

“A wedding?” Alex said skeptically, turning from the Pansy Division vinyl he was checking out. “When we’re trying to finish a record and go on tour?”

“It’s Conrad, okay, he’s family! And he said we could make the setlist.”

Alex shrugged, considering that was fair.

“...with his approval.”

At that addition, Alex could only sigh and shake his head.

“And then maybe, you could, I don’t know, finally ask Bobby to be your date?”

Reggie put down the Mötley Crüe album he’d been examining and looked up at him in shock. Alex realized he’d possibly been too blunt. But immediately Reggie began to cover it up, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?” he said, his denial completely transparent. “Was that a...was that supposed to be a joke or something?”

Giving him a look of pity, Alex put his hands on his hips.

“You’re really gonna try to pull the wool over the eyes of your gay friend?”

Caught, Reggie looked back at him in defeat and bowed his head.

“I’m gonna guess you noticed a while ago?”

Nodding, Alex tried to soften his demeanor. 

“There’s been something up with you two for months. How come you haven’t tried to talk to him about it?”

Reggie knit his brow and began fiddling with his fingers.

“Well, I’m a little confused by it, to be honest. Cuz, I mean...I like girls, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“But I like Bobby, too.”

“Okay.”

His friend looked up at him, expecting more of a reaction. Alex leaned against the shelf and folded his arms.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you? Because you’re talking to the king of wrong feelings.”

“Well, sometimes I feel like that, but not really. It’s something else,” Reggie said.

“Like what?”

“Well...we’ve been friends for years. It just sort of crept up on me and I don’t know what to do. What if he rejects it? He’s one of my best friends.”

Thinking for a moment, Alex looked down at his feet. He didn’t blame Reggie for being worried. He’d had a mini crush on Bobby for a couple weeks back in ninth grade and had the same dilemma. It was easier for him to get over, though, simply because it had faded quickly.

“Well, I wish I could say if it’s meant to be it’ll happen, but sometimes…”

Sometimes it dies in a fire before there’s any chance of knowing.

He shook his head to get rid of the awful thought and ignored Reggie’s look of concern.

“But if I know Bobby, I don’t think it’s going to harm anything. I think you should go for it, Reg. I truly, honestly, will back you up on that.”

A smile spread wide across Reggie’s face.

“Thanks, man!”

Without fretting over it for another second, he turned back to the shelf of CDs he’d been perusing, and Alex did the same. There was a crazy good selection, and Alex wished he could get his hands on a record player. Playing CDs on a boombox worked for some things, but there was a level of charm in playing something on a vinyl record that appealed to him even more. He made a note to get a small notebook to carry in his fanny pack, hoping to return to this store and make a wishlist of sorts to work toward.

“Do I see Alex and Reggie of Sunset Curve?” A familiar voice said from behind.

Both of them turned to find Flynn standing in the aisle, braids tied up into a high ponytail and eyebrow arched in her usual smart fashion.

“Hey Flynn!” Reggie exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. Alex went in for one afterward, happily surprised.

“Hey guys!” she said, grinning.

“What are you up to?” Alex asked.

“Gonna be performing in a bit,” she said excitedly. “Just a warm up before the main group comes on. I’ve been working on some of my own stuff; I think you guys would love it! Got time to stick around?”

“Sweet!” Reggie raised a fist for her to bump. “I’m down. Alex, wanna stay?”

“Yeah, sounds great!”

He had yet to see what Flynn was capable of. If he were to judge only on knowing she’d been in a duo with Julie, he expected it to be good.

“Also, you should try the burritos here,” Flynn told them. “They are to die for!”

The endless click-rollll-click-click-click of his board filled his ears as Willie moved through the street, feeling the wind pass over him in the way that made freedom feel like he could clutch it in his hands. He’d actually spent today not worrying about Alex. It felt good not to dwell on what little past he had access to. Of course, he still had repetitive dreams about the few memories that had come back, but the backwards one with Caleb in it hadn’t come back ever since he’d gotten to LA. Moving forward felt...nice.

He had spent the morning sketching at the beach, getting all sorts of practice in. The beautiful waves, seagulls, the different activities all around him. Somehow a group of young college kids had gotten him to join their volleyball tournament. Willie wasn’t sure if he’d ever played it before, but once he caught onto the game, he’d gotten surprisingly good. It felt nice to roll up the hem of his jeans and dig his toes into the warm sand while playing with a group of strangers. They’d nicknamed him Mowgli, whatever that meant. He liked the sound of it though.

Heading off to work after cleaning himself up, he realized he could spend all his free time that way. Peacefully sketching, meeting fun people, and enjoying his surroundings. Was that all it took to be happy? Willie chuckled at the thought of how much Caleb had stressed over rising to the top of his business game, never appearing to be satisfied with any of it. Leaving Vegas remained the best decision he’d ever made. Of course, he wasn’t always proud about his method of burning down the shed, but it had been one of those...heat of the moment things.

Willie skated up to the back entrance and shook his hair out after lifting off his helmet. Just a few short hours of making food, some chill entertainment, and he could peace out for the night. He headed inside the store and right into the small kitchen. Thankfully, the store didn’t fit too many patrons and it was never hard to keep up with orders, and Kyle had a system so he never had to leave the kitchen. This basically meant he could jam to the live music during the lulls between orders with no interruption.

Kyle entered the kitchen just as Willie was tying on his apron.

“Hey, dude, thanks for coming. We actually got two acts coming in, so it should be a full crowd. Katelyn can be the MC for the first bit, but do you mind taking over for the second half?”

A twinge of excitement came over Willie and he lit up. He’d never gotten to try being an MC before.

“Don’t mind at all!” he said.

“Alright, man!” Kyle exclaimed. “First two orders up: swamp style nachos and a bog burrito.”

“Got it.”

“We’re up for a big night with these performances,” the girl hosting hyped up the crowd. “Let’s give it up for our artist of the night: Flynn Taylor!”

Reggie cupped his hands over his mouth as he hollered along with everyone else’s applause. Alex clapped with a mouthful of nachos. Flynn stepped onto the stage behind a set of deejay turntables, smirking as she began flipping switches and turning knobs.

“Thanks for coming out here everyone,” she said into the mic. More applause and whistles echoed through the room. “We’re gonna make a lot of noise tonight, so let me hear you get pumped!”

As she began playing a beat, Alex bobbed along, immediately interested. He didn’t know a thing about mixing, so he was highly impressed with the different sounds she was using. Then Flynn picked up the mic and began rapping and the whole room cheered.

“...I’m a princess, I don’t need a prince, boy I’m priceless...I’m here to shut it down like a night shift…”

“Man,” Reggie leaned over to Alex. “She’s so good! I say we book her to open for us ASAP as possible.”

Alex merely snorted and chuckled at Reggie’s misuse of the acronym. He actually enjoyed the idea of having Flynn rapping to open for their rock shows. Gigs where all the bands sounded the same got a little flavorless sometimes.

“Also,” Reggie said as he took a huge bite into his burrito. “This is the best burrito I’ve ever had.”

“Lemme try some, you can try my nachos,” Alex said.

All Reggie could say was Mm! as he passed the burrito over.

The final beats of the first performer echoed in the kitchen where Willie had been dancing, waving various kitchen tools around. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the whole set, and wondered what sounded so familiar about the girl who was rapping. Before he could spend more time thinking about it, Kyle came in.

“Okay, you ready?” he asked.

“I just keep people busy and then announce the next group, right?” Willie guessed.

“Yeah, man, you’ve got this!”

“What’s the next group called?”

“Downslide. And they brought some merch, so it’s a good idea to mention that to the crowd as well.”

“Okay,” Willie nodded, slipping out of his apron. “Maybe I could put their t-shirt on or something, you know, sell the look?”

Kyle looked impressed. “Yeah! I’ll go see what they’ve got.”

He left the kitchen and hardly a minute later returned with a jacket.

“They said you could wear it for the night. Not gonna lie, I wish I could wear this, it’s a sweet jacket.”

Willie slipped it on, and turned around. He didn’t often wear jackets, but whatever it was made of was pretty soft.

“Guess I’m ready,” he said, giving Kyle a hand slide and fist bump before leaving the kitchen. He stepped up behind the microphone and looked out at the crowd, and further back, the empty store.

At that moment, he heard the bell of the store door ring and two guys walked outside. Through the window, a familiar leather jacket passed. Then, he saw a head of blonde hair follow, turning to look both ways to cross the street, and his heart grew to fill all the empty space in his chest. It was unmistakable. It had to be.

“Alex...” he breathed quietly into the microphone. Adrenaline immediately went out to his extremities. The crowd before him looked bewildered as they waited for him to announce the next group.

Glancing offstage, he saw Kyle give him a strange look. Willie shook his head, unclear what message he was sending but ultimately knowing he couldn’t stay at his current spot. Before he could think anything else, his legs were bounding out the door. It felt like every ounce of blood in his veins knew. The search was over.

Reggie and Alex had just reached the opposite corner. He wasn’t going to miss his chance.

“Alex!” he cried, running to meet them.

He immediately thrust his arms around a surprised Alex, gripping him tightly, burying his face into his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Alex!” he said, panting. “It’s so good to see you.”

He didn’t feel the hug didn’t reciprocate, and instead Alex grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away. The darkness of the street seemed to envelop him.

“What are you - ?” Alex started, staring back at Willie like he’d just been assaulted. Then shock wiped over his whole face. Then confusion. And then a pain came over all of it that made Willie’s concern grow.

“What - what is it?” he asked, all the excitement gone.

Alex wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he raised a hand to hold the side of his head.

“No, this isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, shrinking backward and shutting his eyes. “This can’t be real.”

Willie glanced over at Reggie, who also stared like he was seeing the impossible. He could see Alex shaking and heard a rattled breath, and felt tension grow thick in the air. Quickly, he went to take Alex’s face in his hands.

“Alex, hey, look, it’s me,” he soothed. He fought to get a look directly into his eyes. “It’s me, Willie.”

Finally, the green ocean gazed back at him, turbulent and restless. What once had been a grounding rhythm of waves had turned into a maelstrom of despair. Even worse were the tears welling up right before him. Willie watched the storm rage for a few seconds, seeking for a moment of calm.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, lowering his hands. Alex looked so wounded it frightened him.

“How are you alive?” Alex begged to know.

Blinking, Willie sat back, astounded at those words. While he agreed it was a miracle he was still alive, he couldn’t fathom why Alex would ask such a question. He chuckled merely out of discomfort.

“I’m here.” Willie glanced at Reggie, looking for an explanation. “Flesh and bone. Why? What happened?”

Alex looked at him incredulously, jaw hanging open. He looked so tightly wound and so scattered all at once. 

“Caleb told me you were dead.”

Willie blanched inwardly at the mention of Caleb, but even more so at the rest of that sentence he’d been utterly unprepared to hear.

“He...he - ” he stammered for a moment. “When would you have even talked to him?”

Sharing a look with Reggie, Alex took a deep breath. Then he looked back at Willie hesitantly.

“We see him all the time. We work for him now.”

It was Willie’s turn to drop his jaw.

“We’ve been signed to his record label for a few months now,” Reggie pitched in.

Directing his gaze to the ground, Willie puzzled for a minute.

“Why would I be dead?” he asked, looking back up at Alex.

For a minute Alex simply gazed at him wordlessly.

“I don’t know,” he said. There was a pause as both of them finally looked at each other, fully aware that this was real. And then Alex threw his arms around Willie to return the hug. Willie had to raise himself up on his toes to avoid falling over, and he tightened his grip to remain steady. He felt joy spread through his whole torso and breathed a sigh of relief as hands tangled into his hair. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m so happy to see you.”

[elf-indulgent]

drinking coffee so i want to post something, here’s a life update

1. i’ve been organising my drawers 2. we had a meeting with our ghost tour bosses last night and they were such assholes.. like they’ll pay for flights and accommodation in Adelaide but they can’t pay to have a second person on tours w low numbers (even tho theres obvious logistical need for it..?) die 3. i’m addicted to youtube “documentaries” usually abt weird internet lore 4. i’m reading Written on the Body and it’s great but it’s taken a dark turn and made me cry fr  5. i’ve been playing CDs (with a boombox! that has a gerard way sticker on it!!) does this make me a boomer yes or no

[writingithink]

In Case You Don’t Stay Forever Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: E Wordcount: 25,627 (aka a potential scrolling nightmare if I posted the whole thing here) Summary: His eyes drifted back down to the box. Really, she was horrible at packing. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it. Granted, he didn’t know a lot about packing - it’s not like he’d ever actually had to do it - but still. Maybe he could help her. The Doctor was pretty sure that generally all of the clothing should be in it’s own spot, not mixed in with tangled jewelry and frayed earbuds and the little mirror she always kept in her purse.

Absentmindedly he picked up the mirror. His face appeared to be much more pale than normal, and the visage was not improved by the tiny crack he noticed running through the reflective glass. Rose’s hand suddenly covered his and the mirror. He jumped slightly and looked up.

“What’s going on? Really?” she asked and he didn’t understand how she couldn’t already know. Sure, he sometimes missed the subtleties of this kind of thing, but Rose normally excelled in this area.

How could she just … not acknowledge the fact that she wasleaving? And how was he supposed to say something about it if she wasn’t? If she didn’t think it mattered? Notes: This is my fic for @doctorroseprompts spring fic bingo, for the prompt 'clean'. And it's very late. But better late than never, right? (My pitiful defense is that I thought this would be a 3k fic, rated G - life did not go that way, the characters had other ideas).

There are not enough thanks I could possibly give to @hey-there-juliet for not only betaing, but listening to all of my rants, helping me to finally make an outline over 2/3 of the way in, and coming up with a real title when my brain went offline after editing. All the love <3

All mistakes are definitely mine, and also I own nothing.

Preview:

While they’re in the TARDIS, time is relative. That being said, the Doctor had gotten used to dealing with human circadian rhythms. He’d have to be, at this point. So even with time being relative, the Doctor couldn’t help but notice that Rose was much later coming into the console room than usual. And he was bored.

You know what isn’t boring, he thought, the Rhibelini Festival on Neghlyvryn.

He had already checked the galley to see if Rose was up having tea. She wasn’t. Or at least, she hadn’t been. It had been about 6 minutes since he’d checked … you know, relatively. It couldn’t hurt to check again.

Of course, he could check her room. But she might be sleeping. Or getting ready. The Doctor didn’t fancy getting told off for waking her (again), and the one time that he had tried to talk to her through her ensuite door over the sound of her shower it had been a complete waste of time. 

So, he checked the galley again. Still no Rose.

Deciding it to be worth the risk, he made her a cup of tea - a peace offering in case he did interrupt her sleep. Rose Tyler is not a morning person (relatively) - something the Doctor had learned very early on.

Once he had the tea made, he walked down the corridor to Rose’s room and was surprised to find her door propped open by some cardboard boxes sitting in the hall. They weren’t taped shut, and he couldn’t resist opening one up. He regretted doing so immediately.

Inside of the box sat a sheet set he had seen on her bed, the old boombox that had been on top of her dresser along with a handful of CDs, and a few articles of clothing that he remembered having seen her wear. It seemed like a rock had lodged in his stomach. 

Sitting down the cup of tea, he opened another box to find more of Rose’s possessions.

“Whatcha doin’?”

His entire body froze as he jerked his head up to see Rose standing in front of him, holding a pair of joggers and an empty picture frame. 

“Doctor? What’s wrong?”

It occurred to him, vaguely, that he must be making her uncomfortable - that he was too still, too silent. Unnaturally silent. His respiratory bypass had kicked in, and he knew that he could breathe, should breathe, but yet … what could he possibly say to her once he did start breathing again?

READ THE REST ON AO3 (copy & paste link under cut, because I hear the update has not helped in the link department)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274986

[rawiswhore]

Various WWF Wrestlers x Fem Reader- “Let The Bodies Hit The Floor”

A sequel to the fanfic I posted on New Year’s Day 2 3 days ago.

_______________________________________________________________

You were throwing a New Year's Day and New Millennium party when the last day of 1999 was transitioning to the first day of the year 2000.

After you and the WWF roster had watched the ball drop on television, you and some male pro wrestlers you think are sexy danced with their bodies writhing and grinding on your completely naked body.

You made sure your ass gyrated on each of their laps before the song ended.

When the song you danced to with them was over, you scurried over to the boombox and pressed the stop button, where the radio stopped playing any music, much to the dismay of the party guests who enjoyed this CD.

Sorry, you had other plans.

Your other plan was pulling out an iconic board game you brought with you, that iconic board game is Twister.

But you're not just gonna play Twister, but naked Twister, where they just so happen to be naked as well!

You've asked certain sexy male wrestlers if they can play naked Twister with you, which they're skeptical about.

It's fine if there's 3 people playing naked Twister, but only if it's one man and 2 women.

They're not homophobic (except Val Venis, probably), but they're afraid they'll have a boner if they're completely naked and their erection will poke into someone's asshole.

You did say they could probably tuck their dicks into their thighs a la Buffalo Bill from "Silence of the Lambs", but they're indecisive of what they should do.

You told them that when someone falls down while playing Twister, they're out of the game, so maybe their dicks won't enter someone's asshole.

Besides, they shouldn't be so worried and scared about being naked men whose bodies are toppling other naked men, considering these men are professional WRESTLERS who have groped, pinned, hugged and had their faces in other men's crotches and asses, all while they're half naked, sweaty, slathered in baby oil and dressed in Speedo's.

Billy Gunn wears pleather short shorts with kiss marks all over them and tells men to "suck it!" while pointing at his crotch, Stevie Richards used to wear crop tops and denim short shorts, whereas Val Venis wears nothing but a purple Speedo and writhes his hips around in a circle and sometimes even slides his hands down his body while doing that, and that doesn't seem suspect?

You even suggested and joked to them if they get an erection, they can think about the Fabulous Moolah and Mae Young wrestling naked and that will kill their boner.

You also joked to Val Venis he should've been castrated by Kai en Tai when they almost cut his dick off, that way his cock won't enter anyone's ass hole!

Twister is also a game where people can crouch on all fours like they're "crab walking" like in elementary school gym class, so they shouldn't be too concerned about getting their dick in someone's anus.

Sadly, there weren't enough circles on the mat for everyone you wanted to invite to play naked Twister with you, so you had to have only a few players.

Those players were you, Christian, Jeff, Val, Test and Billy, you picked the sexiest men to play it with as well as some of the smallest, skinniest male wrestlers.

Who did you invite to shout out what body part you put your hand or foot on which color and flick the arrow on the little board?

Triple H!

He's jealous that he'll miss this, but he does get to stare at your naked body as well as some other male wrestler's nude bodies.

Before playing the game, you told the whole room that you and some wrestlers are gonna play Twister naked, but they can feel free to get some snacks and drinks, as well as told these wrestlers what the rules of Twister were.

Though, they played Twister as kids, they remember the rules and you shouldn't have reminded them of the rules.

Whoever is the last one on the mat gets to have sex with you tonight.

"But what if you're the last one on the mat?" Jeff asked, raising his hand.

Good point.

You explained that whatever man is the last one on the mat with you gets to have sex with you tonight.

"But what if all of the circles are covered by hands and feet?" Christian asked.

You thought for a little while, until you suggested an idea.

"Maybe Triple H will spin the arrow" you suggested, shrugging your shoulders. "And a body part will replace another body part when he says what color and body part!"

They nodded their heads, getting the memo.

They haven't played Twister since they were kids, but they've never played naked Twister.

You slid your feet out of your stilettos, whereas these male wrestlers you had previously danced with had undressed until they were completely stark naked, placing their clothes on a couch.

You should've done this in a hotel room instead of at a New Year's Day party, what if someone steals their clothes?

Though, you have other plans for this New Year's Day party after this game.

Once these sexy male wrestlers were all naked, you stood on the edge of the Twister mat alongside Billy Gunn and Test, whereas Christian, Val and Jeff were standing across from the mat.

Despite Twister being a game that requires 2, 3 or 4 players, like Shawn Michaels said about D Generation X, you make the rules and we will break 'em!

Some of these male wrestlers were trying to deflate their erections, thinking of something unsexy like Mae Young and the Fabulous Moolah wrestling naked.

Was it working? Surprisingly, yes!

Triple H flicked the arrow on the board, where the arrow spun in circles around the board, until it stopped at left foot yellow.

"Left foot yellow!" Triple H announced, raising his voice so you and these other wrestlers can hear him.

You lifted your left foot off of the carpet, planting that foot on a yellow circle on the mat.

Billy and Test followed, lifting their left foot up from the carpet and placing it on a different yellow circle, whereas Jeff, Christian and Val standing across from this mat lifted their feet and placed it on a yellow circle.

Jeff, Christian and Val stretched their hamstrings out when they tried to make their foot reach to stand on a circle.

When Triple H saw that everyone's foot was on a circle, he flicked the arrow again, where the arrow furiously spun around until it slowly stopped at a certain square.

"Right hand green!" Triple H shouted.

You bent your body down and swooped your right hand under your left leg, where your hand reached and pressed on a green circle behind the yellow circle one of your feet was standing on.

Billy and Test bent the upper half of their bodies down and did what you did; try to put their hands on the green circle behind the yellow circle one of their feet was covering, whereas Jeff, Christian, and Val reached their hands out and tried to touch an empty green circle, trying also not to stumble and fall down.  

Jeff, Christian and Val were lifting one of their legs up like a flamingo while trying to reach out and put their hand on a green circle, they look like they're playing football and going to push a football back behind someone.

You, Billy and Test looked like you were doing stretch exercises when you bent, like how Trish Stratus used to look on WWE Raw episodes when she stretched before a match.

You and these wrestlers were all trying to keep your balance while putting your hands on a circle, laughing and smiling from ear to ear and trying not to stumble and fall.

Triple H flicked the arrow once more, the arrow spinning around until it stopped.

The arrow stopped at right foot green, and one of the rules is that you should spin the arrow around until it lands on a color in a square.

Triple H spun the arrow again, the arrow spun around until it slowly stopped at a square.

"Left hand red!" Triple H announced.

Your left hand reached out and tried to touch a red circle, and the other wrestlers followed, trying to put their hands on an empty red circle.

It was easy for Jeff, Christian and Val for their hands to touch a red circle since they're so close to it, but it was pretty difficult for you since you're the smallest one playing and far away from the red circles.

You looked really funny squatting with one hand sticking out while another hand is behind your leg, like you were preparing to run around a track.

You as well as these wrestlers were all trying hard not to stumble and fall down, or even touch another circle for now, though it's okay if you fall down.

Triple H spun the arrow again once more, the arrow spun around until it stopped at a circle.

Since the arrow stopped at a color already covered by a body part, he spun it again.

"Left foot blue!" Triple H exclaimed.

You lifted your left foot and placed it on a blue circle, these other wrestlers followed and placed their foot on an empty blue circle.

Test and Billy turned their bodies to the side to put their foot on the blue circle in their line.

Now, both of your feet and hands as well as theirs are covering each circle on the mat.

Once again, Triple H spun the arrow.

"Left hand yellow!" Triple H announced.

You lifted your leg like a flamingo and replaced your foot with your hand covering a yellow circle, these wrestlers tried doing the same thing.

"Right hand red!", "Right foot green!", "Left foot yellow!" Triple H shouted afterwards, where your hands and feet as well as these other wrestler's feet and hands moved to different circles, replacing body parts and all of them trying to keep their balance and not fall down.

This seems like a good idea, but in actually, it really isn't.  

Your body was nudging against these wrestlers' naked bodies, although you were mainly nudging against the sides of their nude bodies.

When you were playing Twister, you wanted to lift one of your legs and trip someone hot but not sexy enough, Billy Gunn and Val Venis especially.

Though, Val and Billy are far away from you.

You want to have sex with Jeff Hardy or Christian tonight, but you also wouldn't mind it if you had an orgy on January 1st, 2000, or even on December 31st, 1999, the last day of the 20th Century and the 1st day of the 21st Century, 2000's decade and the new millennium in general.

You wish Triple H looked the way he did back at the beginning of 1998, that was the sexiest he's ever looked by far, and you wish Shawn Michaels was in the WWF tonight, so they could join you in this game.

You even wish Rob Van Dam was in the WWF now, he's so sexy and easily the sexiest man in ECW.

Sometimes, your hands and feet crossed over to circles that weren't lined up vertically in front of you, which mean these other wrestlers had to cross their hands and feet to other circles.

It's no fun when you can't let your hands and feet cross over to other circles that aren't lined up in a vertical line in front of you.

You and these other wrestlers were giggling and laughing throughout this Twister game, trying hard not to fall down and keep your balance.

Sometimes, your body was bending like a pretzel just for your hands and feet to reach and touch across a circle, so were these other wrestler's bodies, sometimes your bodies were getting entangled in one another.

Meanwhile, the majority of the WWF roster and partygoers were watching this naked Twister game, laughing their heads off.

They might want to play too.

Their laughter was distracting you as well as the rest of these other wrestlers you're playing with, and you and these wrestlers are trying to concentrate.

The man who won the game was Christian, thank goodness.

Epilogue: after you played naked Twister, you played another variation of naked Twister with these men, where this time, you shouted for these men to touch your breasts, hips, pussy, thighs, ass, etc. as quickly as they can, and the first man who touches a certain body part of yours

Later on, you played another version of naked Twister, where you grabbed these wrestlers you danced with as well as played Twister with by their body parts.

Then, you danced with these men again while they poured soda and alcohol on your naked body and they licked it all off, and you poured alcohol and soda on their naked bodies and licked it all off.

_______________________________________________________________

I typed this fanfic yesterday and wanted to post it yesterday, but didn’t have enough time, so I posted it today. 

[transmascfrankiero]

i know bullets day is almost over and all but real quick. i wanted to share some Thoughts. so bullets was the first CD i bought for myself with my own money and i still have it thirteen years after i bought it from borders. when i was growing up, the only way i could play music was on this ancient boombox i had, and for a long time the only mcr CD i had was bullets (until i eventually learned how to burn CDs). i spent the entire summer between seventh and eighth grade cooped up in my room, laying on the floor, and listening to bullets over and over on that shitty boombox until my mom made me shut it off at night. i was going through a lot that year - my mom got remarried to an abusive narcissist, i had to move to a new city, i didn’t have any friends, and in the fall i would have to start at a new school, where the only people i knew were my new step siblings who all hated me. bullets was really my lifeline through all of it. i felt understood knowing that someone else had also been that miserable and trapped and desperate to escape their life by any means necessary. and it was immensely comforting to know that gerard had made it out - that they all had. and they’d done it by doing what they loved, following their dream, by making art and never giving up on each other or themselves. it gave me hope that one day i could do the same. i know every word and drum hit and chord on bullets like i know my own heartbeat. whenever i get discouraged, whenever i feel like giving up, whenever i feel like i’m failing or falling behind or that i’ll never make it out, i put on bullets, and it reminds me that one way or another, i’m gonna be okay. i just have to have the courage to keep going. happy bullets day everyone <3