#loved writing this part ngl

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! Catwin motorcycle au part 9.

still sfw, for now *cackles* x

Around 9:30pm, Edwin knows it's a mistake, to be drinking as much as he is. But the wine is good, a proper vintage, the kind one reserves for special occasions, the armchair is warm and comfortable, and also, the company. Thomas is making him laugh. He's telling some hilarious story, incredibly hard to believe yet endearingly earnest, with lots of arm waving and smothered giggles, as he struggles to recount the time his dorm mate’s cats took off with his clothes, after sneaking into the bathroom while he was showering. 

"And I'm not about to go chasing after them wearing nothing but a smile," Thomas shrugs wildly. "He had his girlfriend over, in the common room, and it was kind of going good for him this time, so I couldn’t exactly add a naked scruff chasing two cats down the hallway to that? So, they dash away, laughing their little heads off if they could, and I have to tiptoe slowly back across the hall to my bedroom, wearing my dirty old socks, clinging to my last shred of dignity." 

"Oh gods." Edwin collapses into a fit of giggles, turning red, as he pictures it in his head.   

"Babe," Thomas sips his wine, leans forward, his face dead serious, "when I tell you that it was the worst timing for his girl to get up off the couch and- " 

"Oh gods!" Edwin waves his hands in front of him, he really doesn't want to hear about that part. He collapses back into his chair, laughing so hard that he snorts through his nose, the sound joined and mixing with Thomas’ own delighted giggles.  

The night continues. It must be after 11 by now.   

Edwin is opening up a bit about London, what it was like to live there. Thomas has never been, though he tells him he hopes to one day visit. Edwin's rambling about the hidden treasures of London, how to avoid the tourist traps, what he’d show and recommend to Thomas, when the latter suddenly bursts out laughing, interrupts him with a heavy hand on his arm. "Ghostie, Edwin, have to stop you there," he smiles, lopsided, completely losing his composure, almost spilling the last of his wine, "you've been speaking the most unintelligible British English for five minutes, and I can't follow a single word!"  

Edwin buries his face in his hands, by the time he's done laughing there are tears running down his face. 

In the corner of his blurred vision, he sees Thomas get up, fetch another bottle of wine.  

The incessant, rhythmic buzzing by his face is quite possibly the most obnoxious noise Edwin has ever encountered in his life. He wants to kill it. Throw it across the room, stomp it out of existence. He manages to gather enough of his wits to simply smack the offending device with one hand, knock it away. He hears a clatter, and then… silence.   

Even the absence of sound seems to hurt. Oh god. My head.   

It feels like his brain has been hollowed out during the night, then shoddily put back together, with duct tape and rocks. As soon as Edwin's fully awake, he can feel the room spinning. Closing his eyes does nothing to alleviate the dizziness, quick on its heels is a fiery hot wave of nausea.   

Blearily opening one eye, trying to focus on his surroundings, he ticks off a mental checklist. It's morning, he's in his bed. In his own house. His shoes are on the floor near the bed. His belt is by his shoes. His jacket hangs on the closet door, his watch is on the nightstand. He's wearing the pants and shirt he wore to the picnic yesterday, and the covers have been kicked off the bed, onto the floor.  Also, he feels like he's been run over by a motorcycle.   

Edwin thinks back on the previous night, realizes with a fair amount of horror, he actually drank enough to black out. There's a rather significant portion of the night that he just can't remember.  Most conspicuously missing, is how exactly he got upstairs, into bed. And where is Thomas? 

Sitting up is a challenge, he tackles it slowly, bit by bit. Once upright, his body protests violently at being disturbed, rushing him to the bathroom. What comes up is mostly liquid. On top of drinking enough to temporarily drown his brain, he recalls that he didn't eat much the previous day either. Not that he laments any real loss at missing out on the church picnic. He does berate himself, being so careless with his drinking, as he fills the sink with cold water, unceremoniously dunks his whole head in it. He must look ridiculous, but it feels so good. It takes away the dull ache of nausea, anyway.   

Staring at himself in the mirror, Edwin sends a base thanks to anyone willing to listen that at least it’s Sunday, and he’s not supposed to be at work already. He’d seriously consider calling out sick, something he’s never done in all the years he’s worked at the school. Drying himself off with a towel, Edwin tries to compose himself. While not an official school day, he, as a teacher, still has papers left to grade, tests to prepare. He dresses slowly, makes his way downstairs. The nausea has mostly subsided, but his head is still pounding, and he feels overwhelmingly dehydrated. If there are any bottles of wine left in his pantry, Edwin resolves to pour them down the sink.  

When he enters the kitchen, he finds Thomas, drinking pitch black coffee, with a stone serious expression. He has an ice pack resting on his head as he reads the paper, blinking as the words obviously don’t register, Edwin figures he looks a fair bit like Edwin feels. When he sees his host entering the room, Thomas fumbles for words a bit, but collects himself, manages a wry grin.  "Overdid it a bit, didn't we?" 

Edwin nods, sits across from him, feeling like he's aged 50 years in one night. "I need water. I need some sort of caffeine. And then I have work to do." 

Thomas immediately takes on the task, expertly throwing two pieces of bread into the toaster, pouring an extra cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. He puts it in front of Edwin, returns to the kitchen counter for the now toasted bread and a glass of cold water.   

Edwin takes a sip of the water first, it's so cold he can feel it traveling all the way down his throat, into his stomach. "Thank you, my friend." He sighs in relief, braving a few nibbles of the dry toast, starting in on the coffee. "Forgive me, there is a lot from last night I don't remember." 

"Oh yeah?" Thomas hums, gets up to refill his own mug with more coffee. 

"I haven't lost time like that in ages, not since I was much younger. I honestly can't recall how the night ended, or getting in my bed at all." 

"No worries, I remember all of that. I carried you up the stairs, but you made a valid effort of your own, in your defence. S'a good thing we stayed home instead of going to a bar though, don’t think either of our legs, or any limbs really, would’ve been steady enough for a ride home. That was some good vintage."  

Edwin frowns, rests his head on his arm. "Don't drive drunk ever," he scolds weakly, "I'd be very upset if you were killed in some horrible accident." 

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I would’ve gotten us a taxi, babe." Thomas chuckles, refreshing Edwin's cup.   

"Did… Did you put me to bed?" Edwin murmurs into his arm, too embarrassed to make eye-contact.  He almost keeps the question to himself, but the curiosity is killing him.  And his history as an affectionate drunk, poses the ever-more embarrassing unspoken question; what exactly had he said last night, if anything? 

Immediately, Edwin can tell that Thomas is watching his words. "Yeah. You were three sheets to the wind, so after I walked you upstairs, I just made sure to put you on your side." He gives a good-natured smile, choosing to lean against at the table, inhaling the scent of the coffee.   

"Not too much trouble, I hope? It's been a long time since I've had that much to drink in one sitting." 

"Nah, Edwin. You were fine."  He says it with a thread of finality, Edwin can't help but feel that it's not the whole story. But he doesn't have the energy, the brain cells, the confidence to figure it out right now. He gulps down the water, munches the toast, sips the last of the coffee. He feels like something resembling a human again, afterwards, he feels like maybe it's possible to finish out the day without further ailments. He shoots a thankful smile at Thomas. 

"Do you have any plans today?"   

"Was thinking of a walk. Get a bit more of a sense of the neighbourhood? It's a nice day, I could use the exercise." Thomas stretches his arms to the ceiling as he talks, and perhaps Edwin’s head isn’t that fully clear yet, because he permits himself a peek at the muscled torso displayed as a result, without a shred of guilt. Maybe it’s the same kind of guilt-less, freeing kind of confidence, that drives Edwin forward. 

"That sounds like a good idea, actually," Edwin retrieves his coat from the front hall closet, "I'll join you, come on. Let’s steady our legs." 

The weather is quite nice, the neighbourhood a calm picturesque backdrop. Edwin ponders it might actually be enjoyable, if they didn’t walk side by side, swinging wildly from awkward, stilted small talk, to complete silence. It feels like torture. Edwin is sure that he somehow utterly embarrassed himself last night, and Thomas is too kind, or worse, too mortified to bring it up. If only he could remember, but it's not coming back to him. There are several times where Edwin finds himself leaning or straight up bumping into Thomas, as his feet struggle to task on auto-pilot, while Edwin’s mind is racing. 

On one such brush of their shoulders, Edwin tilts his head to apologize, when a flash, an image, comes unbidden to his mind; Thomas's face, in quite a close proximity to his own. That happened last night, as well. Thomas looked tired, but amused, and he's saying something. Edwin replays the image in his mind, again, again, like a broken record. The complete image is so close, so within his grasp, yet so far away, intangible.  Again and again, he pores over the memory, certain that it's from last night.  Thomas's face, close by, slightly above his own? That would only make sense if he was leaning over him, considering the man isn’t naturally taller than him. Thomas looking at him, then looking away.  Looking at him, then looking away. Saying something. Saying something with a wry grin, sympathetic eyes.   

This memory can't be from his imagination. It's from last night, and his damn brain won't give up the clues.   

He's interrupted by the present. "Edwin, are you okay?" He hums in reply, already knowing the other won’t be convinced. "Come on Ghostie, we’re going home.” A strong arm wraps around his waist, warm hand dipping lower, steadying pressure on his hip. “I think a nice nap on the couch might make you feel better."   

Edwin smiles. Thomas is a good, caring man. 

Make you feel better. 

Feel better. 

When you feel better. 

Maybe when you feel better- 

Listen, when you feel better- 

You're not yourself, but when you're feeling better- 

"Listen Ghostie, babe," a gentle, reassuring voice, "you're not yourself right now. But, maybe, when you're feeling better, you could ask me again?" 

Edwin feels his face go white, he’s grateful for the arm around him, as he suddenly feels dizzy.   

Oh. Oh no. Oh Hells. 

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part three

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.4k

You woke again nearing midday and, as expected, Ale was nowhere to be found. If it weren’t for the still sensitive marks that she left on your neck and the soreness between your thighs, you would’ve thought it was all a pleasant dream. Something on your nightstand caught your eye as you stretched and when you picked it up, all the remaining doubt shattered. 

On the piece of paper was a phone number with a little note that said ‘text me?’ and you couldn’t help the grin that made its way to your lips at the drawn smiley face at the end of it. You picked your phone up, added her to your contacts and sent her a hello-it’s-me text, noted the notification of an email from Derek, and then you got out of bed to get ready for the day.

When you returned to the bedroom from your shower, a message from Ale was waiting for you. 

‘Hey, good morning! Listen, as much as I’d love to… have fun with you again, I can’t see you the next few days.’

You laughed at the varying degrees of sad emojis that superseded her text. Then you messaged her back. 

‘That’s fine. Just text me when you’re free. And you already know where I am so…’

You abandoned your phone after that in favor of your laptop as you remembered Derek’s email. Upon opening your mail, you found it immediately.

‘Good news. Robert sealed a deal with a client and they want you to follow FC Barcelona in their Liga F campaign this season. We got 5 match passes so far–Robert believes that the client might be inclined to commission for more photos depending on how the club progresses throughout the season.

Find the passes in the attachment as well as the in-depth commission details but in short, apart from the customary team photos, they want photos of the following players prioritised in order: Alexia Putellas, Maria ‘Mapi’ Leon, and Caroline Graham Hansen. I’ll leave the research to you.

On an informal note, the window to decline is still open. As previously discussed, you don’t have to do this. Let me know what you decide as soon as possible.’

You checked the attached files and sure enough, you found the passes for Barcelona’s matches against the following clubs: Real Madrid, Roma, Alhama, Atletico Madrid, and Sporting Huelva. You noted the date for the one against Real Madrid–it was in a couple of days, the same one Ale suggested and a thrill of excitement went down your spine at the thought of possibly seeing her again. Maybe you should message her to let her know that you were going. 

You sent a confirmation to Derek before you created a new tab to begin your research. ‘Alexia Putellas’, you typed and hit enter. When the results came back, you stilled. 

You blinked. 

Then you blinked again.

Of all the places you’d expect to find Ale’s face, a search result about a professional football player was the last thing you could think of. But memories flashed unbidden through your mind: the exclusive night club, Ale’s vague answer about her job, the way her eyes shone whenever you mentioned sports or football, her reflexes, her physique, Ale… Alexia–it all made sense now. 

Groaning, you put your face in your hands as your cheeks and ears burnt from the embarrassment that flooded your veins. Oh, how dense could you get! She must’d thought you ignorant for not knowing who she was. Foolish! 

But then again… if she didn’t get a kick out of you not knowing, why did she allow the second time to happen? And why promise a third? The thought calmed you down enough to decide not to text Ale–no, Alexia–about this like you’d originally planned especially since you were most likely going to see her at the game anyway.

After another moment to regain your composure for the time being, you proceeded with your research. You clicked on an article, and an article lead to another, which carried you over to a video, and so on. By the end of it, evening had settled and you only managed to discover little. But from what you found out, there was no question to Alexia Putellas’ nascent legacy, both on and off the pitch–an undisputed, modern trailblazer for current and new generations of female athletes. You were gutted to know about her ACL injury though–a quick deviated search made it known to you how serious of an injury it was, especially for an athletic career–and you wondered when she would be able to play again or if she would be playing in the match against Real Madrid. After all, she did say she was going to be there.

You wrapped up your research about Alexia then and you finally moved on to Mapi Leon, then Caroline Graham Hansen. Afterwards, you briefed yourself on the rest of Barcelona Femeni’s 1st Division players as well as the rules of football to come up with a strategy to tackle this task.

A mixture of anxiety and excitement rushed through you as you settled in for the night at the thought of seeing Alexia again now that you know about her identity. You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into the moment you let her take you to the dance floor but the pull was there from the very beginning. And you decided you were going to see this through to the end.

No. This wasn’t going to change anything at all.

–––

There it was: Estadi Johan Cruyff, home to Barcelona Femeni, stood proud in its blue and red glory.

There was still about an hour and a half left before kickoff but already, people had gathered and started to enter the stadium, you being one of them. Security scanned your press pass as you entered and you were told to head through a different corridor which lead you out to the pitch. Once inside, it was no surprise that the stadium’s interior was no less grand than the outside, the well-tended grass was just a taste to the quality that this place had to offer. 

Greeting the other photographers who’d settled in earlier as you walked, you searched for a spot and found it by the space adjacent to the corner flag farthest from the tunnel entrance. There, you placed your duffel bag and your portable stool as you worked to set up your equipment: you double-checked the batteries, attached the right lens to your camera, unwounded your monopod and connected it to your camera. 

By the time you looked up, there was already a significant crowd awaiting the players for their warm-ups. You took this chance to take a few shots of the still half-filled stadium, tweaking your settings as you did so and you waited for the players to come out.

About an hour before kickoff, you spied movements inside the tunnel and immediately, your eye was to your viewfinder.

Players from both teams emerged from the tunnel and names popped in your head as you scanned the faces from Barcelona, taking shots of them as they stepped foot on the grass and took off in a jog. There was no sign of Alexia though but you spotted two of your marks on the pitch so you wasted no time to frame them in your camera.

A moment later though, you heard a sudden cheer from the crowd followed by a collective flutter of camera shutters. You lifted your eye from the viewfinder, turned your head to the side and saw that your fellow photographers had their cameras focused to the direction of the tunnel entrance. Your heart quickened. Could it be? And sure enough as you looked to the sidelines, you could make out Alexia’s blonde hair and her unmistakable silhouette. Through your camera’s lens you were able to see her better. 

Alexia had on a black leather jacket paired with a top that revealed a strip of skin before the cut of her jeans, finishing her look off with a pair sneakers on and loose blonde hair. She was conversing with her coach, bumping fists and patting the backs of players from both teams who went over to greet her. Then she turned to the stands, waved at their supporters, and she moved close enough for pictures and autographs. She gave one last wave to the fans, shouted an encouraging word to her teammates with a fist in the air, before she headed back into the tunnel. While all of this was happening, you’d framed her through your lens yourself, taking the photos you needed, cheeks warm despite the cooling afternoon air. 

Then all the Barcelona players jogged over to the sidelines and huddled, side to side, arm in arm. You took a shot. Not long after that, all of them left the pitch. 

The game was about to start. 

Alexia wasn’t lying when she said the stadium would get crowded: the stands were filled with blues and reds, flags were flown and waved about, chanted anthems resounded loud and proud in the air–the atmosphere was nothing short of electric. 

You’d moved by the sideline close to the tunnel entrance for the beginning of the match along with your fellow photographers so you could capture Barcelona’s starting eleven. When the players came out, they were welcomed by singing and cheers from the crowd. And as they stood there, you took photos of the entire team first before you moved on to focus on Mapi and Caroline. 

When the whistle blew and the match began, you were back to your original spot, looking to the stands above the tunnel entrance as you tried to pick Alexia out from the sea of faces through your camera. You managed to a few minutes later, and you found her looking rather pensive: one arm crossed over her chest, the other resting on it as she rubbed her chin with her thumb, eyes focused down at the pitch with her brows slightly creased. It looked like longing to you, a burning desire to return home–to start playing football again. The sight evoked such a feeling in you that you couldn’t help but capture the moment. This shot, however, you were going to keep for yourself.

 Now that you knew where Alexia was, following the client’s requisites just got a lot easier. Up until the final whistle, you immersed yourself in your work and the game, focusing more on Mapi and Caroline as they were playing. There were times that allowed you to shift your camera to the stands to where Alexia was and took shots of her, too. By the time you knew it, the game ended and Barcelona won 1-0.

You expected a celebration from Barcelona because they were in their turf after all so you loaded up your camera with a freshly charged battery. The next thing you knew, Alexia was there with the team, hugging and patting them congratulations and her teammates beamed at her, happy to see her there. 

Click You took a shot. 

The players then began their procession around the stadium, waving at and signing things for their supporters. Through your camera, you saw Mapi signing the shirt of a young girl. Click. Next to her was Caroline, reaching over the barrier to sign a ball, smiling as she talked to the boy holding it. Click. 

The procession was near enough that you could hear their banters, growing louder as they approached where you were and the beating of your heart thumped as loud as the chants from the crowd. You congratulated the players as they passed and kept your camera away out of respect. You looked at the end of the line and you met Alexia’s gaze. She was smiling at you while she talked to Irene Paredes beside her and she never took her eyes off you. There was a gleam in them, something akin to mischief and… a challenge? If so, why? 

At that you raised an unimpressed brow at her, both a question and a statement. Your reaction seemed to amuse her because her smile turned into a full smirk.

The procession passed but Alexia lagged behind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Irene who threw Alexia a questioning look. You watched as Alexia waved her off before she began walking your way and you didn’t miss the fluttering of shutters from your fellow photographers’ cameras. Some called Alexia’s name to get her attention but she ignored them, her attention only at you. You barely had enough time to school your features and hide any signs of familiarity before she was standing in front of you.

“Hey, you. You made it here after all.” Alexia said cooly, lips slanted in a half-smile, one hand in a jean pocket.

“Yeah, I did. Sorry, but do I know you?” You asked in an excessively dry tone paired with an raised eyebrow, but you made sure your voice was just loud enough for her to hear. Catching your drift, Alexia laughed, rubbing the bridge of her nose to try and cover it up. 

“I suppose not,” she extended a hand towards you, “I’m Alexia, and I’m sorry about… you know.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Alexia. Congratulations on the win, by the way.” You shook her hand, ignored the way her warmth seeped into your skin, and hummed. “You know, you remind me of someone I know. Your resemblance to her is uncanny.”

Alexia nodded as she took her hand back, lips quirked. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I think she also wants to know if she could stop by later tonight?” 

Your cheeks warmed and you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “I did tell her she could whenever she’s free.”

“So, yes?”

“Yes.”

———

You braced your weight against the headboard, forehead over your folded arms, eyes barely open and the erotic sight in front of you did nothing to help the building flood in you. With your thighs bracing her head and from this angle, you could only see Alexia’s closed eyes but you felt her hands roaming and supporting your lower back as her mouth and tongue worked on you. 

She was taking her sweet time though, brushing her tongue over your clit lightly, sucking just enough to build up the pleasure but nothing too much to bring you over the edge. You whined because she did it again only with more pressure this time, circling your clit a few times before she moved away again. You were starting to learn that she liked to play; she liked to take her time and get as many reactions from you until she was satisfied, until she’d completely unravelled you.

A particularly cruel swipe of her tongue, accompanied by the obscenely wet sound it made, nearly incited a sob from your lips but the plea you made was nothing short of similar.

“Ale… please…” You panted.

“–my name.”

“Huh?” You whined out, not hearing what Alexia said after a flick from her tongue sent shivers down your spine.

“Say my name.”

Then she circled your clit with more urgency after she said that–demanding. You keened and ignored her, canting your hips forward to chase that delicious friction you were desperately searching for. 

“Ale… Ale… please!”

Then she stilled completely and you cried out in protest, eyes flying open to meet lidded hazel ones.

“What–”

“Say my name.” She licked your inner thigh deliberately close to where you wanted it the most.

“Alexia, pl–” You didn’t even need to beg because right after her name left your mouth, overwhelming heat was all you could feel as she ate you out earnestly. Her hands gripped your thighs so tight that you wouldn’t be able to pull away–not that you could ever do such a thing.

“Oh, fuck!” 

Euphoria tore through your body in concurrent waves with brutal intensity that it ripped the strength from your bones while your muscles shook helplessly. Even the gentle touches from Alexia tongue as she cleaned you up were enough to make you hiss from overstimulation. 

God… she really did a number on you this time.

After you finally calmed down, you shifted so that you could lay by Alexia’s side, kissing your way up from the column of her neck to her lips where you found your taste heavy on her tongue. You dragged your fingers from the crest of her hip to her breast, feeling the ridges of her hard-earned muscles as you did so and revelled in the way they tensed beneath your touch, the softness of her breast a beautiful contrast to the firmness of her stomach.

Alexia gasped when you rolled her nipple between your fingers and you gladly swallowed it as you deepened the kiss. You slotted your leg to apply pressure between her thighs, ample wetness coated your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at her arousal.

You nipped a path down between the valley of her breasts but not before you had given both of her nipples the attention they deserved. You continued your journey, licking and nipping at her skin as you moved down her toned stomach.

As soon as you reached her navel, she parted her legs to make space for you. You kissed her inner thighs, loving the way they tensed beneath your lips and as you trailed closer to her core, you flashed your gaze upwards to meet hers. When you finally got the first taste of her tonight, you watched intently through lidded eyes as she closed hers, dropping her head on the pillow and sighed out a long, low moan. 

You gave her a few slow and broad strokes, closing your eyes as you savoured her taste. When she began to urge her hips quicker, you picked up your pace all the while mapping her thighs and stomach with your palms.

You found you liked how responsive she was to your touches, liked the way she demanded for more which you gladly gave to her as she asked for them. And when she cradled the back of your head and buried her fingers in your hair so she could meet your tongue the way she wanted it, you moaned loudly, taking from the way she took hers from you.

“Yes, right there, just–” Her back arched and you clung to her hips like a lifeline. You rolled your tongue against her and sucked, not wanting to disrupt the pace of her fall. 

And fall, she did.

She came on your tongue and you accepted it with a grateful moan, slowing down your pace as she came back down from her high. It was sticky and heady, a reward that you lapped up eagerly, and from the pleased way Alexia threaded her fingers through your hair, she was satisfied. Like her, you took your time cleaning her up because after all it was only polite to do so and you enjoyed the way her leg muscle tensed when you kissed her clit one last time. 

Content with your work, you kissed the top of her left thigh as a form of gratitude but instead of making your way up, you traced the line of muscle that lead down to her knee where scars from her injury had carved themselves permanently into her skin.

You’d kissed those same scars the last time you were together without knowing the story behind them and now that you know, you dragged your lips over them ever more softly, looking Alexia in the eye as you did so. She watched you intently with lips slightly parted, eyes dark and lidded.

Alexia bent forward so she could reach out to you, lifting your chin with a gentle hand. Then she brushed her thumb over your upper lip to wipe the wetness there but before she could pull it away, you parted your lips and took her thumb into you mouth, sucking and licking off the taste there, never taking your eyes off hers.

“My god,” came her breathless murmur before she moaned out, “come here.”

Then she guided you to her mouth with her gentle grip on your chin and before you knew it, you were under her again, sighing in grateful surrender to the mercy of her and her hands. She kissed and ravaged you many times over–and you, her–that by the end of the night, you’d completely forgotten the weight of her name.

[jaxieus]

Johan things from twitter

Punk/emo Johan and eating a burger

Johan playing the ps2

[dickinfectionbez]

"when are you going to ask my brother out?" Cele asked, flipping the page of his book.

Bez choked on his own spit at how casually Celin asked. As if he was asking the time and not revealing that he knew Bez's deepest secret. He stared at Cele for a second before answering. "What are you talking about?" Celestino looked up from his book with a pointed look. "Okay I like your brother. But I'm not asking him out." Bez stayed still, praying the blush on his face wasn't visible. "Fine be like that." Cele said, putting his book down. "But when Pecco gets a boyfriend and you have to watch him be happy don't say I didn't push you."

He got up, book and phone in hand as he left the living room to go to his own. Celestino opened his phone and shot a text to Franky.

Cele: They like each other. Pecco said so, Bez just pretend not to. Both refuse to tell each other.

Franky: fucking idiots

The week passed on without many difficulties, Bez and Pecco connected at the hip. At breakfast they would be sitting next to each other, sharing a plate. Cele watched them, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They spent the rest of the day on the track, racing until they got tired and flopped down on the sofa, leathers in a pile on the floor. Celin walked through the living room, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. Reaching his wits end, he marched into his dad's room and flopped face down onto their bed.

Vale was busy with preparing for his next WEC so Marc sat down on the bed, a hand running up and down Celestino's back. "They're idiots." He said into the duvet. "Dumb as balls." Marc laughed, knowing exactly what his younger son was talking about. I know amor." He said, "it's not like we can lock them in a room and tell them how the other feels." Celestino popped his head up and looked at his dad as the cogs turned in his mind.

While Bez and Pecco slept on the sofa, tired from riding, Cele recruited the help of Mig and Franky. Together they swapped the doorknob of Pecco's bedroom to one that could only be locked with a key. Bez and Pecco woke up from their nap, joining everyone for dinner before going to bed. Celestino dangled the key between his fingers as he went to bed, prepared to put his plan into action in the morning.

Moning came with Bez and Pecco spending the early hours awake in bed. They heard a pair of keys, and then the sound of a lock turning. Bez looked at Pecco confused as the door unlocked. Cele opened the door and poked his head through the gap, "Pecco has had a crush on you since you guys were 16, and Bez has had a crush on you since you started dating that weird blonde." Celestino told them both before slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside.

Pecco stood embarrassed, face bright red as he sneaked a glance towards Bez. His friend was beet red, face in his hands avoiding eye contact. Pecco sat on the floor in silence, both of them wishing the other didn't hear what Celestino said. Pecco didn't know how long it had been before someone unlocked the door. Celestino opened the door, confused at the silence as Bez pushed past. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Pecco asked angrily. Cele froze, scared of his older brother as Pecco continued. "I fucking told you I wasn't going to tell him and now look. Bez won't even look me in the fucking eye." Celestino opened his mouth before being cut off. "Don't fucking bother Celestino." Pecco said, pushing Cele out and taking the key from bim. He slammed the door shut and locked the door, lying down on his bed, sobbing into his pillow.

The next day was awkward, nobody talking to each other. Pecco watched his younger brother slip into the kitchen, eyes looking down with guilt. He put his plate and the keys to his room on the counter and engulfed Cele in a hug. "I'm sorry." Celestino whispered, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to help." Pecco kissed his forehead, "it's okay. I'm sorry for shouting at you." Cele sniffed as Pecco looked up to see Bez watching them. Pecco left go of Celin and gestured for Bez to follow him into his room.

Bez closed the door behind himself, the pair listening to the lock click into place. "We need to talk." Pecco said as he sat down on his bed, laying down. Bez lay down next to him. "He wasn't lying about any of it." Pecco closed his eyes at the confession. Bez's words flying over him and fluttering down onto his face. "I know." He replied as he stretched his hand out, pinky searching for Bez's. "What should we do?" Bez knocked his pinky against Pecco's. "What do you want?" Pecco asked. Bez huffed, interlocking their pinky fingers together.

"I want to kiss you."

Pecco opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Bez who was already looking at him earnestly. Something in Pecco stirred, something he didn't let himself think about. His blood felt hot and hand felt as if it was made of lead as he cupped Bez's face. Bez shuffled forwards, closing the space between them. They kissed, cautiously at first, exploring if this was right. Pecco pulled away, lips parted slightly as he looked at Bez. Bez had a starstruck look on his face that Pecco could only guess mirrored his own. Bez nodded and Pecco leaned in once more, this time a little harsher. Bez's hand snaked over Pecco's waist, sliding up his shier as Pecco's hand found itself down the back of Bez's trousers.

They continued kissing, pulling away for a split second and diving back in, unaware of their surroundings. The door opened, the key in Cele's hand as he barged in. "Papa says dinner is-" he stopped mid sentence, backing away from the pair and out the room, slamming the door shut with a scream.

[blu-ish]

Guess who had an Idea for a fanfic. sighhh

[daz4i]

wait so chuuya has angel imagery about him in stormbringer. and dazai is referred to as a demon on more than one occasion. and. hold on. wait. I'm going insane. hold on.

[decisions-at-3am]

You took me to watch the sunset. Dutifully, I gazed at the hues Softly streaking across the sky. Golden light mixing with blue.

Truthfully, all I wanted Was to gaze upon you. Take in all your features, Your eyes so deep and true.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

The backlash against Frozen, which, from my observation, has cooled down (that isn't a joke, I swear-) quite a bit over the past few years, was less based on the quality of the movie itself and more on the fact that its massive success and reach really overshadowed a lot of other movies that came out prior to it and after it and was getting credited for stuff that had already been done before plenty of times, and in many cases, in those exact movies. This is why, to this day, many fans STILL refuse to give Tangled its props without trying to put Frozen down in some way. In their eyes, Tangled should have gotten the glory and accolades Frozen received, but did not, and that made them quite jealous. Overall, Frozen is far from a bad movie. It's a great movie with a great message, characters, music and does actually deserve the success and recognition it got, and some fans need to stop being so salty about it and uplift their fav movies without putting Frozen down so they get the proper appreciation they deserve as well. Although, yes, the credit this movie got for allegedly introducing themes, archetypes and tropes that had already been seen before in Disney, including movies set in a fairytale world with heroines as the protags, was undoubtedly the most annoying part about its success and is part of the reason why many tried to drag this movie and its main leads.

[yanderespamton78]

Pinup!!!!! the baby!!!! the guy!!!!

sorry if this looks kinda iffy the majority of this was drawn between 11pm and 2:30am so i was very tired loll

also yes that is a totoro bag i dont care if totoro doesnt exist in cyber city he has a totoro bag come at me

Pinup belongs to @turntableart

[waterlinkedgirl]

Musical Touken Ranbu: Gou on Stage ~ Satomi Hakkenden; New Edition english sub

At long long last I am able to present you the subtitles for the senshuuraku of Goumyu! After a very turbulent year, I'm glad to be lowkey picking up subtitling again. For this performance, though, I won't be able to do a tl notes file. If I were fair to myself, I'd allow myself to write my grievances with what Goumyu's plot does to what had been established for Kogitsunemaru and Mikazuki when those are relevant, but if I were fair to you all, I wouldn't give you a file that's 90% complaining and 10% actual notes or background.

Don't let my grievances distract from the performance though, it's still genuinely fantastic even if the theming choices may be painful to me. Especially Oodenta is fantastic. Goodness gracious.

Keep in mind that this is only the subtitle file, timed and tled to the DMM senshuuraku. The archive version will have a talk at the start, so the starting times of the subs will have to be delayed accordingly.

Download the subs for Goumyu here!

[thorns-in-daisy-fields]

"A person in two months can show you

what a person in five years couldn't..."

I always loved that quote.

I didn't realize until recently 

that I hadn't fully grasped it

before.

A person in five years

took all my time,

attention,

and energy,

hoarding it all up 

with a dragon like

greed. 

He drained me;

slowly dimmed me of my light. 

First, I stopped drawing,

then, I fell out of love with writing.

Before I knew it,

my self expression was dead

and I felt

lost. 

I knew something was wrong,

I just didn't realize

that something 

was him. 

In two months

someone new filled me

back up. 

They walked into my life,

and jumped in to help me

undo the damage

he'd done. 

I've started drawing again,

and I hope

I'll fall in love with writing again,

too.

-"Time doesn't mean anything. Character does."

[rexscanonwife]

Against my better judgement I'm watching more of the 2016 ppg reboot and lemme tell you something. I HAAAAAAATE the way they write Utonium I HATE IT!!!

But sometimes there'll be a little moment here or there where he's kinda...cute > ^ <

[teecupangel]

I have some headcanons for the MLP x AC crossover!

I think for the MLP x AC crossover, Desmond would be an alicorn like the princess ponies. I could see him with flowy hair like Celestia and with a similar cutie mark.

I could see Altaïr and Ezio being pegasus ponies with eagle wings. Altaïr would have a Hidden Blade or a book as his cutie mark because he searches for knowledge. Ezio would have the Auditore crest or an Eagle because of his loyalty to family.

I could see pony! Ezio, Altaïr, and Desmond having to team up to defeat Discord, who is likely the offspring of the Isu.

What's your opinion on these ideas?

@requiescat-in-pace-bastardo

The initial My Little Pony AU idea (well, Desmond's initial pony design anyway) for those curious.

I was thinking “yeah, I can’t draw that many ponies XD” and I remember I actually knew someone who could.

So here’s @scrysthea’s work based on nonny’s and my ideas.

I included Ratonhnhaké:ton because if we’re going to make them ponies, let’s give the ‘complete set’ (sorry, Edward.)

I kinda like the idea that Desmond is a successor to their ‘ruler’ (whether this ruler is Amunet or an unknown pony is up to you) but he doesn’t like being the successor because everyone expect too much of him.

Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton are his childhood friends turned guards so there’s a bit of conflict there. Like, Desmond has been with them for so long that he trusts them fully but the countless times other ponies had seen him as not living up to the high standards they expect from a successor had shattered his self-esteem. He tries to hide it by smiling and ignoring it but there’s always a whisper in his mind that questions if they care for him because they like him or his ‘failures’ had made them think of him as more of a burden that needs to be protected because it’s their duty.

Of course, that could be farther from the truth and they had been the one to insist that they be Desmond’s guards, knowing how much their friend had suffered from the eyes of strangers who think of him as a successor, not a child being given too much burden.

I kinda like the idea that Desmond’s alicorn form is ‘hidden’ and the form I drew before with Desmond wearing a hoodie is what he usually looks like. His low self-esteem sorta hindered his growth and he wears a hood because he believes he has no horn (that’s not true. It’s just a bit too little right now).

And that’s why the ruler decided that Desmond should go on a quest!

“A quest to find the kind of ruler you wish to be.”

………. and also because Discord needs to be beaten again.

The ruler has complete trust that Desmond would succeed and find the path he wishes to take.

Desmond agrees because it wasn’t like he can actually say no to their ruler.

He also makes the ruler agree that, if Desmond loses to Discord or if he returns after defeating Discord but not knowing what kind of ruler he wants to become, the ruler must pick another successor. (he even gives the name of his guards as his replacement because, in his eyes, they’re better choices that he could ever be).

The ruler agrees and Desmond sets out on his quest with his guards (who didn’t know about the ‘deal’ he and the ruler have).

During their quests, they meet other ponies and, away from the scrutinizing eyes of the other ponies that was surrounding him growing up, Desmond slowly starts to realize that he does have what it takes to be the ruler.

Fighting Discord (maybe even go the cliché but still heart-string pulling setup of Desmond finally awakening into his alicorn form to protect his friends or because of his friends’ words of encouragement and defending Desmond from Discord preying on his insecurities during the heat of the moment) is the climax of the story and they win. Afterwards, they return to the ruler and…

This is the part where Desmond has to now choose.

To finally accept that he will be the next ruler or…

To say that he doesn’t want to be the next ruler and would rather travel the world, helping ponies in need (as well as a final fuck you to the ponies who had been ‘disappointed’ of him for years)

[capitalisticveins]

Solaire Clan Headcanons (Ft. Tank and Quinn)

- Lovely knows how to fence

- Vincent had a goth phase in the 6th grade, and grew out of it a month before he was turned

- Fred dyed his hair blond after Fred from Scooby Doo

- Sam owns a reclining chair and a rocking chair

- Vincent will step into the sun for 10 seconds for $50, and has

- William can crochet

- Alexis wears leather religiously, you can fight me on this

- Bright eyes has done the Tide Pod challenge

- Quinn was a marathon runner in college

- Before Tank got the keys to Sam’s house, they’d shift into a wolf and sleep on their back on his porch until Sam got home.

- Lovely thought the shades pouring into the stadium was a part of the congratulations display, and was excited to see how it’d play out.

- Bright Eyes wears glasses

- Fred watched 10 minutes of Velma and proceeded to cry his heart out

- William’s favorite part of history is the French Revolution

- Before the Sam incident, Alexis and Vincent would tie each other to a stick during the sunrise and see how long it’d take before the other whimpers out for fun

- Fred can drive joystick

- Sam had to hitchhike his way to Dahlia when he first ran away

- Tank was forced to wear a “get-along” shirt when they were a kid whenever they argued with the other pack kids. They still own it and wear it whenever they’re having a lazy day with Sam

- Lovely can and will do a full step-out on the spot if they feel like it

- Vincent can’t make toast

- Bright Eyes hates the Michael Myers movies because Fred has logically proven they would die in each one

- Alexis owned a dog once, but forgot to feed it

- Lovely has made their own grave after Inversion, and visits it every month. Vincent doesn’t know about it.

- Vincent DESPISES “My Babysitter’s a Vampire”

- Quinn and Tank used to vandalize buildings and steal from stores as dates before Tank found out what he was really doing

- They’d call each other “Bonnie and Clyde”

- Sam can’t do push-ups

- William only likes the first Hotel Transylvania movie. The rest are “disgraceful”

- Lovely doesn’t wear Vincent’s sweaters when he’s gone, so he forcibly puts the sweaters he owns on them and “pretends” they had it on the whole time

- Sam hates cats, Tank loves them

- Fred can jump fences smoothly, Bright Eyes tried to do it the way he does but their leg got caught and they face-planted on the ground, broke their glasses, and their leg.

- Sam still has Vine on his phone

- Lovely does ballet

- So does Vincent

[thousand-winters]

Okay, yeah, I'm not 100% settled on that because it just feels wrong, but I think I might quit Dadrius week for real and just. Not write the rest of the prompts.

I was thinking about how I was regretting not having written an angsty prompt for day 2 because I know people like angsty prompts more but the friends I consulted like the fluffy one more and I did want to write fluff so I was happy with that, but then the whole time I've been worried about not having enough angst in my prompts for people to want to really read my stuff and... idk, man. That's just off. I used to write things because I thought they were fun, not because I was agonizing over if people would read them or not, you know? Literally my first Dadrius fic was just me going "oh, my god, I want to write this so bad" and coincidentially it did get a lot of attention but at the time I was just SO excited about the idea and the composition the fic would have and that was literally it. I wasn't thinking about anything else, I was just having fun.

And I guess it's because in the past, when I wrote fics for this fandom, people did interact with me and I liked that, it was fun to talk to people about these things and whatever. And I don't get that anymore, which is fine, of course, I'm not entitled to anybody's time, but it's just not fun anymore. It feels like I'm just throwing empty words out there and it's so... boring. Like I don't know, maybe my writing just sucks, maybe it doesn't. My friends are very sweet and do seem to like it but you know, they do like me, so things I do they might see with sweeter eyes.

Idk, man. I just feel like I've been doing so many things for so long that haven't been for myself but for what it feels like it's expected of me and that's all. And it sucks even more because literally nobody expects this of me, I'm not fulfilling anybody's expectations, I'm just stressing myself out for nothing.

So idk. It might be good to just NOT.

[transformers-why]

hi yeah yes this blog is dead buts the only one that still has reader insert content on it and I just gotta say like

What the fuck is up the with exclusivity of reader insert shit these days? If it's about a marginally attractive man all of a sudden its f!reader afab!reader (which should NOT BE INDICATIVE OF PRONOUNS????????? YOURE NAMING THEIR SEX, AND LABELING THE PHYSICAL SEX IF IT HAS EXPLICIT CONTENT LIKE THAT IMPLIES ITS GOING TO BE GENDER NEUTRAL AND THEN ITS NOT AND ITS IMMEDIATELY TRIGGERING FOR A LOT OF TRANS PPL LIKE MYSELF??)

Like it was very very common that reader insert content baseline be gender neutral unless requested otherwise that way everyone who finds the character attractive can enjoy it?? SOOOOO fucking fed up with this smh

Fandom space is supposed to be inclusive and ngl like. when you cater specifically and only to one set of pronouns with this kind of stuff its soo deterring to so many queer people