#it is time for my pink cowboy hat to shine

[sugarsnappeases]

chappell announced themessssss!!!!!!!! mine is pink pony club this is actually perfect news for me

[niallsgoldhoop]

CHANNING

a harry styles one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, alcohol, harsh language, spitting, spanking, choking,

“I can’t believe you almost missed this.” Looking over at me, the dark eyes of my closest friend shine under the overhead lights. “I mean, come on— It’s Harryween.”

Using my pinky to perfect the edge of the color as I look in the mirror, I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay well I couldn’t let this costume go to waste.”

“Honestly.” Adjusting the straps of her angel wings, she laughs. “It’s perfect.”

Tucking a lock of wavy copper hair behind my ear, the green foliage sewed to the leather top last minute contrasts against my porcelain skin in the best way.

As soon as the decision was made— the costume just happens to fall into place.

It took me less than a day to buy the ivy from a local craft store along with the needle and thread. Deep in the back of my closet there was a black leather corset, the kind that fastened in a line of delicate hooks up the front, one that pushed my breasts up even higher than normal. Pairing that with the black leather skirt that hit the middle of my thighs seemed like the only option that made sense.

Less than two hours sitting on my couch and watching Succession later and all of the ivy had been sewn into place. After a little maneuvering I even managed to turn the broad, verdant colored leaves to a makeshift garter for each of my thighs.

Standing here in this bathroom and looking at my reflection, the extra ivy twisting from the top of the high topped canvas sneakers on my feet, I can’t help but smile at how good it looks snaking over my toned calves and thick thighs.

Poison Ivy.

“We better get down to the pit before it gets too crazy.” With a wide smile on her face, I laugh along with her as her fingers tangle with mine, pulling me along. “If we’re lucky we can get close to the barricade.”

Staying close behind her, the two of us manage to squeeze through the sea of people, finding a spot in the pit good enough that we would be able to get a decent view.

I’d been to plenty of shows before but it felt like nothing compared to the pit at a Harry Styles show.

Even as the show eventually starts, it’s clear that everyone got the memo to dress up and seeing the man of the hour— I’m so glad this is where I ended up.

The way he looks tonight should be illegal.

The way he’s looking at me?

Criminal.

Up on the stage, I make eye contact with him again as he passes by, my body heating under his gaze for what feels like the millionth time.

“God, he keeps looking at you!” The girl with two boas and a pink cowboy hat next to me says, her eyes wide. “What the fuck?!”

I feel my lips as they turn into a smirk, raising my eyes back to the stage to see him in front of me again.

Being so close to the barricade was an accident. Somehow, someway we managed to make out way closer and closer as the night went on. Dancing with everyone around us all night has been the best part of the show.

Well… That and seeing Harry dressed in the most delicate and detailed costume.

A clown with the prettiest cream fabrics and lace along with the most perfect moon and stars offsetting the lighter colors with their darkness. Even his cheeks have the rosiest hue— complete with little pearl drops along his cheeks and above his brows.

Nothing too scary, but something just sexy enough.

As he plays the song everyone longs to hear, this time when lyrics roll off of his heart shaped lips in front of me, there’s no mistaking it.

‘And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you —‘

Eyes set on mine, he brings the tip of each finger to his flattened tongue, a tease of how he would certainly be able to please between the sheets.

Rolling my eyes as my best friend grabs my arm, her fingers pressing into the bare skin of my bicep, I find his gaze lingering before he moves on — deciding to entertain the other side of his stage before making his exit.

It feels like the scene of a documentary as the end of the show finally unfolds and people make their way from the stadium, a mass of people all looking for something to get them as high as the feeling Harry Styles gives them.

Laughing on the way out, I give the longest hugs that I can manage before slipping out into the night to find the small bar that has always welcomed me on a night like tonight.

A night when I’m not ready to dream quite yet.

Between the way the city never sleeps and the people out for their own version of tricks and treats, it feels like hours before I find what I’m looking for even if it’s not terribly far away from where I started.

Still dressed in the costume I threw together at the last minute, I don’t even find myself caring much about that. People from all across the city are dressed in various Halloween get ups— making it that much easier to blend in.

Even if the majority of my skin feels like it’s on display.

Smiling as I grip the door handle, it’s the large hand that covers mine that makes my heart race.

The anchor tattoo.

The mermaid.

The cross.

Turning on my heel, the same eyes that looked into mine in front of thirty thousand people trace over my face — over my freckles, over my cheekbones… Over my lips.

“It’s you.” Low and raspy, the accent drips off his lips as they turn into a sinister grin.

Rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I watch his eyes follow the movement as I press through the door and let him follow.

“It’s me.”

The bar is small and dimly lit, the best place to come if you don’t want to be found.

I’ve come here for years, a product of begging to be lost.

Turning my back on him, I make my way to the bar and sit on one of the stools, smiling as the bartender makes his way down to me. I can feel Harry’s presence as he slides onto the stool next to me, his thigh brushing against the skin of my thigh that my skirt doesn’t cover.

“Hey, babe.” Leaning over the bar and kissing my cheek, the familiar face behind the bar places a shot glass on the counter before filling it with tequila and placing a lime along the rim, sliding it to me. “How was your night?”

My face turns towards the man next to me, his features sharper in the low light as he studies me carefully before I look away from him with a shrug. “It was okay.”

A laugh falls from his lips as he leans into me, his lips brushing against my ear. “Okay? Is that all you have to say about me?”

“Maybe it is.” My shoulders lift in a shrug as I turn to face him, reaching for the shot and taking it, watching Harry as his eyes focus on my lips where I taste the lime. “Why? Are your feelings hurt?”

Catching the attention of the person behind the bar, those mossy eyes hold mine as he orders. “Can I please have four shots of tequila?”

“You alright with this guy, Chan?” Looking between the two of us, his eyes narrow in Harry’s direction.

I laugh. “We’re good. You can pull your best friend shit somewhere else.”

Rolling his eyes, he pours the shots out for the two of us. Leaving a small bowl of salt and limes before making his back to the other end of the bar.

“Chan?” Harry’s voice is rich and smooth, just like you always hear about. “Is that short for Chandler?”

I shake my head as I bring my hand up and flatten my tongue before running it across the back of my hand, eyes locked on his. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Watching my every move, his green eyes watch as I pinch salt between my fingers and let it fall to my skin.

“Should I?” Once again, I flatten my tongue across the same spot and taste the salt before picking up the small glass of liquor, tipping it back and letting it burn down my throat. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

Tension unlike I’ve ever known settled between us.

Somewhere my brain tells me to be careful, but the reckless part of me says that sometimes things are just meant to happen.

The odds of running into a man like him are practically zero. Yet here I am with flushed skin from the warmth of his proximity.

I reach for the lime but Harry beats me to it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and pressing the acidic fruit to my bottom lip, eyes begging for me to open for him.

“Suck.”

Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I flick my tongue across the broad side of the lime before wrapping my lips around it and following the simple instructions.

“So you do know how to listen.” Harry pulls his hand away from me before dropping the fruit back into the empty shot glass.

Tilting my head back, I laugh.

Pressing my hand on his thigh and leaning forward, this time my lips brush against his ear. “I only listen when I feel like it.”

“Hmm.” He hums as he leans back, eyes looking over my body. “Do you feel like listening tonight?”

I shake my head as he reaches for my hand and pulls me in close, his eyes burning through me as his tongue darts out and presses to my skin along my forearm. Holding me in place and using his other hand, he easily sprinkles the salt along my heated skin before flattening his tongue and tasting it.

My breath hitches in my throat as his fingers tip the glass back, taking the lime and holding it out for me. Taking the hint, I bite onto it and lean towards him letting him take it from me with a smug grin on his face. His lips brush against mine for only a moment before he leans away from me, sucking the juice out of the fruit to chase the bitter taste of the liquor. “Come on, tell me your name.”

“I’ll tell you on one condition.” Squeezing his thigh, I brush my lips against the base of his throat, smiling when I feel him swallow thickly.

“And what’s that?” Gripping my chin, Harry tilts my head backwards and grins at me, his notorious bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.

I roll my tongue along my bottom lip, watching as his eyes drop to my mouth. “You keep staring at my lips like you want them to do something.”

“Yeah?” His grip on my chin tightens. “What if I want to put them to work?”

I lick my bottom lip as my breathing shallows, giving Harry the opportunity to press his thumb into the small bowl of salt and brush it along my bottom lip. “I’d say you talk a lot for someone who hasn’t made a move yet.”

Harry’s eyes darken as he leans in, flicking his tongue along my bottom lip and tasting the salt. Reaching for one of the last two shots that he ordered, I watch as he pours the liquid into his mouth before using his thumb to pull on my bottom lip in a silent request.

Running my tongue along my lower lip and opening my mouth for him, I can’t even be bothered to be surrounded by other people or the sound that comes from the back of my mouth when he spits the liquor onto my waiting tongue.

Grabbing the lime and holding it against the skin of my throat, I’m almost embarrassed by the whimper that falls from my lips when he squeezes the wedge and his warm tongue catches the juice as it rolls down the column of my throat as I swallow.

“That’s right… Swallow for me, pretty girl.”

I can barely register his words before his lips are on mine and I can taste the flavor on his tongue as it finds mine, one of his hands sliding back into the waves at the nape of my neck and the other slipping just under the hem of my skirt and past the dark leaves of my costume.

He kisses me hard and with no abandon, as if he wants nothing more than to devour me. Leaning closer to him and hooking my finger into the waistband of his pants, I moan lightly when his teeth drag across my bottom lip.

“I need to get you alone.” He mumbles, his hand sliding along the inside of my thigh as his fingertips dance across my skin. “Need you on your knees while I watch those lips wrap around me.

I gasp when he drops his lips to my neck, nipping and sucking my skin. “There’s a private bathroom in the office— fuck, down the hall.”

Leaving the last shot, Harry takes my hand and pulls me towards the hallway that leads us in the right direction. With his arms wrapping around my body from behind, once we stop just long enough for me to punch in the code for the keypad I can feel him hard and ready behind me.

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to take you right fucking here.” Nipping my earlobe, Harry plays with the hem of my skirt as his hand grips my throat and turns my head to the side, giving him more access. “How many ways are you going to let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Fuck.” Punching the last number into the keypad, when it beeps twice and I turn the handle, it opens easily.

We barely make it into the room and slam the door before Harry turns on me, pressing my body into the door and pressing his thigh between my legs, pinning me in place.

His mouth is on mine in a messy and hungry kiss all while his hands take their time exploring my body. From my breasts to my ass, not one place goes unnoticed by his skilled hands.

“This fucking costume.” Bringing the skin at the base of my throat between his teeth only to soothe it with his tongue, I shiver when he drags his finger along the top of the ivy, digging behind it enough to trace my skin. “People think that it’s so bright on stage and that I can’t see, but I do — I fucking see everything.”

Kissing under my jaw, his hands work the hooks that line the front of the top, one by one. “Tell me what you saw, Harry.

“You want to know?” Dragging his tongue across the swell of my breasts, I reach up and run my nails across his scalp, making him moan. “I saw you, dressed in this—“ Releasing the last button and letting the top of the corset fall to the floor, Harry cups both of my breasts and squeezes them, pinching each nipple at the same time. “I watched you dance, seeing your perfect ass sway from side to side like you didn’t give a single fuck that I was on that stage.”

Dropping down, Harry runs his tongue across the sensitive peak a moment before taking it between his teeth, pulling back enough to make me gasp. “I didn’t— I was more of a Niall girl—”

“Beautiful and bratty, huh?” His fingers find my throat as I smile, pressing into my skin just enough that my lips part on an exhale from the rush. “The only name that's going to come off your lips tonight is mine.”

“You seem so—.” My thoughts all but disappear when I feel Harry reach down and slip his hand under the tight material of my skirt after tracing the edge of the garter along my thighs.

Taking my nipple back into his mouth and teasing, he pulls back to look at me as his knuckle presses into my clit over the fabric of my underwear. “I seem so what, Chan? You won’t even tell me your name yet here you are — dripping down the inside of your thighs for me.”

“So full of yourself.” I finally get out. “Maybe you really are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Pushing the fabric aside, Harry doesn’t even pace himself, sliding two fingers deep inside of me and making me cry out as his thumb circles my clit with so much pressure it borders pain. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Harry—“ I moan.

Curling his fingers, I feel like my body is on overdrive as he works an orgasm out of my body quicker than even I’ve been able to do it. . “Come on my fingers for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Reaching out and gripping his shoulders, I can see the dark evergreen of his eyes just on the rim of his blown out pupils under the lights as his breath comes out shallow, the muscles under his skin flexing as he works me even harder through my orgasm.

Once my body loses all of the tension I tip forward into Harry’s arms with a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Yeah? That good?” He smirks as he wraps my hair around his fist. Once, twice. “Chan, I need to ask you something.”

I nod, my eyes the only things he’s focused on. “Now you want to ask questions?”

“I’m serious.” His nose brushes mine before he places a soft kiss to my lips, a complete contrast to the way he just coaxed a release from my body. “I need to know that if you don’t like something or you want me to stop that you’ll tell me, okay?”

I nod, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, taking my time to enjoy the way his tongue feels moving with mine. “I promise.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes burn into my features looking for any sign of hesitance.

“I’m sure.” Getting impatient, I nip his bottom lip. “Now, are you going to fuck me or stand here and be a gentleman all night? Which one is it?”

“Such a fucking mouth on you.” Flexing his hand in my hair and pulling tighter, there’s no option but for me to sink to my knees as Harry guides me. “I hope you know how to use it for more than just your attitude.”

Sitting back on my heels, I lick my lips. “Only one way to find out.”

“Go on then.” Nodding towards his straining cock beneath the fabric of his pants, he waits for me to undo the button. “Let me watch you choke on my cock so that you can’t talk back to me.”

When my hands finally free him, I whimper at the same time Harry’s groan fills the small office. Leaking with precome, I flick the tip of my tongue to collect the pearly drops.

“Pinch my thigh if it gets to be too much, yeah?” Using his hand that doesn’t still have my hair wrapped around his fist, he cups my jaw and runs his thumb across my cheek as I nod. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me.”

Taking Harry into my mouth, I wish I could take a picture of how he looks from this angle. His head tilts back as a moan curves around his lips, I swear to god I’ve never seen anything sexier in my entire life. Pushing his hips forward slowly, I hollow my cheeks as I use my tongue to feel every single ridge and vein he has to offer me. My hands rest on his thighs as he drops his head down and meets my gaze.

“I’m going to go harder, is that okay?” With his cock still in my mouth, I nod. “Good fucking girl, good girl.”

Harry pushes his thighs even deeper, groaning at the feeling of his cock sliding down the back of my throat and making the muscles constrict around him from the intrusion. It feels like so much pressure and not enough at the same time as he repeats the action. Tears form in my waterline as I choke over and over, the tears spilling out onto my cheeks.

“See how good you're taking my cock down your pretty little throat?” Sliding his hand from my cheek, I moan around him as his hand rests across my throat. “Fuck, are you going to swallow for me?”

I choke once more, nodding.

“Good.”

It’s one word that precedes his release, one that I make good on my promise and swallow every drop of.

Once Harry pulls back, I take a deep breath and look up to him for only a moment before he pulls me to my feet and spins us around. Lifting me up and sitting me onto the desk, stepping between my legs and tracing his fingers over the edges of the ivy still wrapped around me.

Instantly his lips are on mine, groaning at his own tastes as he reaches between my legs and pushes the material of the leather skirt up, his fingers finding the sensitive nerve at the apex of my thighs as my hips roll forward to meet the friction.

“Are you this wet for me?” Lips ghosting over mine, his fingers find my nipple, pinching. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, please.” I say, looking into his eyes as he brings his fingers up, smearing the arousal across my bottom lip before kissing me again.

It’s impossible not to feel crazed as his hands fall to my thighs and push up my skirt, watching as it bunches up around my hips. “Lay back for me.”

Placing his hand in the center of my chest, I fall back onto the desk and whimper when I feel his warm lips leaving lingering kisses along the inside of my thighs.

“Look at you, so willing to let me do whatever I want with you tonight. I don’t even want to unwrap this pretty package you’ve put on for me.” His breath ghost across my center, the anticipation making me feel like I could explode at any minute. “I guess I got lucky— finding you on a night where you want to listen. A night where you want to be told what to do. Am I right?”

Harry doesn’t give the time to formulate an answer, his tongue immediately pressing into my clit before sucking it into his mouth. The action takes me by surprise as my back arches off the desk and my hands search for anything to hold onto.

Dragging patterns across the nerve, I cry out his name as he devours me like he’s never done before. As he releases my clit, his tongue finds my entrance and makes a languid path through my arousal before reaching the place I want him the most.

Up and down.

Side to side.

The stimulation makes my thighs shake as he tugs my hips toward him until my ass hangs off the desk and he pulls my dripping cunt even further into his face.

“Harry, fuck.” My hands flip, nails digging into the wood of the desk no doubt leaving marks. “Right there, fuck. I’ve never— never been so close so fast—“

Pushing myself up to my elbows, I let my head roll back as Harry rolls my clit between his teeth before pulling back, delivering a harsh slap to my outer thigh.

“Do you want to come for me?” Pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee, he raises a brow in my direction and smirks when I nod. “If you want to come for me— if you’re going to scream my name— you’re going to watch me as you do it. You’re going to watch me devour you like my last meal, do you understand?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, resisting the urge to roll my head back when he immediately finds my clit and brings two fingers to my entrance, pushing them in and finding my g-spot.

“Harry.” His name falls off my lips like a prayer as he keeps his eyes on mine. “Please, please let me come. I need it, I—

I feel it as my body gives into the pleasure Harry so willingly gives.

My back arches, my breast pushing up into the air and not even a sound is able to pour from my mouth. Reaching out to grasp something and knocking a cup of pens onto the floor behind me, I cry out.

“Let everyone know who makes you feel this good.” Standing up, Harry looks down at me as he fists his cock in his hand. “I need to be inside of you right fucking now.”

“Condom?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.

Harry reaches behind him and grabs his wallet, pulling one out and ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on his length. “Tell me what you want? Hard? Soft?”

“Give me what nobody else can, don’t fucking hold back.” I grit out, feeling him run his cock along my clit. “Prove to me that you can fuck as good as everyone thinks you can.”

Harry smiles down at me only a moment before thrusting his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible, making me scream out for him. “How’s that for a start? You’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Harry!” I cry. “I need it just like that, so deep.”

Pulling his hips back, Harry leans over to kiss me as he thrusts again, the power behind it pushing the desk forward an inch. “Yeah? You like feeling like this? Feeling so fucking full that you can’t stand it. Fuck, you take my cock so fucking well, so fucking well.”

“You’re so big, shit.” I moan, my head lolling to the side as his hands spread across my waist and grip me before slamming into me. “God. It feels so— so fucking good.”

“You can take it.” Harry moans above me, his eyes going back and forth between my face to where he disappears inside of me, watching as I take every inch of him. “It feels like this was made for me. So tight, so warm.”

“Please, I need more—“

At my words alone, Harry pulls out and pulls me off the desk and turns me around. Pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, he bends me over the desk before pushing my skirt back up around my waist and grips the waistband to hold me in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” Peering at him over my shoulder, I open my mouth on a breathless moan when his hand cracks across the left side of my ass — quickly followed by the right. “Did you need me to fuck you from behind so I could spank you like this? Huh?”

I feel Harry as he slowly pushes his hips forward, filling me. Listening to his moans as they bounce off the walls, my own whimpers mix with the sound. Gripping my hips, he takes his time as he works so slow — each inch more agonizing than the last before his hips press against my ass.

“Are you going soft on me back there?” Looking at him over my shoulder, I smirk when fire flashes behind his eyes. “Is the guy from the bar all of a sudden gone?”

Harry rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before raising his hand and delivering a harsh slap, one that’s sure to leave his handprint behind.

“I know you fucking like that, don’t you? You’re squeezing my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.” Fingers digging into my hips, I moan when he pulls me back onto his cock and buries himself even deeper. “Tell me — tell me I'm the best you’ve ever had.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, I try to ground myself as Harry brushes against my g-spot with every single thrust, the pull in the base of my spine getting so strong that I don’t know how much longer I'll be able to hold out.

“I’ve neve been fucked like this.” I cry. “Nobody has ever, ever made me feel so fucking good.”

My eyes roll back as Harry presses his fingers against my clit and works them in time with his trusts, making me push up onto the tips of my toes in search of the release that isn’t far off.

“Like that, oh my god.” Panting, I meet him thrust for thrust as he fucks me harder and harder. “I'm so close.”

“Come on pretty poison girl, soak my cock for me.” Gripping the back of my neck, Harry presses me into the desk and gives me everything he has until my body gives up, releasing around him. “Fuck. you feel so good when you come around me like that. So damn good.”

Slowing his rhythm, Harry sweeps my hair off of my back and leans over me, pressing kisses up the curve of my spine. “Harry.”

“Yes?” His voice is soft as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You are incredible.”

“One more.” The words fall from my lips even though I know that I'm so fucked, that I know I won’t last much longer. “I want one more.”

Stopping his movements, I feel Harry chuckle. “You think you can handle me again?”

“I want to see you.” I say, my eyes darting toward the door of the bathroom. “Let me watch you come undone over me.”

Harry grins as he pulls out, the loss of him more than I expected. “I never would have guessed the woman in the crowd would be able to fuck me so well.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate people, Harry.” I walk in front of him, listening to the way he moans when he sees my own release dripping down the inside of my thighs. “Do you like what you see?”

“Fuck.” Running his hand through his curls. He looks freshly fucked and I can’t wait to finish him. “Let me see you.”

Stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light, the sleek and modern design is perfect. Turning, Harry steps close and finds my lips with his, taking his time to kiss me as his hands once again wander my body.

When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I let my head tilt back. “Come on. Give me what I want.”

“So fucking needy.” Harry responds, turning me around and pinning me against the counter. “Bend over, you pretty slut.” Pressing my ass out and shaking it from side to side, I cry out when Harry strikes his palm across each cheek. “How many?”

The tone in his voice makes me moan. “Fuck.”

“I said—“ Cracking down his palm again, he steps up behind me, pushing just his tip inside of my throbbing center. “How many.”

“Until you think I’ve had enough.”

I arch my back when he thrusts forward, his hand connecting with my ass even harder. “What if I never get enough. huh?”

“Harry—“

“What if I'm starting to think one night isn’t enough for me?” He thrusts so deep and I’m so sensitive that it feels so good, I clench around him. “Fuck, when you grip my cock like that I never want to leave — I could fuck you all damn night.”

I moan as I meet his gaze in the mirror, looking at the tattoos on his arms as he slides his hands up my back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back onto his cock. “Don’t say that.”

“What? Don’t say that I want you?” Bringing his palm against my skin, his gaze locks on mine. “This— fuck, this isn’t normal.”

“What?” I ask, biting my bottom lip and letting my head fall forward. “What isn’t—”

“Feeling like this after one night.” Thrusting into me so hard that I scream, I feel tears in my eyes over the way my body feels ready to give into him again. “I’ve never had sex like this, never fucked anyone this good.”

I let my head fall to the side as my cheek presses against the cool counter, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the small room. “That’s because you've never been with someone like me before.”

“Fuck—“ Harry is relentless as he searches for his release. “I need you to come for me again, please.”

Begging me, his eyes are hazy as he looks at me, gaze looking with mine until with one thrust, my body shatters around his. “Harry!”

“Oh, shit—“

I watch as his head rolls back and his body stills for just a moment before his hips slowly guide in and out of me, riding us through the orgasms we’ve given each other.

“There you go, pretty girl.” Running his hands up and down my back. I take a deep breath. “You’re so fucking good. So good, Chan.”

I take a deep breath as I try to center myself. “Harry, that was—“

Resting his forehead between my shoulder blades, his warm breath skates across my skin. “I didn’t know it would be like that when I saw you tonight, the woman dressed with ivy across her body— that the vines would wrap around me and pull me in.”

“I don’t know why you’re the surprised one.” I say, wetting my lips. “You’re the one that showed up here. How?”

Harry pulls out, a whimper falling from my lips at the loss of him. “I don’t know… I wanted to get a drink somewhere where I wouldn’t feel like Harry Styles — I wanted to go somewhere small and local.”

“And you ended up here?” I ask, looking up at him from under my lashes.

Grabbing a hand towel, Harry presses a kiss to my temple before running it under warm water and hoisting me onto the counter, laughing as I wince.

“I ended up here.” He smiles as he reaches his hand between my legs, kissing me when I gasp as he runs the warm cloth over my sensitive clit.

We both look at each other and it’s almost like Harry can’t help it when he leans down to kiss me, taking his time as his hands come up to cup my cheeks.

“Let’s get you dressed, okay?” He speaks the words against my lips but makes no move to let me off the counter to grab my top. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

I laugh. “Come on, we have to get out of here before someone comes in.”

“I hope they do.” kissing down the side of my neck, Harry rests his forehead against my collarbone. “I need everyone to know I was with you — that you’ve been fucked you harder than you ever have in your life.”

Resting my hand in the middle of his chest, I push him backwards and hop off the counter on shaky legs, Harry laughing as he rests his hands on my hips to guide me back into the office.

“Here, let me help you.” It’s a sweet gesture to see a man like him help me back into my top, watching as he uses all of his concentration to make sure every hook gets fastened properly while he doesn’t disturb the leaves.

“Thank you… For tonight.” I say, looking over his features. “I really had a good time.”

Harry smiles and brushes a lock of hair from off my face. “I did too.”

I give him one last smile, reaching for the door handle.

Before I turn it, Harry reaches for my hand, turning me and pressing me into the door one last time, finding my lips with his own.

Unlike most of the kisses tonight, this one is so slow, so gentle.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but I need to be able to see you again — I don't know what my brain is doing to me, but I just know that I need it.” The look in his eyes is so full of hope, so soft. “I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Here.” I hold my hand out, hoping he gets the hint.

When he does, he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. I easily put my name and number in before giving it back to him, watching his lips curl up with a grin.

“Channing?” Looking from his phone to me, I smile as my hand grips the doorknob and finally push it open.

I wink at him as I step out into the hall. “It’s me.”

He steps forward and grips my hip one last time. bringing his lips down to mine.

“It’s you.”

💖

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Boothill x SingleParent!Reader: Lassos and Lullabies Chpt. 2

Previous part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boothill found himself looking forward to that Sunday. He didn’t have another job lined up for another couple weeks, so miraculously he had the time to help out. He was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to flirt with Y/N, but the thought of seeing Charlotte again made up for it.

He arrived at Y/N’s apartment at around two o’clock to find her scrambling. Her hair was messy, and she had a frazzled look in her eyes when she opened the door. Instantly her shoulders dropped in relief. “Boothill, thank God you’re here. I’m so so sorry to dump this on you right when you just got here, but Lottie was not very fond of the vegetable soup I made for lunch and I’ve really gotta get going now or I’m gonna be late. I managed to clean up the table and floor, but she desperately needs a bath.”

He gave her a good-natured smile. “Easy, easy, no need to be sorry. You head on out, I’ll take care of it.”

She let out a relieved sigh, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I could seriously kiss you right now.”

He grinned wolfishly and tipped his hat at her. “From a pretty lady like you? I wouldn’t say no.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she cracked a smile. “Oh stop it. But seriously, thank you. Here’s the spare key.” She reached into her purse and fetched a keychain with a bright pink pompom on it, handing it to him. “I should be home around eight or nine tomorrow morning. Good luck!” And with that, she was out the door, leaving him alone with Charlotte.

“Hoo-boy, well lookee here,” he said, taking in the sight of Charlotte absolutely drenched in soup, little vegetable pieces sticking in her hair. “Your momma worked hard on that soup, y’know. Whatcha doing spillin’ it all over yerself for?”

She bounced in her highchair, clapping her hands excitedly. “Hat! Hat!”

He chuckled, kneeling down to her level. “Is that all I am to you, little missy? Tell you what, you take a bath without fussin’, and I’ll let you wear my hat again, okay?”

“Hat! Gow-boy hat!” She seemed to get even more excited at that idea, waving her chubby hands in the air towards him.

He laughed. Oh she was just precious. “Yer right, little lady, it is a cowboy hat. Now c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He picked her up out of her highchair and set her down on the floor. She started to waddle down the hallway.

He grinned. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He thought wrong.

It was one thing to draw a bath, it was another thing to get a squirmy toddler in it. He thought he was home free once he managed to wrangle her out of her clothes, but then she slipped out of his hold (still slippery with soup all over her) and made a mad dash around the apartment butt naked.

The sound of her little feet slapping against the hardwood and her delighted squeals rang through the apartment, followed by the much less endearing sound of Boothill’s metal boots clanking as he chased after her. Damn, he’d forgotten how fast little kids were. He stood with his arms and legs out like a goalie, cornering her in her bedroom. “End of the line, little lady.”

Usually when he said something like that, it struck fear into the hearts of his enemies (well, usually it was accompanied by a bullet between the eyes), but Charlotte just giggled.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “This a game to you, missy?”

She giggled louder. “Game!”

“Oh yeah, this is real fun for you, ain’t it?” And despite the situation, he couldn’t deny that he was having a bit of fun too.

She tried to dash around him, but he caught her right at the last second before she could get away, scooping her up in his arms to the tune of her excited little shrieks. He made sure to hold onto her tightly, so she didn’t wiggle away again. “Yer harder to catch than some ‘a my bounties, little lady.” He carried her off to the bathroom and finally, finally managed to get her in the bath. Once she was in, everything was peachy keen—she was too distracted by the bubbles and rubber duckies to try slipping away again. Water plus intricate circuitry usually didn’t mix well, but luckily he’d had his mechanic give him a waterproof coating after a job landed him on an island in the middle of an ocean, so as long as there were no exposed wires, he’d be fine.

His phone dinged right after he finished washing the shampoo out of her hair. He smiled as he saw who it was.

Hot Momma: Is everything okay? Did you get her to take her bath?

He snapped a quick photo of Charlotte in the bath putting suds on her rubber ducky’s head like a soapy crown. He sent it to Y/N with the message:

Doing fine and dandy. She ran from me a bit, but I managed to catch the little rascal.

A few seconds later she responded with nearly a dozen heart emojis. Precious! Pls send more pics when you can.

Will do. Aren’t you driving? Eyes on the road, dollface.

Haha you caught me. At a stoplight. Tell Lottie I miss her already!

He sent a thumbs up before tucking his phone back in his pocket and relating the message to Charlotte, who was far too absorbed in playing with her ducks to care.

He finished giving her her bath and helped her dry off and get dressed. She reached her arms up toward him, jumping up on her tip toes. “Gow-boy hat!”

Boothill chuckled, endeared by her pronunciation of ‘cowboy.’ “You still wanna wear my hat? I think our deal was you’d get to wear the hat if you took yer bath without fussin’.” He ruffled her still-damp hair, causing her to giggle. “Buuuut, I think I can make an exception for ya, just this once.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head, tipping the brim back so she could still see.

She jumped up and down, babbling happily. “Gow-boy, gow-boy!” She ran off out of the bathroom, laughing her little head off.

He smiled fondly, lazily following her with his hands in his pockets. “Where’re you runnin’ off to, little lady?” He peeked his head into her bedroom to find her playing with a stuffed horse, waving it up and down in the air like it was galloping.

She ran up to him with her plush horse, holding it up to him. “Pony! Gow-boy and pony!”

He kneeled down to her level, a wide grin on his face. “You like horses do ya, little missy? Yer on yer way to bein’ a bonafide cowboy already.”

“Play ponies! Ponies and gow-boys!” she chirped in her adorable little voice, waving the stuffed horse in front of him.

He chuckled, taking the pony from her. “Yes ma’am, ponies an’ cowboys it is.” He made a sound like a braying horse and shook the stuffed pony in the air, pretending it was rearing back on its hind legs.

Charlotte’s face broke out into a wide, toothy smile as she erupted into a torrent of giggles and squeals. Boothill wasn’t completely sure what a game of ponies and cowboys entailed, but Charlotte seemed to be satisfied with him just waving the pony in the air and making horse sounds.

After a while of playing, she reached her grabby hand up towards him again, the other adjusting his hat on her head that kept falling in her face. “Up! Up!”

He complied, easily hooking his hands under her legs and scooping her up into a piggyback carry. He carried her around the apartment, stomping around and neighing. The sound of her laughter in his ears made his chest feel full in a way it hadn’t since he’d lost his daughter. He could practically feel his circuits and servos thrumming with warm energy.

Even though Charlotte reminded him a lot of his daughter, he was beginning to notice a few key differences. Firstly, while his daughter had been more of the rough and tumble type of kid, Charlotte was a bit of a girly-girl. Along with playing cowboys, she wanted to play dress-up and have a tea party with all her stuffed animals (most of which were horses, he noticed). She asked him to braid her hair, though not in so many words, and he did his best to make sure her beautiful curls didn’t get caught in his mechanical joints. He was pretty proud with how it turned out, despite him being so out of practice. She seemed pleased with it too, swinging her head around and watching her two long braids swish to and fro.

Another difference was that Charlotte was picky. He supposed he got lucky with his little girl—for all her orneriness, she ate whatever you put in front of her. Charlotte not so much. He should’ve been prepared for a battle at dinnertime, what with the soup incident at lunch, but he didn’t expect to get pelted with dino nuggies.

He begged and pleaded and bargained with her, even offered to let her wear his hat again, but for the life of him he could not get her to eat her dinner. He didn’t want to bother Y/N with something that he should be able to easily handle on his own, especially not when she was at a work conference, but he was starting to run out of options.

Then he got an idea. “Hey little missy, do you wanna play a game?”

“Game! Game!” she cheered, bouncing in her highchair.

He grinned. “Yeah ya do. Here’s what we’re gonna play—we’re gonna play another cowboy game. Y’know cowboys got a lotta animals, doncha?”

She perked right up at the mention of cowboys. “Gow-boys! Naminals!”

He bit back a laugh. Gosh darn it, she was just too cute. “Yeah lotsa naminals. Well this cowboy—” He pointed a thumb towards himself. “Has got a lotta dinosaurs.” He pointed down towards the dino nuggies that were still on her plate instead of halfway across the room. “An’ yer trap right there is their pen. Can ya help me get all my dinos back in their pen?”

She clapped and squeezed, suddenly excited at the prospect of eating her dinner.

It was all smooth sailing from there. All he had to do was make some silly noises as he pretended to wrangle the dino nuggets and she ate them with no complaints. He’d always been told growing up that you shouldn’t play with your food, but surely he could make an exception for this case.

Soon after dinner it was time to put her down for bed. Boothill had to admit, he was pretty worn out from the day, and he could’ve used a nap himself. Charlotte didn’t seem to agree with him, however. He sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation. “C’mon, Lottie, we’ve been playin’ all day. Aren’tcha even a little tired?”

She shook her head defiantly. “No! No bedtime!”

Well this was a pickle. He’d never raise his voice at a child, not in a million years, but he couldn’t deny he was starting to get frustrated. He wracked his brain, trying to think of things that helped put his little one to sleep when she was being fussy. Then it hit him. When Y/N gave him her tour of the apartment, he noticed an old acoustic guitar sitting on a stand in the back of her bedroom. Surely she wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it for a spell.

He'd given up playing long ago, but it felt like only yesterday when he started tuning the pegs. It sounded a little tinny when he plucked the strings, the sound reverberating through his metal hands, but he could live with it. He’d sworn he’d never play again on that fateful day all those years ago, but if it helped Lottie sleep… he could make another exception for her, just this once.

She looked up at him curiously as he sat down on the couch, idly stumming the guitar. Even if he didn’t have many muscles left to remember with, his hands still easily fell into place picking an old song that Nick used to play for him when he was a tot. Charlotte climbed up onto the couch and sat on his lap. She blinked up at him with big, owlish eyes as she listened to the music, and a smile formed on his lips. Well, he’d gotten her to sit still, that was an accomplishment if nothing else.

Charlotte leaned back against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, and he continued to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door opening and closing caused Boothill’s eyes to blink open. The guitar hung loosely from his hand, propped up against the couch, his other arm curled around Charlotte’s sleeping form. He let go of the guitar and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, finding Y/N standing in front of him with a warm smile on her face. “Y/N…?” he mumbled, voice still raspy from sleep. One quick glance out the window revealed it was still dark out. “Thought ya weren’t gonna be back till mornin’…”

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” she whispered as she set her purse down on the table, careful not to wake up Charlotte. “But I couldn’t spend the night away from her, even if I knew you were watching her.” Her eyes flicked down to where Charlotte was huddled up against him, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her gaze softened as she looked back up at him. “I see now I shouldn’t have worried.” She approached, lightly stroking Charlotte’s hair. “Thank you for watching her, Boothill. I know it’s late, feel free to spend the rest of the night if you’d like.”

He was about to mumble out something about not wanting to impose, but the feeling of her soft lips brushing against his cheek shut him up real quick. She gently picked up Charlotte and carried her off to her room, leaving him dumbfounded, his face burning red.

Sleeping on the couch never felt quite so good.

[gggoldfinch]

Pls finch just a sip of what youre cookin....please im dying.....a toiny snippet

ANONNN im sorry to tell you but so far it's just outline, no substantial writing yet. I can give you a sneak peek from that outline, however 🤧 Sometimes I have to draft full ideas while writing bullet points and they get away from me 🤡 (which does make it easier to write the final piece bc I can just copy/paste and expand upon ideas from the outline. Just an unsolicited tidbit of info about my writing process lol). Go easy on me 🙏🏻 they're not nearly polished snippets:

He’s dressed like one of those ‘cow-boys’ she’d seen in movies from a time before her grandparents’ great-grandparents. The broad-brim hat on his head is fascinating and she can see small metal stars sticking off the heels of his boots around which vegetables are strewn. The stars jingle when he moves— as he pivots towards her, holding a gun close to his hip, aimed at her gut. It’s small and compact, nothing like her father’s rifle. She isn’t paying attention to his gun, though. Her shocked gasp is uncontainable when his face is revealed from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.  Her feet involuntarily bring her a step backward and her face morphs into a mask of intrigue and horror. The man’s skin is taut and gnarled, pink and thick like scar tissue. Her mother’s palm had scarred like that when she’d grabbed the handle of a hot pan and scorched a layer of skin clean off. The triangle of his features is gaunt and harrowing— eyes sunken, an arrowhead-shaped hole where the nose should be.  “Well howdy there,” he calls out. His accent isn’t like one she’s ever heard, his syllables elongated and slurred together. He juts the gun out towards her more directly and the patinated silver shines dully in the sunlight.

I guess I'll also note that this one will be in third person (obv), and can be read as either Reader or OFC (I've been moving away from xReaders lately but want to make it palatable...)

Also, hehe,

Later that night she approaches him curiously, cautiously. She decided earlier that the man is exciting and new. He’s dark and mysterious, gruff and hardened by a world she cannot fathom outside her door. His grotesque appearance strangely adds to his allure; she thinks he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. He's the first man she’s interacted with on her own and as a grown woman— an opportunity to test her curiosity, if he is open to it. She wants his calloused, scarred hands to touch her like the women in the magazine. She stands between his spread knees and takes the hat from the couch cushion beside him, placing it on her own head and meaning it this time.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Ride — 🔞

Description; This is just smut 👀 Eddie and Steve meet in the hayloft

Warning; this is my first time writing smut in a very long time so don’t expect steamy lmao

Eddie was chewing on a piece of straw as he lays back on the small pile of hay that laid in the small corner of the barn. He could hear the animals moving around in their own stalls and on a occasion he would randomly start talking to one of them. Shockingly getting some form of response back. A weird noise, or a wall being kicked.

Wearing a black flannel over a band t-shirt that was slightly tucked into a pair of black ripped skinny jeans he was the complete opposite of what the other help looked like. That and he was supposed to be gone a hour ago. Instead he was hidden in the farm waiting for his boy. Smirking to himself he hears footsteps coming towards him. He tilts his head up lazily and has a grin on his face as he catches sight of Steve. Who was currently wearing skinny blue jeans, cowboy boots, a button up flannel and a cowboy hat.

No words are exchanged as Eddie moves to stand up. Picking up his own hat that he had bought as a joke. Placing it on top of his curls as he chews on the straw a bit more excitedly. Silently following the other up to the old hay loft that was now abandoned . Eddie would most times call it the gay loft knowing it would cause a pretty blush on his lovers face. Carefully they both walked up the creaky steps. Eddies already starting to unbutton his belt. The clinks of the chains the only noises heard from the upstairs. There was a occasional noise coming from a bird but it was easily ignored.

Humming Eddie watches Steve turn around and let his persona go. Each limb relaxing and the metalhead swears up and down that he sees light starting to shine from the other when he stops putting a show on. Even though they’ve only been at this for a month, each time when the other smiled like he is now it causes Eddie to stumble a bit. Watching the remaining sunlight hit his boys face. Scratch that, watching his world shine brighter then the actual sun. Each time Eddie makes a fool of himself it only causes the others smile to turn into a cocky grin, like it is now as Steve moves forward pulling the other closer. Taking ahold of the others belt loops as he gets up close and personal. Both their hats bumping against each other their faces going pink from happiness before Steve quickly pulls his own off and tosses it to the side carelessly.

Eddie moves to do the same but Steve stops him. Carefully taking it from the other and setting it over his own hair before he moves forward kissing the other. The kiss is gentle and sweet before it turns sloppy and desperate. Somehow they went from being on both of their feet to now Eddie’s crawling between the others legs. Hands roaming the others body as they kiss. His hat had fallen off the others head in a rush but neither of them cared. They both lazily laid on-top of a blanket that was kept up here for occasions like this. It was of course taken and washed over night to only return mysteriously after lunch the day after. A routine that would never change.

Zippers are being pulled down along with pants and boxers. Shirts are being pulled off and tattoos are revealed. Hands not leaving each other before the first words are spoken. “I want you to ride me like you ride one of your horses big boy.” A cocky grin is plastered on Eddie’s face as he rolls over to lay on his back. Seeing how stunned Steve looked. Though he moves getting up as he gets on his knees and straddles the other. Looking down with a smile as he places his hands on the others vline. Tracing it carefully before he presses down a little and starts to move his hands up the others body. Squeezing the others stomach a little as he appreciated the others chub. Carefully moving to trace one of the others tattoos as he moves his lips down to had his own mark on the others skin. Eddie gasps as he laughs gently. Enjoying the slight pain, but the others hair always tickled his skin.

“Come on Stevie, don’t have all night.” Eddie hums as he slaps the others ass playfully. Hopping to get him moving. Steve jumps at the sting before he pouts playfully as he moves over to the others pants. Pulling the lube and condom out. He’s then moving to get the other situated against his rim before Eddie’s stopping him. Winking as he gets his fingers lubed up and presses them against the others entrance. Refusing to go further as he grins up at the other teasingly. “Want to see your muscles work baby, come on use my fingers love. Last I checked I’m dating a buff cowboy not some pillow princess.” He teases as Steve’s face goes pink. Moving his hips as he starts to press down on the other.

He bites his lip as he focuses on getting the right angle, not expecting Eddie to curl up or spread his fingers apart. A deep airy moan leaves him as he leans forward a bit. Placing his hands on the others shoulders to keep balance. Eddies watching the other with dark eyes and he refuses to move from his spot. Helping the other stretch open for him. He nearly combusts on the spot when he hears that soft voice crack steve gets when he’s feeling to much. They haven’t even gotten to the main event yet.

Smirking Eddie pulls his fingers out carefully as Steve rides air for a second. Whining as he looks down at the other a bit grumpily. Eddie grins shrugging as it to say, “well what are you going to do?” Moving he places his hand up not even bothering to wipe it off as he places both hands behind his head. He wouldn’t be surprised to find lube in his hair later. Steve grunts as he gathers himself together. Getting the other situated before he’s lining the other up and he’s sliding down the other.

Crickets are starting to come out and the moon is replacing the sun as Steve carefully sits down on the other completely. Eddie doesn’t move once. “Eddie.” He whines in complaint as he sees the other closing his eyes. Treating this as if nothing was happening. God was he a dick sometimes.

“Stevie boo.” Eddie whines right back. It’s starting to get dark. The feeling of the other wrapped around him was overwhelming, and he knows that if he opens his eyes and doesn’t just focus on how the other feels and sounds like he was going to get overstimulated in a good way. Steve huffs a little as if he wasn’t a grown man sitting on his dick. Eddie smiles amused before he feels the other nearly knock the wind out of him. His eyes are flying open and his hands are jumping to the others hips with a slight gasp.

“Jesus Christ!”

Steve lets a laugh go, it was deep and shook his chest. Looking down at the other with a amused look. He moves forward a bit acting as if he was going to kiss him but instead he snatches the others abandoned cowboy hat and slides it on his head with a proud smirk. Eddies going to try and say something but the other is pulling up and forcing himself down on the other with just as much force as he did before. Eddies whining in pleasure as he grips the others hips.

“What baby am I going to rough for you? Thought you wanted me to ride you like a horse?” Steve laughs towards the end starting to move his hips as he places one hand on the others shoulder and the other on his hat. Winking at the other playfully acting as if he was riding a bull. Eddie’s face is pink and sometimes he forgets who he’s fucking with. Little moans leaving him as he watches the other pretty starstruck.

What gets him going even more is how Steve suggestively rolls his hips. “Oh baby.” He moans as he tilts his head back into the blanket. Eyes closing as his mouth falls open a little bit. He whimpers as he lets the other use him. They are both sweating equally as they both start to chase their orgasms.

“It looks like you may be the pillow princess here love.” Steve jokes sounding like he was out of breath. Eddie grunts in response taking this as a challenge and quickly flips them around. Steve’s thighs wrapping around the others waist as he pushes up into the other at a rough pace. Steve’s getting louder as his hands claw at the others back, listening to Eddies soft pants in his ear. They were driving each other mad.

Biting on to the others shoulder that’s how Eddie releases into the condom. Still fucking into the other through the overstimulation. Steve’s back arches a bit as his muscles tense and his mouth opens. Cum shooting up his stomach and chest. Both of them coming down from their highs right as the sun officially disappears for the night.

[ellieloves2draw]

drew my dnd party in the outfit from this post! please welcome tally (soccer player and unintentional antichrist extraordinaire), al (daughter of titania and the inventor of feywild-safe wifi), liv (tally’s beautiful cheerleader barbarian wife), bill (motorcycle-riding gunslinger who talks to gods sometimes), bree (part-time rockstar and full-time death omen), and reese (metalhead heir to a noble werewolf lineage)!

(ID under the cut)

(ID: a series of colored marker drawings of the members of the validins d&d party. each party member is drawn in two different outfits and poses.

tally is a white human with short white hair, grey-blue eyes, a sleeve tattoo, and a lightning scar reaching from the middle of her chest up through the left side of her face. they wear an orange t-shirt, white shorts, and orange sneakers in one pose and a blue square-pattered button-up shirt, black pants, and blue sneakers in the other pose.

al is a white fey with long black hair, white freckles, heterochromia (one gold eye and one green eye), and long pointed ears. she has a green streak in her hair. in one pose, she’s wearing a long-sleeved low-neck burgundy shirt, a black pencil skirt, and black flats. in the other pose, she’s wearing a sheer shirt over a black bralette and black shorts buckled into black heeled boots.

liv is a grey tiefling with black horns, yellow eyes, and white shoulder-length hair. in one pose, she’s wearing a lilac sweater and sneakers, and a dark purple gingham pleated skirt. in the other pose, she’s wearing a white sweetheart-neckline blouse and black pants and flats.

bill is a blue tiefling with short, forward-pointing horns, red eyes, and short ginger hair. he has stubble and is wearing a cowboy hat in both poses. in one pose, he’s wearing grey pants tucked into black cowboy boots and a black vest over a white shirt, unbuttoned all the way down to his stomach. he also has several necklaces and a belt with a huge gold buckle. in the other pose, he’s wearing a yellow low-cut blouse and dark blue mom jeans tucked into brown cowboy boots.

bree is a white halfling with fluffy, dark brown hair and brown eyes. they have a black star tattoo on their right cheek and a raven feather braided into the hair on their left side. in one pose, she’s wearing a white shirt with peaches printed down the middle and light pink jorts. she is not wearing shoes. in the other pose, he’s wearing an orange denim jacket over a white shirt with an astrological sun and the words “shine like the sun” printed on it. he’s also wearing black leggings with gold stars, suns, and moons printed on it and orange converse shoes.

reese is a tall white human with brown eyes and black hair styled into a shaggy mullet. in one pose, he is wearing a light blue jacket over a white turtleneck and dark brown slacks. in the other pose, he’s wearing an orange tank top, an unzipped orange jacket that exposes his shoulders, and white-and-orange pinstriped pants.

[thisiskatsblog]

Harry Styles gives Werchter audience a new home

"Harry Styles needed neither lasers, fireworks nor confetti to pack up Werchter's festival park: his charm was enough.

Pink T-shirts, boas and trousers flooded the Haachtsesteenweg on Saturday - we also spotted two jet-black Slipknot shirts on the way to the festival park, but they hurriedly legged it in the other direction. A parade of bright colours was the dress code that accompanied Harry Styles' 'Love on tour' concert series, which was due for its 161st stop in Werchter. That means more than 3 million people already saw the show - Werchter added another 60,000.

It makes the 29-year-old Brit an exceptional pop star. In 2010, he first found fame in The X-factor and ended up in the boy band One Direction. Those are rarely harbingers of a lasting career and sold-out Wembley stadiums (unless your name is Robbie Williams), and yet Styles managed to pull it off. He owes that mainly to his charm and irresistible personality - there were better singers in One Direction*, but that didn't stop Styles from gracing the most bedroom walls.

At Werchter, Styles did not show exceptional voice either: during songs like 'Adore you', the endless tour seemed to hang in his throat. But in the festival park, the Brit proved that few are his equal in entertaining. Styles incessantly handed out thumbs-ups, waves and winks, as if he were not on a pop stage but at a reception with old school friends. He adorned himself in boas, rainbow flags and cowboy hats from the audience, asked if everyone was feeling emotionally stable ('no' was the convincing answer) and congratulated the birthday and pregnant people in the audience. At times, Styles seemed more talk show host than pop singer: he inserted a chatting quarter in which he had a girl tell a joke about an apple playing the trumpet and asked another audience member about her summer plans. A third girl got the grand prize: she had written 'help me tell my girlfriend I love her' on a sign and Styles had the entire festival park declare love in her name.

Not the star shines, but the audience

That frequent chatting, musing and thanking sometimes took the pace out of the show, but picking up speed never seemed to be the intention. Styles is not a whirlwind that overwhelms the venue and leaves it dazed. He left the big, banging pop choruses needed for that with One Direction. Now he prefers to opt for nuance, as in the stunning ballad 'Fine line', the long-spun rock song 'She' or the frequent soul jams of his latest album Harry's house. In it, he left plenty of room for his ten-piece band to shine: drummer Sarah Jones played a starring role in 'Satellite', a wind quartet made 'Cinema' doubly catchy.

And Styles himself? Who focused mainly on his mission. 'The idea that we are separate, solitary beings is a hallucination,' he bellowed from the speakers before the show, a message he underscored by regularly bringing the audience into the picture. At their core, after all, mass concerts are not about the star on stage - who often seems smaller to many audience members than the beer glass in their hand - but about the connection in the audience.

Styles' songs that touch the most also allude to that search for a place to belong. In 'Matilda', the main character finds that place when she allows herself to break away from a toxic home situation. In the dreamy, romantic 'Keep driving', that place lies at the side of a lover, with all the world's problems in the rear-view mirror. On stage, Styles found that new home for 161 nights in the arms of a loving audience - and they in his. For a brief moment on Saturday night, Werchter's meadow was "a place to feel good, where we can treat people with kindness"."

(automatic translation by DeepL - it's not great but I'm too lazy to correct it)

*there is a hyperlink under "better singers" to an article about Niall being the third One Direction guy making number one, after Harry and Louis. It says nothing about the quality of anyone's singing so it's a bit of a weird auto-reference.

[rocket-69]

Ramshackle: 01 - Honey

A tall man in a brown leather jacket walked down Main Street, waving to the citizens of Ramshackle. Jack* adjusted the six-pointed sheriff star pin above his breast pocket and shined it just a little. A simple star for a simple town, but still he was proud of it. He nodded and winked to one of the younger lady street vendors with her mother, salt and peppered with middle age.

“G’mornin’ Penny, Mrs. Cabrera.”

Penny looked up, her eyes wide at being called. Her mother elbowed her gently and handed her a couple of honey sticks to give Jack with a smile. Penny flashed a pleading look to Mrs Cabrera but then quickly took them from her mother and stood up.

“Good morning, sir.” Penny handed the honey over as her eyes lowered, distracted by the badge.

“Are those for me? Aw shucks, you shouldn’t have,” Jack’s teeth glisten. Penny’s eyes had trouble meeting his, though they would flick back quickly when she remembered. Her cheeks flushed, lips pouted with a strong pink tint against her tan skin. As Jack picked her apart in his head, his smile never broke. His blue eyes hid behind the protection of his sunglasses.

Penny dipped her head in a small bow, something picked up from the Asians no doubt.

“Why thank you, Penny.” Jack took the honey sticks and used his teeth to pop one side and start sucking the honey down. “Delicious as ever.” He stopped his patrol a moment to savor his free gift.

Penny turned the corners of her lips into a smile, pushed on by her mother.

“You’re a little shy, aren’t you Penny?” Jack tipped his cowboy hat toward Mrs Cabrera.

Penny’s face flushed red, stronger with her freckles. She laughed. “Mom’s always telling me I should make more friends.” Her voice pitched high and held there.

Jack laughed too.

“Welp, I gotta be back on my beat. See you ladies ‘round.” He winked again at Penny, then nodded gentlemanly to Mrs Cabrera for the last time. “Let me know if anyone causes you any trouble.”

Penny nodded hastily. “Yessir.”

Mrs Cabrera smiled.

Penny, or Lizard Deathshadow to xir friends, shook xir head like an etch-a-sketch. Xe caught a glance of Charlie and Spike turn a corner away from xem, and swung xir gaze straight up to the sky.

-----

The open sky hung over the nestled bowl Benji and Roy** raised Ada in. Scavenging was not the choice livelihood of most people in Ramshackle- shearing sheep, spinning wool into felt and yarn, knitting socks, tanning leathers into armor, or even just farming are all painfully labor intensive, but at least usually there’s some kind of yield. Junk’s value in the wasteland’s overstated. Hundreds-of-years-old clothing is fragile, often crumbling, broken down, eaten by moths or other bugs in the hope of gaining any kind of nutrition. In spite of shocking preservative techniques of the prewar, most food is also barely dust in the hands of a wastelander but still somehow stunk to high heaven. And as if that wasn’t enough, it was also always drier than the moon and about as nutritious.

Scavvers who spend too much time in their dark little holes will come out with a salvaged four hundred year old gun, an obsession in their eyes that’s only marginally better than the car nuts. At least they can sometimes get their guns to shoot, even if not straight. Don’t get any scrapper talking about weapons. Not a lot of good ‘perfectly functional’ laser rifles or ratslayers do without oil and plastic parts specially made for those models. Of course, if that’s a problem with weapons, then it’s also a problem with vehicles. Or so the knights say, as they take such inconveniences out of regular folks’ hands.

But in Ramshackle, the Brotherhood payed a drifter’s hard work not in the scrap they pull up, but the hours they delve. Scavenging was a job that people who weren’t there often or only there for a few seasons could go for. It’s a job that always had openings. Scavenging was for drifters. Nomad types.

Benji and Roy stood by the shoe tree, a long dead, dried out, remote husk. On every branch, every arm and finger, shoes hung. Hundreds. Thousands. Heels. Sneakers. Boots. Bound there and stiff from the desert’s elements. The drifters around the two of them shuffled about, signing in on a salvaged clipboard nailed to the shoe tree. A small shack was built next to the tree for use by the scavengers, stowing helmets, brightly colored vests, and loaner tools.

They sipped from a shared canteen, waiting on the paladin that’d be supervising them today. A few years back, a radscorpion had erupted from a junk pile burrow*** so now scavengers were given a babysitter- a guard.

The paladin was late.

Just as the two of them were looking to the rest of the scavengers to see if they wanted to head back to town, a white shape started down the mountainside. It made its way down a dirt road, trying to bring something large with it. It took shape as it got closer, a paladin in whitewashed† power armor walking an empty trailer back from sledding down the side of the hill. They watched him struggle with it, unable and, if they were honest, unwilling to help him. That suit of armor provided the hydraulic assistance required to wear it, but it also enabled the paladins who wore them to lift things most people could not.

Benji stowed the canteen and Roy put on his scavenging gloves, passing his husband’s pair over once his hands were free. The two of them poked into the shack, selecting the best of the helmets before the other drifters- who were captivated by the suit of armor currently. He was rolling a boulder away from the Sieve Mineshaft, the current focus after someone found some old mechanical parts deep in there, instead of the usual consumer good.

The landscape around Ramshackle was littered with dumps of home goods unconsumed by those who came before. How a world of such plenty could have suffered shortages and rationing spoken of by ghouls and collected histories confused Benji sometimes, thinking that just taking the discarded junk while it was still serviceable would have been of more use. But these thoughts usually ended as soon as the walk home with Roy brought them back to Ada and dinner.

“My name is Paladin Roland Furioso. I will be ensuring all your safety today, barring the standard dangers. I trust you all have had your tetanus shots? If not, my scribe Oliver will inoculate you with the vaccines we’ve produced.”

*Sheriff Jackalope “Jack” McNulty was born a third generation vault dweller, and as such never wore a blue and yellow one-piece suit, but still grew up with the habits his grandparents handed down. An avid recycler, an affection for tight interior spaces, and one of the few who still wore a pipboy.

**Short for Corduroy. His father loved embroidery. Benji is not short for Benjamin. It’s long for Ben.

***Or so the rumors went.

† A heat reflecting tactic. It is not said out loud, but many of the Lahontan Brotherhood Chapter’s power armor rigs have failing secondary hardware- including the cooling systems. Painting the armor white mitigates most of the heat absorbed over the course of one day, after which the paladin exits the armor and exposes the internals to broader air circulation. And usually takes a shower.

[seong-star-hwars]

An Analysis of TXT’s minisode 2: Thursday’s Child

First of all, I totally called this at their MAMA 2021 performance. A very niche, youthful concept, as usual. “Thursday’s child” was taken from a nursery rhyme and the full line is “Thursday’s child has far to go.” This may have something to do with the fact that MOA was named on a Thursday (Aug 22, 2019). Anyway, that’s all for another time.

I haven’t written a review (analysis, now that I look at it) on this blog before, but I just had to for this album.

Opening Sequence

Starting off with the first track, Opening Sequence.

Comparing the breakup of a young relationship to the opening sequence of a movie, the lyrics tell a story of pain, regret, and longing. The opening sequence of the movie keeps playing on in the mind of the person, wishing they could have had more in the relationship.

I can see you in my memory Dance with me, dance with me, dance with me Take one more chance on me, chance on me, chance on me I'm bleeding painfully, painfully, painfully You in the faded film, your gaze that erased me

The repetition of lyrics in the chorus works wonderfully to tell the feelings of being trapped in repeating memories. Not only was the initial breakup painful, but the memories he has to go through over and over make it worse.

This was one of my favorites on the album. From the intro to the first verse with Taehyun’s vocals to the illusion of a waltz in 4/4 time in the chorus, it made me want to cry, damn it.

Good Boy Gone Bad

Now we have the title track, Good Boy Gone Bad.

Back when I first started stanning TXT, before they went emo, I said jokingly, “They’re like the Fall Out Boy of K-Pop with their long-ass song titles.” Then they came out with 0X1=LOVESONG and LO$ER=LO♡ER with their new punk pop sound, abandoning the cute, happy, pastel-wearing concept for a grittier, darker feel. Did I expect it? Absolutely not. But did I love it? Dude, I loved it so much. I’ve always loved punk and emo sounds, one of my enduring favorite bands being Fall Out Boy. TXT’s new sound was amazing. 0X1=LOVESONG is one of my favorite songs right now, if not the favorite.

To me, this track is essentially the “Look What You Made Me Do” of TXT. This is their Reputation era. Gone are the cute, happy, pastel-wearing boys. They trade pink sweaters and cowboy hats for black suits reminiscent of My Chemical Romance’s music videos in the 2000s and leather jackets. In CROWN they danced in a multi-colored abstract setting, in Blue Hour they were at a carnival on a magic island. Now they’re dancing in a graveyard and getting in trouble in various ways.

Put that nail in the coffin over the word forever You completely changed me when I was fragile I spent hours in front of the mirror wanting to become you Scratching my face, swallowing my heart

Look at those lyrics. If that isn’t emo I don’t know what else is. And it just gets more emo from there. Like damn, who hurt these boys? Seriously I wanna know. They can catch these hands.

In between the chorus and the verses, the pre-chorus and the bridge have a break between the anger and angst, giving us beautiful a glimpse of the sadness and broken hearts behind the black clothes and the guitar riffs.

Trust Fund Baby

At first this confused me. Usually, “trust fund baby” is a term with negative connotation about a young adult from a rich family who doesn’t need to have a job to be wealthy and happy. I thought this track would have been criticizing other people, but no it’s way more sad.

The shining spoon to me is someone else's story Someone that already have their dreams There's no "game over" in their lives

In Korea, there is something called the “spoon theory” which is about how one’s parents’ social class determines their own. The highest and wealthiest is the golden spoon, then silver spoon, then bronze, and then dirt (source). One of the biggest societal problems in South Korea is poverty and class, as seen in popular media such as Squid Game or Parasite.

Now knowing this, it’s easier to understand the first lyrics of the song. They don’t have that shining, golden or silver spoon. Comparing love to class and financial struggles, they want security in love like the trust fund babies have security in wealth and success.

It’s a song about acceptance of hopelessness, referencing multiple times their previous title track, LO$ER=LO♡ER. Did I tear up a little while reading the English translation? Yeah, a little bit.

Lonely Boy (The tattoo on my ring finger)

Finally! We come to our first unit song of the album with Yeonjun and Huening Kai! 

Yet another song of heartbreak, the lyrics tell of boy who has fallen so in love with a girl that they both get matching ring finger tattoos in place of promise rings. Of course, they both break that promise, leaving the boy lonely again, which he’s used to. But because of the tattoo on his ring finger, he can’t completely forget her like he wants to. The lyrics also compare the tattoo with things she’s said. Like the needle with the ink created the tattoo, her words stabbed his heart so much that he can’t get rid of the damage she caused.

I hate it, now I don't need it Your traces that won't heal Standing here alone Lonely boy stayin' lonely She ain't my one and only, one and only

While the pre-chorus changes throughout the song, the chorus remains the same, ending with the heavily repeated phrase, “She ain’t my one and only.” He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t need to keep holding onto her, that there’s probably someone else out there for him. But he’s scarred, tattooed by the harm she caused him. He’s been lonely ever since she left. He can’t see that changing any time soon.

Thursday’s Child Has Far To Go

And finally to the last track and the second unit song of the album, we have Thursday’s Child with Soobin, Beomgyu, and Taehyun. 

While the other tracks in this album have a sense of being stuck and lonely and sad, Thursday’s Child has a glimmer of hope in it. An instrumental reminiscent of 80′s synth and punk influences, it’s more upbeat than its predecessors on the album. It’s based around the nursery rhyme I mentioned at the beginning of this review (link for the full rhyme), with the line “Thursday’s child has far to go” as the title and main theme of this story.

While most of the children’s rhyme has more clear meanings, the Thursday’s child line is open to interpretation. Things could go badly or well, as is with most things in life. But no matter what, for Thursday’s child, it will be a long journey, whether the outcome be good or bad. However, even if there’s a chance of failure and heartache, the boys display optimism or realism after a pattern of endless depression in the album.

In a world where much is determined by internet culture, they see a trend of #breakup and adding “glowup” next to it. Just because they broke up with a lover doesn’t mean that sadness is the only outcome. They can improve themselves, learn to be happier, and move on.

It's going to be tougher than it's been Unpredictable our life It's a lot farther than I've come I'm looking forward to the wonderful days

The last lyrics of the bridge are some of my favorites. They can see that the darkness will pass. They have faith that this isn’t the end. There is still a long story to be told, and an unknown ending. There’s hope beyond the present.

As usual with TXT’s releases, I loved this one. The lyrics so wonderfully capture the heartbreak of a young adult, the anger and sadness that follows, and eventually shine light on the hope they have for the future. Paired with a dark concept with deep shadows and night scenery, the album’s sound continues their journey through youth into adulthood, seeing the harsh realities of lost love and then the life that comes after it. 

TXT has a concept that at its core doesn’t change. They still represent youth. But the outside has evolved, as one’s youth does. As they grow older and wiser through their careers, their music and performance grow with them. They wear darker clothes, have sexier choreography, and more mature lyrics, as one would expect from young men, all while still keeping their youthfulness about them.

We don’t know where the story goes next. Since we know it’ll be a long one, I can’t wait to see more albums and singles from this group. We’ve seen them grow from naïve, joyful boys into angry, hurt young men. Where will their journey take them next? I don’t know, but I can’t wait to see more from them.

[wastelandcth]

Red Desert Ridge - cth x afi

part one: the cantina

summary: A cowboy walks into a bar on Friday and orders a drink. 

author’s notes: Welcome to my new mini series! This is a Cashton x reader fic that I’ve been planning for the longest time! Thanks to @in-superbloom and @hoodhoran for letting me scream about this and letting me run ideas by them both. I’m also posting this while I’m taking a very important test so please if I don’t respond right away it’s because my brain is melting over optical terms!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex. 

masterlist || request || series masterlist

Calum watched as the clouds floating by in the sky, the mix of pink and purple fluff that drifted away with the soft breeze a great distraction from the amount of time he'd spent already waiting for the inevitable. The small town that he'd found himself in was nothing more than a long stretch of road lined with shops and a couple of cantinas, the locals of the town passing no more than a glance at him as he'd strolled in on top of his horse. Duke, his prized horse, and really the only other being on Earth that he trusted besides himself, had huffed and whinnied quietly as Calum had led him through the dusty street, snorting in relief when he was finally left in front of a watering hole and promptly ignoring anything Calum did after. Calum had spent the early hours of his day traveling through the dry desert, hoping and wishing that the next few hours would find the end to all his problems. 

But then like a light at the end of the tunnel, Duke’s hooves knocked against the wooden floors of the entrance to a town, bringing Calum’s attention back from the clouds and towards the small town that would bring him answers, or at least that’s what he hoped. His feet found solid ground soon enough and Duke had been left near the water trough. As the sun set on the horizon, letting the pink sky and filter in with oranges and purples, Calum strolled through the town, the spurs on his boots ringing with every step he took on the wooden floorboards. He could feel the eyes of the town on him, the faded green bandana that covered his nose and mouth shielding his face from peering eyes, and it wasn't until he stepped into the crowded cantina that he let the fabric slip down his face and around his neck.

Calum's eyes searched the crowd of people, ranging anywhere from farmers who'd stumbled in after working on the fields all day to the local drunk who seemed to never walk out of the place. The cantina was filled with music and conversation flowing freely around the stucco walls, that was until Calum stepped over the threshold and all eyes were on him. Whispers rang out over the quieted music and Calum couldn't help the smirk on his face as he felt the attention on him. His feet carried him towards the bar, his gait slow and confident as he leaned against the wooden slab that had been sticky with spilled drinks and other substances Calum wasn't sure he wanted to find out about. His hat tipped towards the bartender, who'd been busy serving up shots of clear alcohol and had been the only one in the building to not stop and stare.

"Can I help you, fella?" the bartender finally asked as he walked over, swiping the off-white cloth over the countertop before throwing it over his shoulder to finally study Calum, "Or just traveling through and need a drink?"

The bartender, who Calum assumed was closer to his age and maybe even a little too young to be running a cantina was a tall blonde. His hair was hidden under the black hat that he wore, golden curls peeking out beneath it and sitting just above his shoulders, and Calum found himself smirking at the man's nervous expression. His hands fiddled with the glass in his hand, his head cocking to the side as he waiting for Calum's answer and his eyes kept shifting between Calum's figure and the patrons around them. If Calum hadn't known any better, he would've guessed that the small town saw only a fair share of travelers a year and he'd be the talk of the town in no time.

"Actually, I'm looking for a place to stay," Calum shrugged, pointing over to a bottle of whiskey as he took another glance around the crowded cantina, "Know of any?"

"Oh," the blonde sighed and shrugged, "We usually have a few rooms but if you're looking for a good time," he said and served up the liquor, sliding the glass over to Calum, "The inn down the way charges a pretty fair price and the ladies are always accommodating."

"Luke!" a deep voice called out from behind the blonde, "What did I tell you about sending people that way," the man huffed out, his hand coming over to smack the back of Luke's head, "We would be more than happy to host this traveler in our spacious rooms upstairs!"

The blonde, who Calum was now assuming was Luke, grumbled under his breath and nodded. With one last look at the man who'd smacked his head and then shoved him away from Calum, he rolled his eyes and walked off to check on the rest of the patrons. Calum noticed that Luke had drifted towards another patron of the cantina, whose hair was hidden beneath the brow of a leather hat and kept the shade away from his eyes, whispering something in his ear and making the man glance over at Calum and then back at Luke with a small nod.

 "Sorry about him, he's my son," the man sighed and shook his head, "I've been trying to teach him how things work down here but he's too focused on his dreams of going to the big cities or talking to Michael who will only get him in trouble," he scoffed, "Now about your room and board..."

Calum looked around the cantina, listening to the conversations around him as he nodded in agreement to whatever the man behind the bar rambled on about. Something about extended stays and breakfast every morning with his family. Calum watched the patrons around him, letting himself lean against the wooden bar as he tried to seem in the conversation about the locals and things to do that Luke's father kept rambling on about. His eyes landed on the corner of the cantina, a place hidden in the darkness and shielded from prying eyes. Shielded from the gossip of the small town and the drama that came from a town of a few dozen people.

The small table was littered with drinks and chairs, a couple of men surrounding the table and talking to the man who was leaning back against the chair. The man whose laughter echoed and bounced against the stucco walls of the cantina sat around with no care in the world. His outfit, a white shirt with the first couple of buttons left open to showcase his chest, and the black denim pants that left Calum shifting his stance as his eyes landed on the leather holster that laid against the thick thigh muscle that flexed as the man laughed at whatever his associate had said. The sight of a silky black skirt, the shiny material ending just high enough that a brown leather boot peeked out as it swung against the wooden floor that had been littered with dirt and sand from the outside, had Calum's eyes following the shine of the stretched material up until his eyes were met with another.

Calum saw the way her eyes twinkled, how her lips turned and how her eyes seemed to also trace down his body, stopping at the silver belt buckle that Calum's thumbs were looped through. Her eyes, which had left Calum covered in goosebumps, made the slow and antagonizing trip back up his body until her gaze was back on Calum's. She smirked, bringing the cup that dripped with condensation up to her lips and taking a quiet sip, her eyebrow quirking up as Calum let out a breath he'd been holding in. It wasn't until Calum felt a different pair of eyes on him that he turned his head back to the man, whose hat now laid on his lap, and the laughter he'd roared out seconds before ended with a smirk thrown Calum's way.

Next to Calum, the blond had come back and was chatting with his father as Calum watched the man whose lap she'd taken refuge in turned to face her, his large hand coming up to give her hip a gentle squeeze. Calum could see his lips moving, whispering against her ear and making her squirm in his lap as she nodded a bit. Calum's gaze turned away, turning back to Luke and his father as they set another glass down in front of him and Luke offered to help get him settled in his room upstairs. Calum nodded graciously, his attention slipping from the table in the corner and towards the stairs that Luke had begun to lead him towards.

"You gonna give him a show, darling?" the man whispered against her ear, making her cheeks flush as Calum walked past their table, making his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching."

"And here you are," Luke mumbled as he opened the door to the small room that Calum would call home for the next couple of days, "It used to be my brother's old room but now we rent it out for travelers whenever we get them."

"Thank you," Calum nodded, setting his pack down near the bed, "Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly as he turned his head towards the blonde.

"Yeah, um, of course," Luke nodded and cleared his throat, shifting uneasily under Calum's stare.

"Who was that man in the corner of the cantina, with all the bounty hunters around him," Calum mumbled and unclipped the bandolier across his chest, setting it down against the hardwood of the dresser.

"Oh, that's Ashton Irwin," Luke sighed softly, "His family owns the mine that's a few hours away, the reason why this town exists."

"And the girl?"

"That's his girl, apparently she's crazier than he is," Luke sighed and shrugged, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she's my bounty."

“Mr. Hemmings!” Ashton calls out as he walked over to the bar, his gait confident and the smirk on his face present when the older man turns to look at him, “I fear my girl and I might’ve had a bit too much to drink from your fine cantina today, mind if we get a room here for the night?”

“Mr. Irwin, you know you’re always welcomed here!” the older man chuckled, his eyes examining Ashton and then moving towards the table that was always occupied no matter the day, “Your lady and you are always welcomed to stay with us. I’ll have Luke set up the usual?”

“You sure do know how to keep a regular customer coming back,” Ashton nodded and tipped his hat towards him before he walked back over to the table, “I’ll see you all tomorrow? Michael, I want what we talked about in my hands by sunrise tomorrow.”

Michael, the poor guy who seemed to have lovestruck eyes for no one except the blonde boy whose blue eyes always looked stressed, nodded quickly and rose. The tip of his head towards Ashton and the quiet glance towards the bottom of the stairs where Luke, who’s look like he was trying to look anywhere except near them, dismissed him and he was out of the cantina without a word. Ashton had always found him to be a quiet man, but quiet men were always hard workers and he’d be damned if Michael wasn’t proof of that. Michael had been by his side since the beginning and Ashton would always make sure that his friend and loyal companion were always taken care of. He was smart, always finding a solution for whatever problem Ashton found himself in. Whether it be due to his family’s increasing monetary value or because of the girl giggling into the last of her drink as she swayed along to the chatter of the cantina.

Ashton knew she was trouble the second she walked into his life. Well really, he’d walked into her. He’d been strolling around the small town, chatting with Michael about the town’s latest plans to build a schoolhouse for the ever-growing population of children when he’s accidentally opened the door to the cantina and ran straight into her. She was small, hiding behind a hat and a large coat, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of both Ashton and Michael. That’s how their life together began, with an accident, and it has spiraled into craziness since.

“Ash?” her sleep-laced voice brought Ashton back out of his head, “Are we still...?”

“No baby, it’s already too late and the ride back is too risky and I think we should just head up to bed, yeah? Sleep off all that whiskey,” he nodded as he helped her up out of the chair, his head cocking to the side as he saw Luke staring at them both.

“Right this way, Mr. Irwin.”

Ashton knew she was trouble the second he’d laid eyes on her later that night, after having bumped into her and apologized profusely for his mistake. She’d been at the same cantina again, a shot of whiskey in her hand, and wild eyes shining bright as she danced along with a few of the other girls that seemed to hang around to entice the men. Somehow, Ashton knew she wasn’t one of the parlor girls, her eyes never landing on any of the men who stood by and watched them all dance with a hunger that left Ashton with a heavy pit in his stomach at the thought of someone taking her away. It wasn’t until she’d spotted him in the back, his own eyes following the way her body moved along to the cacophony of music and cheers, that she made her way over to him.

“You look like you could use a good ride,” she breathed out, her cheeks flush from the dancing.

“Oh?” Ashton chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “And what might a girl like you know about that?”

That night Ashton had found himself in a similar position to what he was in now, his naked back pressed up against the rickety mattress as his breaths left his lungs in huffs. Above him, under the sliver of moonlight that peeked in through the window on the side of the bed, he watched as her hips rocked with a quick rhythm. Her breast bounced with every rock, taut nipples teasing Ashton as his wrists tugged against the leather belt holding them in place above his head.

“You always feel so good,” she moaned out, her head thrown back as her thighs flexed with every pull of her body, “Always fill me up so good, Ashton.”

Behind him, the headboard hit the wall with every thrust up his hips made, the inevitable smacking of their skin together echoing throughout the empty room. Normally, Ashton would’ve been the one in control, the one who had her pressed down against the mattress and screaming his name until her high hit as she was left a shaky mess of jellied limbs. But tonight, tonight she had begged Ashton to let her out on a show for him no matter how tired she was, wanting to show him exactly how much she’d learned about riding in the past couple of months she’d spent by his side.

“Doing so good, pretty girl,” Ashton breathed out, the leather around his wrist creaking under the tension of his body, “Gonna- fuck- gonna have to teach you more and more, huh?”

“Please, wanna know everything you have to teach,” she whimpered out, her walls clenching around Ashton so hard that he couldn’t remember what not being inside of her pulsing walls felt like, “Oh, Ashton! I’m gonna...”

“You always do put on a good show, little one, let’s see how you handle the finale,” Ashton muttered as his wrist freed from the leather belt and found a grip on her waist. 

From then, with no restraints and no care in the world to who would hear them, Ashton flipped them over, pressing her chest into the bed and her ass in the air. He watched as her cheeks jiggled with every smack of his hips against hers, watched as her body leaned back against his everytime he pulled away from her, the whimpers and moans echoing louder and louder as Ashton’s hips seemed relentless in their chase for a high. He felt her walls clenching around him, warning him that something big was coming and it wasn’t long before the grip she had on him made his own eyes shut and his own moans grew louder and louder. It wasn’t long until the only thing Ashton could think about was how he wanted to stay in her for the rest of his life and wake up the whole town with the pretty noises her mouth and pussy were making. And as the creaky mattress went silent, their panting breaths the only sound in the room now, Ashton could help but smirk against her shoulder, hoping that their neighbor had indeed found pleasure in the show. 

Calum laid in bed, his eyebrows furrowed up at the ceiling as the noise next to his room echoed down the hallways and through the walls that kept him in private. His hand was wrapped tightly around himself, the wet squelch of his hand moving quickly to get any sort of relief a whisper in comparison to the banging on the wall behind him of the moans that made his ears ring. It wasn’t long until he felt his own hips tensing and his cock twitching in his fist, his hand covered with his spend as he let the shaky breaths leave his lungs, the stars behind his eyelids his only anchor to the real world as his orgasm tore through him. His breathing eventually calmed down, his hand searching in the dark for his discarded bandana that he used to quickly clean up the mess he’d made before his brain, now foggy with ecstasy slowly drifted off to sleep, dreams of a black silk skirt and a white unbuttoned shirt soothing his weary and traveled body.

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[space-city-traffic]

yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

[night-fallz]

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

It was raining and it was just the perfect atmosphere for me to write in. I hope you guys like this chapter. And like I have previously stated in the previous chapters, any criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/28/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

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Chapter 3

Marinette was sitting on a bench waiting for XY to arrive. She was nervous. Their conversation last night would not leave her head.

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up. 

He called me princess.

When Chat Noir called her that she just felt annoyed. But with XY, it only made her heart beat faster.

"Marinette!" she heard a familiar voice yell. Marinette turned around and noticed XY running up to her. When he finally reached her, he was out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you." He managed to say between gasps.

Marinette looked at him up and down with a bit of disgust. "What kind of disguise is this!" she yelled at him.

XY was wearing a sage-green crewneck that says 'NIKE' in the middle with baggy jeans and black converse. His outfit wasn't the worst. In fact, Marinette liked it. But what she didn't like were the accessories she chose. He was wearing an obnoxious cowboy hat with huge sunglasses that almost covered the upper part of his face. To make it worse, XY was also wearing an obnoxiously fake mustache.

XY winced at her reaction and meekly said, "A disguise?"

Marinette let out a huff. "I can not believe I am being seen next to you right now. The fashion gods must've cursed me or something."

XY let out a laugh and Marinette had a feeling that he was rolling his eyes at her. Of course, she couldn't be sure because of those hideous sunglasses. XY tugged her arm, "Come on." he smirked. "The faster we get to your house, the faster you won't be seen with a so-called fashion disaster like me."

Marinette scrunched her nose and started walking towards the bakery. "Hurry up." She exclaimed, letting out a small laugh. "I already know that you can't come up with a subtle disguise, but I hope that you aren't slow as well."

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XY was out of breath, yet again, when they arrived at the front door of the bakery. "You're fast." He let out a breath. “That wasn’t fair. I literally ran to the park so I could hang out with you, then you make me run even more.”

Marinette pulled the door open and winked at him. "I know." She gave her parents a quick hug and turned back to XY. "Do you want anything?"

XY looked at the baked goods and scrunched his eyebrows. "Can I have a croissant and a strawberry macaroon, please?"

He was about to reach for his wallet when Marinette quickly stopped him. "It's on the house." She said reassuringly. XY opened his mouth to protest and Marinette narrowed her eyes and gave him the items he wanted. "It's on the house," she repeated, this time glaring at him..

XY looked at Mrs. Dupain-Cheng for help but she only gave him a smile. "Don't argue with her, dear. She does this for all her friends. She won't take no for an answer."

"My mom's right." Marinette agreed. "Now come on” Marinette tugged his sleeve. “We have plans to make."

Before he could reply, Marinette led him upstairs to her bedroom.

"Woah," XY exclaimed in surprise.

Whatever he was expecting Marinette’s room to look like, it was not this.  

"Why are you so sho-" Marinette stopped talking right when she turned so she could face her room and her face went bright red. She let out a scream of embarrassment. "I swear I thought I put all of this away! I can't believe I forg- UGH!" she let out a huff of frustration. "You think I'm creepy now, don't you." she said, her eyes on the ground.

XY gave her room another quick glance before facing her. She had Adrien Agreste's face everywhere. There were posters with Adrien's face all over her wall. The wallpaper on her desktop was Adrien. Her room was basically an Adrien Agreste shrine.

Yet, XY had seen worse. Seeing her room, it was obvious that she has a crush on Adrien Agreste. He held in a scoff. Of course, she does. He thought. Why would she ever like me anyways. I’m a nobody when compared to the so-called sunshine boy of Paris.

XY could feel Marinette's eyes staring at him. He's been silent for a while.

Marinette probably assumed that he hated her and thought she was a creep. "Nope," XY said, a bit louder than necessary. He winced before he added, "I don't think you're a creep." his voice a bit softer this time.

"Yes, you do," Marinette stated, her hands hiding her face. "You took way too long to respond."

"I was taking in the scenery."

"What scenery?" Marinette asked. Though, XY could hear a teasing tone behind it. "My embarrassed face or my even more embarrassing room." Marinette plopped down on her bed. "I thought I took down all the posters and got rid of his face on my desktop." She faced him and smiled sheepishly, "I guess I was so excited to meet up with you that I forgot to take all this-" she gestured around her room "off."

"If it helps," XY tried to say. "This really isn't that bad." When Marinette stared at him as if he grew a tail, he added. "Trust me, I've seen way worse."

And just like that, the tense and awkward atmosphere was gone.

It was silent for a few seconds when Marinette spoke. "Me and my friend Alya” Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “We were supposed to take down all my posters and burn them." It was XY's turn to stare at Marinette as she was the one who grew a tail, but Marinette didn’t notice it or she just ignored him. "I'm over him. I actually can't believe I ever liked him in the first place."

"What changed?"

Marinette waved the question off. "I'll tell you later. Now, let's start planning the photo shoot."

XY stared at her for a few seconds, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. "Okay.” He surrendered. “But you're telling me everything later."

"Maybe Marinette teased. "Now come on XY-"

"Xavier." he interrupted. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "Call me Xavier."

"Oh." Marinette looked at him with a cute smile on her face. "Well come on Xavier," she said his name in a teasing tone. "Let's get planning."

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Planning her 'I'm back cause I didn't realize that I somehow have over 200,000 followers on insta' photoshoot took a lot faster than Marinette thought it would.

XY, no, Xavier was a natural at it. She guessed it was because he was used to this kind of thing.

Marinette looked at her pink notebook. It was where she wrote down all the plans they made and the suggestions he gave her. "Thank you so much for helping me!" she exclaimed in excitement. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Xavier took a bite out of his macaroon, "You're welcome. It wasn't that hard anyways, so it's all good."

Marinette studied him. Technically, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but same thing.

He took off that horrible disguise of his so she could actually see his face.

Like Marinette said before, Xavier was hot. He had a sharp jawline, which brought out his ocean blue eyes and his golden blonde hair was shining in the sun.

If Xavier ever asked Marinette who she believed his godly parent was, she would definitely say Apollo. Apollo was often described by Percy as hot. Someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. It also helps that Xavier was a musician.

Marinette let out a dreamy sigh before quickly widening her eyes. She tried to make it look like she wasn't staring at him but it was too late.

Xavier caught her. He gave her a smirk that practically made Marinette melt and raised an eyebrow. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Marinette wanted to take him up on that offer. Instead, she forced out a laugh and threw a pillow at him. "Wow. How original."

Xavier rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

Could this guy get any hotter?

"So." Xavier said.

"So?" Marinette replied with confusion.

"What's up with you burning down all the pictures of-" he gestured at her posters.

"Oh," Marinette couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. "That."

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft.

Marinette looked at him in surprise.

Should she lie?

Marinette couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. He asked her that question with such sincerity. As if he actually wanted to know if she was okay

Instead, Marinette scoffs. "Did you know that you’re the second person who ever asked me that question?"

He didn’t reply.

Stupid. Marinette scolded herself. Why did she say that to him? Now he was going to hate her and think she’s just looking for attention.

Marinette stiffened. Xavier’s arms were around her.

He was giving her a hug.

Usually, Marinette would be freaking out about someone like him hugging her.

But right now, all she could do was hug him tighter and finally let go of all the tears that she's been holding in.  

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Note: I suck at writing sad scenes. So don't end up being surprised if my attempted angsty chapters end up being cringy.

Also, how do you guys want me to address XY? Do you want me to keep addressing him as XY or Xavier outside of Marinette's dialogue? I tried to address him with his actual name, Xavier, in this chapter. But I don't really know if I like it or not, so please give me your feedback on that.

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1,528 words.

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6 @ladiiwhisper @thezestywalru @mica-aa @runestarchild @theymakeupfairies @para-dox-normal @futursworld 

[honeypirate]

You could NOT believe your eyes.

This mug absolutely exuded cursed energy and you had to have it.

You reach out to grab it but before you can a red headed guy beside you snatches it.

“Hey!” You say, hand floating frozen in the air still reaching for the empty space where the hideous mug was.

“I wanted that” you say with a laugh and cheeks already beginning to warm.

“Oh you did? I’m sorry. But it’s really creepy and I want it to. Maybe we can make a deal?” he says with a goofy grin that makes your heart full with happiness for some reason.

“What do you have in mind?” You say and he beams at you “let’s go choose the craziest outfits we can for each other and then we have buy them and wear them out” you know who he is, he’s in your humanities class and you’ve seen him around campus but you don’t remember his name.

“Okay but you have to buy me the cup” he laughs and holds out his hand to shake “deal”

You met him back at the dressing rooms with arms full. A pair of pleated white dress pants, a brown crop top that says “I love your grandma”, a tie that is covered in jalapeños, purple one inch heel cowboy boots (yes in his size), and to finish off the look, a felt tie dye oversize jacket that seemed homemade.

He took one look at you and started to laugh, his eyes shining with how much fun he was having “put it down in this room, i put your outfit in that other room” he wiggles his eyebrows and you feel your soul fill with fear as you laugh

“oh you got me a hat!” You exclaim as you change and his giggles find your ears muffled through the wall. “I gotta say, I love these boots. A+ choice”

you laugh “did I guess the right size?”

He laughs as he says “you sure did!”

You take one last look in the mirror as you hold your own clothes in your arms.

A fedora made out of yellow feathers, a poodle skirt that is the brightest shade of pink you didn’t think possible with a big deformed poodle sewn in the side, a brown sweatshirt that says “I beat the dr” beside a giant can of Dr Pepper, and apple green flip flops.

You step out of the room and when you see each other you start laughing so hard tears begin streaming down your cheeks.

“You look horrendous!” You say and he laughs harder “Me?!” He exclaims and you laugh so hard you double over “the hat was a good choice” he says and you nod “yeah I love the hat the best” you say as you grin up at him.

You pay and exit the goodwill, still laughing every time you look over at each other, and stop beside your car. He pulls the mug out of the bag “as promised” he says and you chuckle “god that thing is gonna kill me in my sleep” you say as you take it from his hand

“Well geez I hope not because I wanted to go on another date” you laugh once and smirk “was this a date then?” You ask and he shrugs “yeah. Just impromptu” you smile, your heart racing as butterflies multiplied in your belly “I like that” you admit “so you wanna go on another?” He asks and you nod “definitely”

“Y/n Y/n” you say holding your hand out

“Tendou Satori” he says and shakes your hand with a smile

(Edit as a little bonus - check out this article of weird thrift finds that I think Tendou would go nuts for)

Edit as another bonus here is the picture that a lovely moot drew of tendou!!!!

[rodeoxqueen]

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This? 

Dante/ AMAB! Reader

Series Summary:  From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings:18+, AMAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: And after months, Rodeo presents the male version of this soon-to-be filth. *tilts cowboy hat over eyes and leans in seat*

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your favorite pair of dressy sneakers. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice man. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh boy, they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now,” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, handsome?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, sir.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice gentleman some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey dude, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your pocket, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your pocket weighed the heaviest on your mind.

With your keys in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular. 

[cardest]

Russia playlist

Gorbachov! Tear down that wall.......and turn up this Russia playlist! The Cossacks are dancing to this one and the yaks are singing. Russia, Siberia, Moscow, St Petersburg and a cold war. It’s all here in this Russia playlist. Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

We begin the journey in Siberia and make our way across Genghis Khan territory towards Omsk and beyond. We have a look at Chernobyl, Ukraine for a look around and make our way up to Moscow, We finish up this playlist in St Petersburg. Hope you enjoy it.

RUSSIA

001 FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE 007 OST - Main theme 002 Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train 003 The Beatles - Back in The USSR 004 Iron Maiden - Mother Russia 005 Sisters of Mercy  - Dominion / Mother Russia 006 Ramones - Cretin Hop 007 Sting - Russians 008 Russkaja - Peace, Love & Russian Roll 009 Robert Simon Thomas - Troika  (balalaika) 010 Jello Biafra, The Guantanamo School Of Medicine - We Created Putin 011 The Cult -  Siberia 012 Mastodon -  Siberian Divide 013 Yes - Siberian Khatru 014 Pesnokhorki Barnaul - Cossacks songs of Siberia 015 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Siberian Love Affairs 016 The Kills - Siberian Nights 017 The Night Flight Orchestra - Siberian Queen 018 Altai Kai - Traditional Siberian music 019 Vallenfyre -  My Black Siberia 020 Skyhooks - Jukebox In Siberia 021 MISERY INDEX - Siberian March 022 Wooly Mammoth - Mammoth Bones 023 Grumbling Fur -  Siberian Priest 024 Iron Maiden - Genghis Khan 025 Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Night enchanted 026 The Locust -  Live From The Russian Compound 027 ACCEPT - Russian Roulette 028 Cavalera Conspiracy - Genghis Khan 029 Diaframma - Siberia 030 Renaissance - Mother Russia 031 Echo & The Bunnymen - Siberia 032 Dschinghis Khan - Genghis Khan 033 Bad News -  Warriors Of Ghengis Khan 034 The Hu - The great Chinggis Khan 035 Shah - Escape 036 Ray Stevens - Surfin USSR 037 Ramones - Locket Love 038 Heirs -  Russia 039 The Dillinger Escape Plan - Hero of the Soviet Union 040 Natalia Albychakova - Takhpakh 041 Svetlanas - Go Fck You Self 042 Maloletka - Irkutsk Path 043  Kuban Cossack Choir - The hat all around 044 The Lords of the New Church - Russian Roulette 045 Paul Lay Trio - Irkutsk 046 Elvis Hitler - Rocking Over Russia 047 Russian Circles - 309 048 Thylacine - Irkutsk 049 Valeriy Voloshin and gruppa Pyatiletka - Irkutsk 050 DEVO -  Cold War 051 Güiro Meets Russia - It's Not The World, It's You 052 Powerwolf - Nightside of Siberia 053 Altai Kai - Oilo oilo altai 054 Arkona - Yarilo 055 Depeche Mode - People Are People 056 Gorky Park - Bang 057 Igor Stravinsky -  The Rite of Spring, Part 1- 3 Game of Abduction 058 Martika - Toy Soldiers 059 Transvision vamp    - revolution baby 060 The Stranglers -  No More Heroes 061 Gari Gari - Russian gypsy  music 062 Russian Sailors - Dance Yablochka 063 Manic Street Preachers - Revolt 064 Elton John - Nikita 065 Krokus - Russian winter 066 Prince - Ronnie Talk to Russia 067 Soviet SOunds - Baikal-Amur Railroad 068 Genesis - Land of Confusion 069 Duran Duran - Planet Earth 070 Today Is The Day -  The Russian Porn Ballet 071 Nytt Land - Ballad of Gjallarhorn 072 Rotting Christ - Ветры злые - (featuring Irina Zybina) 073 Metallica - Blackened 074 Anneke van Giersbergen, Árstíðir -  Russian Lullaby 075 Der Kommissar - After the Fire 076 Czas relaksu - Andrzej i Eliza 077 korobushka - Folk Russian 078 Peter Gabriel - Red Rain 079 FEAR - Bomb the Russians 080 Rush - Heresy 081 RUSSKAJA - Energia 082 Megadeth -  Peace Sells 083 King Crimson - One More Red Nightmare 084 Sodom - Nuclear Winter 085 Bruce Cockburn - If I Had A Rocket Launcher 086 Talisman - Hey you Horses! 087 Styx - Cold War 088 Grateful Dead - Throwing Stones 089 Gimines - Kai armonika tyliai užgros 090 EXHUMED - Coins Upon the Eyes 091 Mastodon -  The Czar 092 CCCP - American Soviets 093 Sapce Rockit - Supersonik Elektronik 094 Septic Flesh - The Eldest Cosmonaut 095 Quicksand -  Cosmonauts 096 Arkona - Zimushka 097 Abracadabra - Damned Dances 098 Pink Floyd - Two Suns In The Sunset 099 Prince - 1999 100 Trololo Guy - Sean Sell Duck with Fake Subtitles ( Buffalax Style ) 101 Armonika - Gromatele Parašiau 102 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Vodka Inferno 103 Accept -  Balls to the wall 104 Killing Joke - New Cold War 105 UB40 - The Earth Dies Screaming 106 RAMONES - Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (My Brain Is Hanging Upside) 107 TCHAYOK - Zavarka - Mi-minable 108 COH - Soii Noir 109 Vircator - Tunguska 110 Scorpions -  China White 111 Tears For Fears  - Everybody Wants To Rule The World 112 The Stalin - 解剖室 113 KAIRA - OХ РA 114 Alexander Robotnick - Ce n'est q'un début 115 Tunguska Electronic Music Society - Alpha Kawu 116 Arkona - Odna 117  Cist - Antisceptic 118 Sabaton -  Nuclear Attack 119 Leningrad Cowboys - Katjusha 120 PRONG - Rude Awakening 121 Imperial Age - And I Shall Find My Home 122 Так - пела метель 123 Fear Konstruktor - Nonexistence 124 Oneohtrix - Russian Mind 125 Police - Every Breath You Take 126 dEpEchE modE - Two Minute Warning 127 Ultravox - Dancing With Tears In My Eyes 128 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Love Missile F1-11 129 Metallica - Fight Fire With Fire 130 David Bowie - Heroes 131 woven hand - my Russia 132 Survivor - Burning Heart (Rocky IV OST) 133 Forest - As a Shade Above This Land 134 Tesla - Modern Day Cowboy 135 Colossus Form - Son Of Nature 136 The Flying Lizards - Russia 137 Djivan Gasparyan - A Cool Wind Is Blowing 138 Iron Driver (feat. Pasha Mrachek) - Prisoner of time 139 Pussy Riot - CHAIKA 140 Boris Alexandrov - Катюша (Katyusha) 141 DEVO - Going Under 142 Motor - Yak 143 Nuclear Assault - Nuclear War 144 Edward Artemiev - Station (Solaris OST) 145 Soviet Valves - Puritan Blues 146 Verasy - Polet 147 FAVALLI - Yuri Gagarin 148 Wolfmother - Cosmonaut 149 Yuri Gagarin  - Psychological Discontinuity 150 Witchfinder General - Soviet Invasion 151 Korrozia Metallah - Russian Vodka 152 Russkaja - Kosmopolit 153 Dio -  Gypsy 154 The The - slow train to dawn 155  Blues Pills -  Gypsy 156 Rush - Red Lenses 157 Corey Hart - Komrade Kiev 158 Master - Metal Doctor 159 Howlin Rain - Phantom In The Valley 160 ARKONA - Liki Bessmertnykh Bogov 161 Pitchblack - IHATEU 162 Ozzy Osbourne - Killer of Giants 163 Scorpions - Wind of Change 164 Yat kha - Chorumal Bodum 165 Nadezhda Babkina, Russkaja Pesnja 166 Ramones - Here Today, Gone Tomorrow 167 Russian radio - red flag 168 Manicure - Atomic Summer 169 The Dillinger Escape Plan -  The Threat Posed By Nuclear Weapons 170 Love Among Freaks - Berserker 171 ARIA - HERO OF ASPHALT 172 Temnozor - Fatherland 173 Walknut - Motherland Ostenvegr 174 Weird Al Yankovic - Now That's What I Call Polka! 175 Underworld - Underneath the Radar 176 Skyclad - Polkageist 177 Helloween - Russian Roulé 178 John Coltrane - Russian Lullaby 179 Julian Cope - russian revolution blues 180 Rodrigo y Gabriela - The Russian Messenger 181 Kate Bush - Babooshka 182 ВИА - Чаривни гитары 183 Mastodon - The Last Baron 184 Hovert – Omyt 185 Minsk -  Consumed by Horizons 186 Kypck - Stalingrad 187 Def Leppard -  Gods of war 188 Black Country Communion  - Big Train 189 Sabaton -  Stalingrad 190  Doomsquad - Russian Gaze 191 Soviet Soviet - Human Nature 192 Murray head    - one night in bangkok 193 The Korgis - Young n Russian 194 Chelsea Light Moving - Communist Eyes 195 Helix - Champagne Communist 196 UDO - Train Ride In Russia 197 Mr Weebl - Russian Dancing Men 198 Jamie Jones   - Siberian Express 199 They Might Be Giants - Sold My Mind to the Kremlin 200 Ed Khuild - lolololololololol 201 Sepultura - Itsari 202 Vy Pole - Enormous 203 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow 204 Gogol Bordello -  Gypsy Auto Pilot 205 Buffalex - Horse Eat My Nipple 206 Municipal Waste - Wolves of Chernobyl 207 Drudkh -  Cursed Sons II 208 Chernobyl - A song for the fallen 209 Russkaja - Hometown Polka 210 Toxic Holocaust -  Out of the Fire 211  Hail Caesar! Soundtrack - 19 Soviet Man 212 The Blow Monkeys  - The Man From Russia 213 The Devil's Blood - The Anti-Kosmik Magick 214 Orchid - Cosmonaut of Three 215 Vergeltung - Cold War 216 KYPCK - Alleya Stalina 217 Cabaret Voltaire -  Calling Moscow 218 Red Army Choir - Polyushka Polye 219 Iron Curtain - Ready To Strike 220 Porcupine Tree - Russia on Ice 221 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - 21st Century Boy 222 Al Stewart - Roads to Moscow 223 The Rolling Stones - Sympathy For The Devil 224 Soviet Soviet - ecastacy 225 KREMLIN - Will You Feed Me 226 AC/DC - Heatseeker 227 ANJ - Gorbachev 228 Katyusha (Катюша) - Aleksandr Marshal & Valeria Kurnushkina 229 ARKONA - Stenka Na Stenku 230 Black Obelisk -  The wall 231 Skyclad - Catherine at the Wheel 232 Pussy Riot - Kropotkin-vodka (Kill the sexist!) 233 Brian Eno -- Stedelijk 234 Zola Jesus - Siphon 235 Insect Inside - The First Shining of New Genus 236 MR. ZIVAGO - Little Russian 237 The Real McKenzies - Midnight Train to Moscow 238 Red Army OST - KGB 239 The Toasters - Night Train to Moscow 240 Thy Catafalque - Urania 241 The Apogee - Hieronymus Bosch 242 Sabaton - Panzerkampf 244 RUSSKAJA - Barada   245 Oneohtrix Point Never - KGB Nights 246 Faith No More -  A Small Victory 247 Mike and the mechanics - A Call To Arms 248 Michael Jackson - Stranger In Moscow 249 Blondie - Contact In Red Square 250 Rammstein - Moskau 251 Pseudogod - deathwomb 252 KGB - Subway Sleepwalker 253 Igor Butman Big Band - Moscow at 3am 254 Genghis Khan - Moscow 255 Demon - Blue Skies In Red Square 256 Type O Negative - The Profit of Doom 257 COH - Red Square 258 Cougars - Red Square 259 Ray Conniff - Moscow Nights 260 INDIANS IN MOSCOW - Indians in Moscow 261 Radio Moscow - 250 Miles 262 Kingdom Come - Crown of Moscow 263 Powerwolf - Moscow after dark 264 U.D.O. - Decadent 265 System Of A Down - Störagéd 266 Closure In Moscow - Pink Lemonade 267 VIBRATORS - DISCO IN MOSCO 268 IRA PETROWA - MOSKAUER NÄCHTE 269 Visage - Moon Over Moscow 270 Farmers Market - Red Square Dance 271 Wonderland -  Moscow 272 Courtney Pine - Red Square Gagarinesk 273 Stray Cats - Storm The Embassy 274 German Shepherds - Communist Control 275 Moloko - Radio Moscow 276 March of the defenders - Moscow 277 Takako Nishizaki - Podmoskovnye vechera( Moscow Nights) 278 Simple Minds - Moscow Underground 279 The Spotnicks - Moscow 280 The Russian Jazz Quartet - Journey from Moscow 281 Bob Crewe Generation - Miniskirts In Moscow 282 MODERN TROUBLE - FLY TO MOSCOW 283 Gorky Park - Moscow Calling 284 BB Gabor - Moscow Drug Club 285 Doe Maar - De bom 286 Manicured noise - Moscow 287 Russkaja - Ras Dwa Tri 288 PLANET P PROJECT - Armageddon 289 Clan of Xymox - Muscoviet Musquito 290 Gogol Bordello -  60 REVOLUTIONS 291 Uriah Heep   - Gypsy 292 Living Colour - Cult Of Personality 293 The Hollies - Russian Roulette 294 Kenny Ball and His Jazzmen - Red Square 295 Frank Chacksfield - Under Moscow Skies 296 Thomas Dolby - Eastern Bloc 297 The Redskins - Kick Over The Statues 298 The Alchemist - Moscow Mornings - Sunrise 299 N.O.T.A. - Moscow 300 Svetlanas - Where Is My Borscht? 301 Against Me! - Russian Spies 302 James Horner - Gorkij park (Gorky Park 1983) OST 303 Hetalia Russia - Moscú 304 Roberto Jacketti & The Scooters - Moscow Nights 305 Ram J Holder - The Blues in Moscow 306 Ivan Rebroff sings Russian folk songs - Moscow nights 307 Jethro Tull - Crest Of A Knave Said She Was a Dancer 308 Men At Work - Its a Mistake 309 Skeewiff - Moscow Mule 310 The Clash - Ivan Meets G.I. Joe 311 Captain Sensible - Glad its all over 312 Ulfdallir - Steel Armor 313 Arkona - Oi Ti ne Vecher (Oh Not That Evening) 314 Lena Katina - No Voy A Olvidarte 315 JOHNNY M5 - Moscow Nights 316   Eddy Huntington - U.S.S.R. 317 Selsius - Moscow 318 WINTERUS - MOSCOW 319 Mr. Zivago - Love in Moscow 320 Brutto - Moscow Calling 321 Udo Lindenberg - Moskau 322 Aliza Kashi - Moscow Nights 323 Angelic Upstarts - Last Tango In Moscow 324 ASIA - Russian Dolls 325 Blaze Bayley & Thomas Zwijsen - Russian Holiday 326 Kate Bush - Breathing 327 Roger Waters and David Bowie - When the wind blows 328 Roky Erickson & The Aliens - Sputnik 329 Moscow - Orange Juice 330 Ivan Rebroff - Cossack Patrol 331 Alexandr Gradsky - Как молоды мы были 332 James Horner - Gorky Park - Following KGB 333 B.T.R - Moscow City 334 Gogol Bordello -  Hats Off To Kolpakoff 335 CCCP - Sputnik [Cosmos] 336 Russkaja - Go Sputnik 337 Red Spektor - Cosmonaut 338 Bald Red Lady - Cosmonaut 339 Ulver - Russian Doll 340 Hawkwind - Sputnik Stan 341 Bad Acid Trip - Putin Fears Pussy 342 Queensryche - Operation Mindcrime 343 Dark Tranquillity -  Arkhangelsk 344 TOTAL REJECTS (This Night) I'm Going To Be Destroyed 345 Manic Street Preachers - The Next Jet to Leave Moscow 346 Billy Joel - Leningrad 347 Victor Smolski    - The Heretic 348 Boney M - Rasputin 349 Type O Negative - Tripping A Blind Man 350 Leningrad Cowboys - Leningrad 351 Accept - Stalingrad 352 Russian Folk Music - Russian Winter 353 Cavalera Conspiracy -  Rasputin 354 Kontrust - Rasputin 355 Bersarin Quartett - St. Petersburg 356 Folkearth - From Volga to Bosphorus 357 Anastasia - Rumor in St. Petersburg 358 Retox - Soviet Reunion 359 Fireside - Let Rasputin Do It 360 Mastodon - Oblivion 361 St.Petersburg Ska Jazz Review - Volga River Boat Man 362 THERION - The Khlysti Evangelist 363 The Mountain Goats - Evening in Stalingrad 364 Rage - Soul Survivor 365 Indigo Girls - Closer to Fine 366 ARKONA - Slavsia Rus 367 Russian Folk Music - Kalinka (balalaika) 368 Catch 22 - The Decembrists Song 369 Joanna Stingray - City of Lenin 370 Aria - Attila 371 KAUAN  - Khurum 372 Balalaika Ensemble Wolga - Cossacks Dance 373 The Liminanas - Russian Roulette 374 Vasiliy Shumov - Porridge 375 U.D.O. - I GIVE AS GOOD AS I GET 666 Russkaja - Change

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

[apterydek]

After a year of jockhood

A year of jockhood came and went, daily workouts, buzzed head, sweaty gym shorts. Though you were stronger and more comfortable than ever, you missed being preppy. Looking back at the old photos from when you wore chinos and polos instead, you remembered how you felt then: disappointed you weren’t living the jock life.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you confess to Sir. He’s the one putting you through your paces, holding you to your meal plan. He was the one who gave you your first buzz, clippers set to 1. “Though I’m living my fantasy, and I feel confident, I keep feeling like I’m missing out on all the other versions of me. This was supposed to be my final transformation, and despite all the mental training, I just can’t stick with it. I’m sorry Sir, I fear I’ve disappointed you. I know you’ve put so much effort into training me.”

Sir isn’t angry, nor let down. He’s pensive, eyes out of focus, forehead furrowed. Then, with a sudden smile, he starts: “Boy, it’s no problem. I’ve seen this before. Sensed that it might happen. It’s just that I wanted you to have the full jock experience you were so dedicated to when we first started. I know just what to do. Another year of training—”

“Another year?” you blurt in disbelief.

“Shush, boy,” he continues, stern now. “This year will be unlike the last year. Rather than get you deep into one identity, we’ll change things up every month. We’ll explore all the different versions of you. Then decide what to do next. Who knows, maybe you’ll be begging to go back to jock mode.”

Your mouth is open. “W..well…” you say, processing what Sir’s suggesting. It tingles, excitement gripping you, and you decide to comply. “Yes Sir!” you shout. He’s already thinking of what you’ll become, and within the week, you’re given your first identity.

January you kept your hoodies and trainers, but grew out your hair slightly on top even as the sides were shaved. You wore a steel necklace and a tracksuit. Manspreading, walking with a swagger. Drinking and cursing. Watching porn. Sir would catch you by surprise and pin you against the wall, getting his pleasure from you. You loved the sudden lack of discipline, the spontaneity, the cockiness.

February your hair was long enough to part and slick. Your wardrobe was entirely replaced with white briefs and singlets, gray and blue dress shirts, smart slacks, knee socks, shined shoes and even a pair of short elasticated wool shorts for home. You tucked in your shirt every day, followed a structured schedule, and learned the basics of piano and French every evening. Sir would spank you for the smallest transgressions. You came to enjoy his discipline, the way your energy was controlled and focused on learning.

March your hair kept growing. You returned to sporty shorts with matching silky shirts. Leg day every day. Running, endurance. Sir had chosen only two outfits for you to wear. It made decisions easy. He chose your food carefully for energy. By the end of all the workouts you’d be ready to head to bed, but you were quizzed on football stats every day from the games you spent hours watching. You lived through your team’s performance, trained hard to emulate your favorite players. Sport, sport, sport. The month passed quickly.

April you didn’t get a haircut, just put a little hair gel in it. Polos and khakis or bright, short shorts. Boat shoes. You started to drink again. Spent lots of time on social media, taking lots of selfies with vapid pearly smiles. A lot of them involved golf, which you were now taking up. Sir got you invited to a party on a yacht. Little discipline again, just spending money, and enjoying the money others spent, and the respect everyone gave you.

May you used a straight iron and bobby pins. Pink crop tops and pink high tops. Became a go-go dancer, shaking your butt every time someone slipped a sweaty dollar bill down the waistband of your glittery hot pants. Pumped your nips every night and morning. Sir worked your hole every morning until you could take a plug, then a thick dildo, then a fist. Sometimes, after your shows, you’d get the chance to fit other guys’ hands up your hole too. It felt good to be desired, great to be a slut, and utterly fabulous to be so flamboyant.

June you got a cut in front and a trim in the back. Button-ups with the snaps, tucked into tight Wranglers and secured with a massive belt buckle. You listened to country music the entire time you were awake. Spent time hunting and fishing, dressed in camo and/or waders. Beaten-up T-shirts and trucker caps half the time. Cowboy hats the other half. It was relaxing getting back into nature, relaxing listening to repetitive songs, relaxing to slip completely into this identity and hear the voices of anxiety silenced. Some time every day, Sir gave you hearty pats on the back, and butt, and you embraced him, totally at ease.

July you awoke in briefs and a singlet again. An extra-large polo shirt, sweater vest, and loose polyester dress pants were stuffed over you, and you were taken to a barbershop and given a tight waxed horseshoe flattop with a white, shiny, wide landing strip. Glasses for good measure too. The only fun you had was DnD, but mostly you were too busy reading academic papers, solving logic puzzles, and arguing with strangers on Quora to spend much time on the DnD sessions. Sir would turn the Internet off at 9 every night, though, and you’d have to wake up early the next day to catch up on your online pursuits. It felt good to know more than anyone else...except Sir, of course.

August you got tired of feeling like other guys were about to bully you and became the bully instead. Buzzed again, gym shorts, tank tops, lifting, protein shakes and meal plans: all the things you’d gotten tired of six months ago, but which seemed so comfortable and natural now. You almost didn’t want to continue the cycle of transformations. Begged Sir, naked and on your knees, your prominent pecs quivering slightly. Sir denied you. You needed still more discipline.

September you were to follow a detailed schedule to the minute. Your buzz was shaved daily on the back and sides, clippered to a 0.5 on top. You were issued one set of clothes for PT, and one set of clothes for day-to-day wear: a polo and cargo pants with stiff black boots that gave you blisters. There was a final set of clothing for dinners and special outings: a dress shirt secured with shirt stays, immaculately creased trousers, mirror-shined black shoes. Punishments were severe and severely boring: standing at attention for hours, endless sets of push-ups, and marches in circles with the sun beating on your shorn head. Despite the unpleasantness, you felt proud to be held to such a strict standard, and to comply with it at least most of the time. Sir would occasionally reward your compliance with a treat like a single ice cream bar or 20 minutes of free time.

October you asked again to become a jock, or a frat boy, again, but Sir, tight-lipped, shook his head. You hadn’t learned your lesson. Stripped of all clothing, you winced as you were shaved head to toe, and a chastity cage was forced on and locked. You were rubbed with lube before being covered in a thick black rubber suit that covered your entire body, zips held closed with a dozen miniature padlocks. You were let out of rubber only for your brief, intense workouts—for public matters, a thinner rubber suit that left your arms and legs exposed was fastened on you, after which you donned a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, black Converses and a black snapback. Half the time, a large plug was shoved up your ass. You didn’t have a strict schedule any more, but the punishments more than made up for it. Perhaps your entire existence was one punishment. You were beaten, forced into painful positions, your balls stretched, made to drink piss and eat from the floor. You slept in a large dog cage. Slowly, you got used to it, hastened by Sir’s hypnosis and brainwashing sessions. You realized how much effort Sir was putting into the training and resolved not to disappoint him again. The border between pain and pleasure disappeared, and you grew content in the moment, constant intense sensations forcing your attention on the present. For Halloween you were paraded out in your full rubber suit, a collar and leash around your neck.

November you knelt, bound, ready for the next layer of intensity, for a fresh round of humiliation and torture. You accepted whatever Sir might inflict upon you. But he untied you, let you out, gently cleaned you in the bathtub, and had you lie on a towel. It was only when you felt a soft, pillowy sensation enveloping your chastity cage that you realized what he’d planned. You had a large wardrobe of brightly colored T-shirts and pants and a full rack of chunky sneakers. There were rules, of course, particularly around bedtime, screen time, and getting your diaper changed, but you were otherwise free to play as you wished. The lack of punishment initially seemed wrong, like cheating, but you settled into your new pampered lifestyle as Sir gently encouraged you and occasionally told you life stories to learn from. By the end of the month, you were making cucumber sandwiches like a pro, wearing a cartoon sandwich T-shirt and overalls.

December Sir trimmed the sides and back of your head, undressed you, unlocked you from chastity, and showed you to yet another set of clothing. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he didn’t tell you what you were supposed to become, just smiled and walked out of the room. No kinky gear or implements anywhere, just a fleshlight in the back of the drawer, behind the boxer shorts and miscellaneous patterned shirts and jeans. Sir just kind of...left you alone, not telling you when to wake up or what any consequences of anything would be. With the horniness from the previous months of chastity and discipline built up, you started to jerk off at least three times a day. Sitting at the dinner table with Sir eating pizza, you asked him what this was all about. It felt so wrong.

“Boy, this month I’m showing you what you haven’t had for several years: a ‘normal’ lifestyle. No control, no schedule, no denial, no punishments, just...freedom. You shouldn’t forget, I can give you any transformation I desire, and this month I want you to be a regular guy. What’s light without shadow, a vessel without the internal emptiness, a crisp autumn day without the muggy summer before it?”

Almost crying at this point, you nodded. You’d taken all this kinky artifice for granted, assumed that last month was Sir’s way of letting you off easy even though you were in diapers. You had gotten so accustomed to Sir’s control that you’d let yourself get tired of living your deepest fantasies as a prep and a jock.

You stood up. “Sir,” you started, about to apologize, about to thank him, about to tell him how much you loved him, but you pushed your face into his and gave him a deep kiss, inserting your tongue, feeling his warm mouth relax in pleasure. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you tighter, and you were together, equals now. Wait, equals? That didn’t feel right.

You pulled his arms behind his back and scowled. “I love you. That’s why I’m going to do to you what you did to me. We’ll start with you as a jock.” Sir’s eyes widened. You kept your face stern, but worried he’d find some way to punish you. Suddenly, Sir sat up and straightened his shoulders. “Sir, yes Sir!” he yelled. And so, another year began, with a Sir and boy playing through various transformations, except the Sir and boy were reversed this time, and a few times, for a month at a stretch, they’d stop and live as equals, just to appreciate what they had. Appreciate each other they most certainly did.