#slide guitar basics

[slidesuccess]

Essential slide guitar techniques

I'm often asked what I consider to be the most essential techniques for learning slide guitar.

Starting to learn an instrument can feel so overwhelming. You're faced with a huge amount of information - which bits should you focus on?

With my Slide Success method, I've whittled down all the info and used my 20+ years of professional guitar-playing experience to give you the essential information you need.

My Slide Success course breaks it down into five key steps.

Fretless Foundations - getting the essentials right, including your tuning, touch, and tone.

Open Tunings Unlocked - demystifying alternate tunings and getting your fingers round them confidently

Fingerstyle Mastery - learning picking patterns such as Travis picking, and right hand string muting techniques.

A New World Of Sounds - learning the 'bells and whistles' such as vibrato and harmonics.

Slide Like A Pro - bringing all the elements together and learning some fun repertoire pieces.

I've found that this structure gives a 100% success rate with my slide students! We focus on building solid foundations for your bottleneck slide technique, and by the end of the 90 day course, you'll be flying.

I offer interested guitarists a FREE no-obligation one-to-one session with me. We can talk guitars, the gear you need to start playing bottleneck slide, where you are with your playing, and if the Five Steps to Slide Success course is a good fit for you.

Interested? Claim your free session on the link below!

I look forward to meeting you soon - happy slide playing!

Phil

[nexility-sims]

i was gonna do something & this was the rough draft, but. well. since i'm on unannounced unexplained indefinite hiatus, might as well post as is.

[camgoloud]

they should invent a my hands that are thirty percent larger and stronger

[mywritersmind]

I hope your requests are open. I had this idea of Lando dating either a singer or dancer. Mostly inspired how he said in a video that he would like to be a singer for 24h. Basically Lando surprises the reader on tour on a location of your choosing. The fans are freaking out about him being there, because they haven’t made it official to their fans and after the show they make it public. Maybe by a post where he is backstage with her being fluffy or something. It’s purely an idea so if you don’t like it then feel free to ignore it.

ROCKSTAR BOYFRIEND - LN4

listen up : kissing! cuteness! some smau! thanks for request!! i love lando x singer for some reason and even tho this is short, it’s adorbs!

word count : 1098

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I squeal as I jump into my boyfriend's arms, he spins me around while my head is buried in his neck, “I missed you!” Once my feet are back on the ground, I look at him. Taking every bit of him in, the face I have memorized. I look into my favorite eyes in the world, and smile.

“I missed you too.” He tugs at my waist a bit and kisses me softly. “I’m excited for tonight.”

“Great to see you too, Y/n.” Max fewtrells tone makes me laugh instantly. He’s staring at us like we’ve commuted some crime.

“Hi Max. I’m happy you could come!” I lean into my boyfriend, noticing the camera around his neck.

He nods, “I’m worried how much you like Lan but, you’re good so.” I laugh as he gets distracted by my manager walking by with food.

Because he’s gone, I drag Lando to my dressing room where he immediately falls onto the couch, smiling widely. “Look at you, all famous and talented.”

“Right!” I tease, “You have no idea what it’s like!” I walk closer and Lando’s hands slide up the back of my legs, staring up at me.

He stops them right before the hem of my skirt. “You look good. Not fair that I have to share you with the thousands of people out there.” He refers to my current packed venue just as the opener starts another song.

He tugs me a bit closer so I move down slowly until I'm straddling him, his hands now on my ass as he smirks at me. Lando has this look that he does, like everytime he sees me he just has to be as close as possible to me.

I rest my hands on his neck and kiss him. He mumbles, “I really missed you.” He tugs me closer and kisses me harder.

I laugh into him, “I do have to go out eventually so don’t get too excited…” He groans when I say it and moves his lips to my neck, “Lando…”

“Don’t all rockstars do this?” He eyes me as I laugh, his lips meeting mine again as there’s a knock at the door.

Lando and I end up backstage with my crew while my guitarist strums on his guitar and my manager Ally goes over tonight as if I haven’t done it a million times.

I’m sitting on Lando’s lap, a bit more PG this time, with his hand on my hip as I listen to Ally talk.

She’s pacing before she turns and sigh at us, “You two are adorable.” It catches me off guard a bit because she’s always been the one saying we shouldn’t be public because of our careers.

It makes me happy that she supports us, even if she does think he’s bad press.

She’s pulled away as I get a five minute stage call. “You’re going to be amazing and i’ll be front row!” Lando grins, pushing my hair back behind my ear.

I laugh, “Lan, you’re in a box.” I’ve sat him and Max in VIP for my friends and family with Gracie Abrams and Finneas so that should be interesting.

“I’m seriously so proud of you.” His smile is so contagious, “You’re so talented and amazing and beautiful and perfect.” I want to cry at his words. But there’s no time because my stage manager hands me my microphone and points at his wrist.

I kiss him one last time before he leaves to find Max and go to their seats. Before I can step closer to the stage though, I get stopped by Ally.

Her face is stern, “I need to talk to you after the show, about Lando.”

I frown, immediately, scared of what she has to say. But her face goes soft, “I think you’re right, you should go public. You’re sickeningly in love and if that’s what you want…” I wrap my arms around her so tightly that she has to pry me off.

“I love you!” I scream so loud that even the crowd can hear me.

“Yeah yeah, say it with a raise.” she finally cracks a smile and squeezes my arm, “Go kill it out there.”

⋆༺

I’m sweating by the time the show is over. I can still hear the crowd screaming when I walk off the stage, the same grin I started with, still plastered on my face.

I scream when I see Lando. I could see him watching me the whole performance and I’ve never been so happy.

“Hey, you did insane!” Max is first to talk as Lando hugs me again.

I let out a breathy laugh as Lando kisses my cheek, “Thank you, Max!”

“Lando is so lucky to have someone so cool because it really evens out his weirdness.” Lando eyes Max who pulls up his hands in defense and wanders away.

Lando kisses me again, “You did… I can’t even explain it! You fit so well on stage and I was singing every lyric!”

I raise a brow, “You know every lyric?”

He nods enthusiastically, “Me and everyone in my garage! I play nothing else before a race.” I shake my head, running my hands through his curls, “But you seem extra happy… is it because i’m here?”

I roll my eyes even though he’s right, “I have some news.”

His jaw drops when I tell him we’re going public. He doesn’t even consult his PR people before posting the pictures.

⋆༺

LANDONORRIS

liked by yourusername and 823,644 others…

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[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[ayatotiddies]

🥁- 🎸 - Band!Rafe Taking You For A Ride In His Truck 💋

Got this idea from me and @justafangirls-blog DMs…

Warnings - 18+ MDNI - Porn with Plot, Oral Sex (M receiving), Rafe being a little mean and condescending, Hair pulling (F receiving), Spit Kink, Established Relationship, Name Calling (Baby, Pretty girl, Good girl, Babydoll,) Slight teasing at the end - NOT PROOF READ

Moodboard - Here 🎸

A/N - woah???? I have a truck!!!!

“Rafeeee! C’mon please? Just one ride in the new truck.” You pleaded across the room.

Rafe had JUST gotten a brand new truck. It was a huge black F-350. That was all you knew, but you wanted him to drive you around in it so bad! What else would it do? Just sit there until the next time he decided to use it? Yeah no.

Instead of responding, he sent a mean glare your way.

“Not happening, you’re gonna get it dirty.”

His foul mouth answer made your jaw drop. You?- Get it dirty?!?- Was he out of his mind? While you quieted yourself and thought of a way to respond. The man went back to tuning his guitar. Playing around with the strings to see what sounds he liked and didn’t like.

“I’ll give you a blowjob?”

Shit that definitely cleared the silence. The man slowly turned his head. “That right?” His voice was gruff but god he looked delicious right now. You nodded your pretty lil’ head because- Well, you just wanted to go for a ride in the truck. A blow job was well worth it!

You were sat at his feet, snuggled up in between his legs. One of his hands was tangled in your hair with a harsh grip. While the other was softly caressing your face. His cock out and leaking tip smearing pre-cum all over your face. He thought it was just so funny and you looked so fucking good a mess for him.

“Rafeee” You whined out. All you wanted was to give him some head and he was being a dick, it wasn’t fair.

“Fine, Fine, fucking needy lil’ thing” he scoffed and lined his pretty tip up to your lips. “Open that gorgeous mouth f’me, baby.”

Safe to say Rafe was pleased when you did so. His jaw softly falling open at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around his cock. His tip hit the back of your throat causing you to gag. The man sputtered out a moan.

“Jus’ breathe through your nose f’me, okay?” Before you could pull back and question, he shoved your head fully down. Nose smushed against his pelvis. Pubic hairs tingling the lower half of your face. Your hands shot up to his thighs.

God the way his eyes rolled back was heavenly. So was the way he fucked his hips up into your mouth.

“You, fuck- You can have whatever you want after this babydoll. Just let me have this for a little long” he panted out. His balls repeatedly slapping against your chin.

Your nails dug into his jean covered thighs. It was getting rough to breathe through your nose. Especially in this heated room. Every thrust felt like he was getting deeper and deeper. It wasn’t long before his thighs tensed and a loud gasp followed by a moan echoed out in the room.

His warm load shot into your mouth. Oozing down your throat and flooding your senses. Mind fuzzy at how long you’d been at it. He was all you could feel, hear, taste, and even smell. His pretty dick sliding out of your mouth with a soft ‘pop!’

“Such a good girl, make sure to get it all.” He teased. His thumb catching the droopy substance that was running down your chin and smearing it against your lips. He hummed in approval.

The cool A/C of his truck was a nice feeling against the summer heat. Rafe looked happy to drive you around after earliers situation.

“You should do that more often.” he snickered as he gripped the steering wheel.

He wanted to be funny and joke? You could both do that.

“Yeah, uhm. No.”

His smile dropped and his head basically snapped to face you. Causing a fit of laughter and a grumpy Rafe.

@justafangirls-blog @mackenzie-maybank @starkeycore @rafescokewhore @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewstarkeys-world @rafesbabygirll @starkeygirlposts @shawtycoreee @rafesthroatbaby @bunnycrush @theeslutintheroom @spaghettimonsterjane @2tarbell @rafecameronsbunny @starkeysprincess @bunnyrafe @nemesyaaa @rafesangeldealer @starkeyvhs @rafesbee @rafesno1bae @wearemadeofstardust0 @deffnotlou @sleepiibunniiii @arinadixin @starkeyisthelastname @pillowprincess4him @drewsuncrustables

All my cutesy lil muts ❤️💋

[slidesuccess]

Can you learn slide guitar in just 90 days?

The good news is yes YOU can!

It’s true that teaching you to play slide in 90 days is a pretty bold claim, and I wouldn’t blame you for being a little skeptical.

So let me tell you how I do it and why it works.

The key to it is to see the simplicity of what we are trying to achieve. We are not looking to become a master of all aspects of slide playing in 90 days, that would be mad!

My philosophy for slide playing, and you may have heard me banging on about this, is: you can play a simple few notes, but if you play them in tune with a good tone it will move people!  

And if you can do that, you can call yourself a slide player.  

So that's what we will do first of all. I will work closely with you to make sure you become comfortable with the slide, develop your touch, and build your confidence to play in tune.

The key to all of this is to stay relaxed! If you stay relaxed this is transmitted into the playing which then puts the listener at ease and makes them want to hear what you are playing. 

Alongside that we will demystify open tunings, get your picking hand working for you, sort out the string muting techniques you need, learn how to add smooth vocal vibrato, and learn some cool pieces.  

With lifetime access to my extensive teaching platform you will then have the roadmap you need to keep developing as a slide player - having had the best possible start with my 90 day close-coaching experience. You will also have a great time and make new friends along the way!

Sound good? Then click the link below and book a call with me to have a chat about how we can get started.

[oldsoul007]

sweetest strings

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel comes back early and catches you playing guitar, which surprises him, and you two share a sweet moment together.

based of this request

a/n: veryyy domestic

joel miller masterlist

The sun dipped low behind the mountains surrounding Jackson, casting the town in hues of warm orange and deepening shadows. Life here was quiet, steady—a rhythm that Joel and I had fallen into like an old song. For once, peace felt like something tangible, not fleeting.

Ellie was Joel’s current project. He’d decided to teach her the guitar, and from the sounds that drifted through the house most evenings, she was… learning. It was sweet, really, hearing Joel’s gruff patience as he guided her through the basics. Tonight was supposed to be another one of those lessons, but Joel had gone out on patrol, promising to be back by sundown.

Ellie was off with her friends for the afternoon, so I had the house to myself. The old guitar Joel had been using sat in the corner of our bedroom, catching my eye every time I walked by. It had been years since I’d even thought about playing. I wasn’t exactly good at it back then, but the urge to strum the strings was nagging at me today.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the guitar, plucked a pick from Joel’s stash on the dresser, and perched on the edge of the bed. The weight of it in my hands was familiar and comforting. I adjusted the tuning, as best I could remember, and let my fingers find their way across the strings.

The first chords were shaky, the notes rough around the edges. I winced, but it wasn’t terrible. Muscle memory kicked in, and soon I was playing a song I hadn’t thought of in years. It was a slow, bittersweet melody, one that matched the stillness of the evening.

I started humming along, the words tumbling out softly.

“Because I’m still in love with you… I want to see you dance again…”

The room faded away as I fell into the music, lost in the quiet rhythm of the song. For a moment, it was just me, the guitar, and the ghosts of a simpler time.

“On this harvest moon…”

The last note lingered in the air, and I let out a soft sigh, the kind that comes from releasing something you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

It wasn’t until I felt the weight of someone’s gaze that I realized I wasn’t alone.

I looked up sharply, and there he was—Joel, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his patrol gear still on. His expression was soft, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were shining in that way that always made my heart flutter.

“Joel,” I breathed, my cheeks burning. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Oh, god.” I set the guitar down hastily, burying my face in my hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Why not?” He chuckled, crossing the room in a few easy steps. He sat down beside me on the bed, his hand resting on my knee. “That was beautiful, y/n.”

I peeked at him through my fingers, my embarrassment still burning hot. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his tone almost reverent, “it was more than good. Why didn’t you ever tell me you could play?”

I shrugged, glancing at the guitar. “I only played for a couple of years when I was a teenager. I wasn’t any good back then, and I figured you and Ellie didn’t need to hear me mess around.”

Joel shook his head, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

I laughed, my nerves easing under his gentle touch. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that.” His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, his gaze steady and warm. “Hearing you play… it’s somethin’ else, y/n. That song…” He trailed off, his voice catching for a moment. “You don’t even know what you just did to me.”

I smiled, my heart swelling at the look in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to play for you more often.”

Joel leaned in closer, his forehead resting against mine. “You better. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you keep this to yourself anymore.”

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft and slow, like the song I’d just played. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his shirt as the guitar sat forgotten on the bed beside us.

When we finally broke apart, his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur. “Still in love with me, huh?”

I laughed, my forehead pressing against his. “Always, Joel.”

And in that moment, with the warmth of his touch and the memory of the music lingering in the air, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect kind of love.

request by: @underneath-the-sky-again

[according2thelore]

No, because that post you reblogged, about season one Sammy basically going stop hanging out with me and joking about season 15 Sam with “where are my kisses form mommmy?”

Yeah. YEAH. That’s the main draw from ls Sam/esdean for me. Because that shit lines up PERFECCTLY. A Sam that WANTS Dean to baby him and adore him? Dean would lose his mind. He would become psychopathic. He would somehow get WORSE. Because Sammy has been resisting that shit after he turned like 13. And Dean just got him back from college (the ultimate “get away from me Dean” move). And he gets to see this affection desperate ls! Sam that’s so blatant about it and centers out Dean loud?! Omgggggggg. Omgfg. It’s like being on restrictive diet every day for 20 years, and then someone just giving you 15 chocolate cakes and telling you to go crazy. (Also thinking the LS Dean is insane and a shitty brother, because why is ls Sam starved for affection?! What are you DOING?!)

And LsSam, who probably has definitely thought about how he didn’t appreciate being deans obsession back when it was still around? Literally would roll around in the mud. The mud of deans affection. Glut himself. Obsessed. Everything he thought he’d never have again. Everything he licked himself over not appreciating. Delivered.

Of course LS! Dean has probably taught himself over the years, and all the trauma, to be really careful about showing his sam obsession TO Sam- and is bewildered and horrified and jealous, and ripping himself apart. Because you don’t really notice every personality change you go though over time, you know? And I’m not sure Dean would even realize he’s gotten less “mommy” and affectionate over the years. They still have their big emotional “I love you so much” thing at least once an apocalypse. Maybe he doesn’t see that’s it’s…different.

And ES Sam isn’t there because that’s not my thing 😂

hello!!! (the post in question!)

EXACTLY!!!!!!!!!

ES!Dean would become UNHINGED the first time he calls LS!Sam "sammy" when LS!Sam gets his shit rocked on a hunt and LS!Sam just kind of melts into the arm around his shoulder, joking lightly about how dean's going to have to carry him out of there.

dean's entire brain does a hard-reboot. blue screen and high pitched whirring and the whole thing.

he actually tries, legs shaking and stumbling underneath the weight of a full-grown thirty-something year old sam, who huffs and pained laugh and asks to be let down. ES!Dean is obsessed. because what the fuck do you MEAN LS!Sam leans into his arm and laughs gently and loves being called sammy and looks up at him with big, wet eyes and lets dean pet over his busted ribs??? WHAT THE FUCK??

ES!Dean goes full mommy-mode, lmao. they limp back to the impala, ES!Dean insisting that sammy take a few breaks, because he's looking pale. sam obeys every time, leaning a little more into dean while he gasps for breath, making little jokes about the monster or the weather or dean's fucking face--dean has no idea, his brain is on fire.

when they make it back to the car, dean insists on getting in the back with LS!Sam, and to LS!Dean's shock, LS!Sam agrees. ES!Sam awkwardly slides into the front seat while ES!Dean coos over LS!Sam in the backseat. LS!Dean almost crashes the fucking car when ES!Dean pushes LS!Sam's hair off of his forehead.

"it's gonna be okay, little brother, gonna get you patched up." ES!Dean says, just loud enough for LS!Sam to hear over the rumbling guitar of the radio. LS!Sam's entire world has shifted a little bit, because ES!Dean is so naked about it.

usually, if nothing's broken, LS!Dean will give him a clap on the shoulder and an opened beer, and chat with him to take his mind off of it. but ES!Dean is babbling about nothing in particular while his hands are all over him, his aching ribs and shoulder and hair and denim-clad knee and--LS!Sam's eyes almost roll back into his head like he just got a hit of his drug of choice--dean wipes a bit of dirt off of the side of his face with his shirtsleeve, absently, like he's not even thinking about it. he hasn't done shit like that since sam was...fuck, eight? eleven?

LS!Sam is so fucking exhausted after such a terrible week culminating in a clumsy hunt, and needs dean so acutely that he's sick with it, that he lets ES!Dean help him out of the car with a bracing hand on his stomach and an arm around his shoulder, and lead him away to LS!Sam's room for first aid. he doesn't wait for LS!Dean, because the hands on him are so warm and the familiar rumble of his voice and the lulling scent of cologne that dean stopped wearing years ago is soaking in every sinus in his skull.

ES!Dean deposits him gently on LS!Sam's bed and spends over an hour gently combing LS!Sam for cuts and scrapes and bumps. he whispers gentle and warm in his ear when he finally tests his ribs, apologizing softly when sam winces. sam is practically asleep at this point, even through the pain, so comforted and lulled and adored. he feels like he flopped back into a bed in a home he hasn't been allowed into for years. he's completely pliant in dean's arms, and dean finally pulls his boots off and leaves him mostly asleep on his bed, and switches the lights out.

their dynamic doesn't really change.

when ES!Dean makes breakfast for all of them the next morning, he slaps LS!Dean's hand with the spatula when LS!Dean reaches for the waffle already set aside on a plate. "that's sammy's." he says, sharply. he almost gets his ass beat, but when LS!Sam shuffles in, looking more well-rested than he has in years, ES!Dean hops to it and delivers him a perfectly-buttered waffle. just how he likes it.

he brings LS!Sam coffee and tea and snacks at all hours of all days. he follows LS!Sam around like a puppy, yapping excitedly about whatever's going on or whatever he's thinking about. he recaps an entire season of "la casa de los malvados," a telenovela he binged in 2003, and he's expected sam to tell him to shut the fuck up, but sam never does. he nods along and smiles and rolls his eyes at all the right points.

he and sam go about archiving one of the bunker's storage rooms, and dean gets distracted while trying to detangle some wires and just ends up staring right at LS!sam while he finishes writing an object's description in his ledger. it takes a few minutes for him to notice, but when he does, he doesn't snap or get uncomfortable like ES!Dean is expecting.

"yeah?" he asks, smiling warmly, an eyebrow raised gently. and fuck, if it doesn't sound hopeful. dean passes out and dies.

he notices a rip in LS!Sam's shirt, and when LS!Sam pouts a little because this was his favourite shirt, ES!Dean is practically tearing it off of his body to see if he can fix it.

ANDDDD lest we forget, ES!Dean has his amulet. LS!Sam can't take his eyes off of it. he's constantly finding reasons to touch it. he fixes it when the little knot of the leather cord travels down to sit against the pendant. naturally, he has to get closer, hands arms circling dean's neck like they're about to slow dance or some other ridiculous shit that makes ES!Dean flush from just the proximity of him. he pats ES!Dean on the chest for a job well done instead of the back. his eyes are constantly drawn to it like a magnet. when they fuck he insists ES!Dean be on top so he can see/feel it swing against his body WHO SAID THAT

LS!Sam goes to grab a spoonful of mac-and-cheese off the top of the pot ES!Dean is making, and ES!Dean smacks the spoon out of sam's hand, telling him he's not going to spoil his dinner, dammit. you'll eat when i tell you and not a second before. LS!Sam blinks owlishly at him before obeying and sitting down at the kitchen table, eyes pinned on ES!Dean like magnets.

ES!Dean asks LS!Sam if he blow dries his long princess hair, and LS!Sam jokes that, no, LS!Dean usually does that instead. ES!Dean falls asleep dreaming about getting to take a blow dryer to LS!Sam's hair, fingers scratching against his scalp, sam pliant and trusting underneath him as dean moves him this way and that. he becomes a little obsessed. when he's in the shower room brushing his teeth one morning, does he sniff LS!Sam's towel? mind your business.

ES!Dean is literally walking around with brass proof that he adores him. it's like all the parts of dean that LS!Sam beat himself up over taking advantage of is here and in sam's lap, begging to be acknowledged and loved and to smell sam's clothes. LS!Sam, for his part, can't get enough of ES!Dean's attention. ES!Dean's constantly checking in with him and bringing him coffee or water or chips, under the guise of doing something else. he hadn't realized how much he had missed dean being in his space. ES!Dean is trying to take care of him, as crazy as it sounds, and so LS!Sam is going to let him, dammit. he hasn't been taken care of, not in the unique way dean used to, in years. longer. a decade or more.

LS!Sam starts to seek ES!Dean out if he hasn't heard from him in a few hours. he asks ES!Dean if he wants to go do something, or asks if he wants help with dinner, or asks if he's busy. ES!Dean--more often than not--perks right up because he had tried to find something to do to keep him busy because he figured LS!Sam was tired of spending time with him.

ES!Dean thinks LS!Dean is an absolutely insane asshole. LS!Sam sighs happily when ES!Dean brings him a blanket before their weekly movie night. he tilts his face into ES!Dean's shoulder and inhales deeply when ES!Dean pulls him into a rare hug. LS!Sam has clearly been starving. and LS!Dean has clearly been starving him.

LS!Dean is slowly losing his mind.

LS!Dean makes sure to buy LS!Sam's favourite weird health chips and fancy shampoo. he brings LS!Sam an opened beer to find ES!Dean already there, yapping wildly about season one of "lost" like someone has a gun to his head. LS!Sam is leaning against him, seemingly completely unaware that ES!Dean has the edge of his flannel in his hands, worrying it between thumb and forefinger like a goddamn mother cat licking her kitten.

LS!Dean knew that ES!Dean was going kind of crazy over him--to LS!Dean's mortification. he knew how much sam despised his attention when they were that age. he would push dean's questing hands away after an injury, would need his personal space, would snap at dean if he caught him staring.

but LS!Dean finds himself staring at ES!Dean staring at LS!Sam while he reads. they're sitting right next to each other, while LS!Dean sits across the table. LS!Sam looks up and catches him staring. ES!Dean flushes madly but doesn't say anything. LS!Sam...smiles. and he doesn't stop smiling. even after ES!Dean goes back to his reading, LS!Sam sits quietly pleased and messing with the long ends of his hair at the back of his neck, like he does when he's content.

LS!Dean is kind of shell-shocked.

he didn't think LS!Sam wanted or needed that. hell, for years, sam had been telling him in explicit terms that he didn't. LS!Dean tells sam that he loves him when it really counts. like in that church.

but...even as LS!Dean thinks about it, he can't remember the last time he doted on sam like that. when he finds out that LS!Sam has been seeking ES!Dean out to spend even more time with him, he's kind of devastated. he doesn't even know how to be that version of himself anymore. it's so raw and open and vulnerable that it hurts to look at.

he wants to kill something when he sees the two of them, heads bent low and laughing to each other. he shrivels up and dies whenever he sees LS!Sam bend down so ES!Dean can laughingly wipe jam off of LS!Sam's forehead. he's going to be sick.

he awkwardly tries to do something similar one afternoon, and LS!Sam just stares at him with wide, confused eyes. when LS!Sam comes to bed one night, LS!Dean holds him so tightly his knuckles turn white. he feels like he's losing him, to a part of him he doesn't even know if he can find anymore.

you phrased it so perfectly!!! ES!Dean GLUTS himself, he can't handle it. LS!Sam rolls around in the mud of ES!Dean's affection!!!!!!!!!

thank you so much for sending in this ask, and thank you for your patience in me responding!!!! <3333 i am wishing you the most blessed of mommy dean mondays.

-lizzy

[ES/LS verse masterlist/explanation here]

[maybeemden]

I have been freaking out on Twitter about the magic 8 ball songs and the medley and tourdust in general but like you don't understand. you don't UNDERSTAND. it's not just the fact we've gotten stuff they haven't ever played. it's not just that they're bringing back deep cuts. it's not just all of that.

it's the fact we're all older. the guys are twenty years older, most people in here have been fob fans for at least a decade. it's the fact that they're not just playing them for the nostalgia factor, they're doing it because this tour is a celebration of two decades worth of this weird little emo band that changed the emo scene forever and became legends to at least two generations of emo kids so far.

it's the fact they've gained the courage to play folie a deux. the album patrick said they would likely never play live again because of the initial reception, the album that got booed whenever they played songs off it live in 2008-2009. it's the fact that headfirst slide went from a very shaky first attempt at a secret show to a setlist regular pat can now sing with a smile every night.

it's the fact that pete wentz, who thought he'd die young, who thought he'd join the 27 club, is now a father in his early 40s playing his bass and having fun with his best friends while they play songs about the time he almost ended it all. it's the fact we've seen him not only heal, but highlight the scars and the beauty in the pain. like kintsugi.

it's the fact andy and joe got exactly what they wanted. joe got a guitar album he loved, he got to focus on himself and take some time off knowing full well the band and the fans had his back, being included in everything from music videos to promotional things, and now he can enjoy his time going on the road again in a better state of mind. it's the fact andy lives for drumming, and he can do what he does best with his favorite song on the album, one that he basically begged to play the entire press run for the album.

it's the fact that the piano medley songs let patrick lay his heart out for everyone to see. it's the fact he's playing golden, what a catch, beautiful songs we haven't heard in so long. it's the fact he's gotten the courage to sing fucking soul punk in front of a crowd that ten years earlier told him they liked him better in fall out boy, to make a new spiritual successor in stardust and sing it too. it's the fact he's lost the fear to do those things, because he's realized there's nothing to fear anymore, people will sing back those songs to him with affection.

it's the fact they're also doing newer stuff. the fact they haven't forgotten about srar, ab/ap, mania. they still affirm those parts of their history, because they are still unashamedly fall out boy.

it's the fact these four guys have all gone through hell and back together, and we're all stronger on the other side. it's the fact we've all grown up together, and now we're all adults in this fucked up world trying to figure ourselves out but we know it will be okay because we made it through all that and we're still standing. it's the fact that they built it, and we came, and we stayed.

it's the fact we're still here.

[gravehags]

the undone and the divine

Pairing: Swiss x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin reader, first time, PinV sex, oral sex (f! receiving), hand action, ghouls being ghouls

Words: 2,962

Summary: You told him he could make it up to you. So he does.

a/n: sequel to my previous story heaven in hiding so go check that out before you get into this! basically i just think being a ghoul consort would cure me, personally. ghoul bicycle, if you will. ANYWAY.

~~~

You’ve never been in the ghoul den before.

Swiss has you by the hand, gently leading you down a hallway lined with doors until he finally stops at the second one from the end. It’s unlocked as he opens it and ushers you quietly inside. It’s small, but ultimately very cozy. A large bed sits in the center, dark covers hastily made. On the floor to the side stand his guitars. Stacks of books are piled throughout the space, their titles mostly obscured in the dim light coming from his bedside table. The space is so thoroughly Swiss you can’t help but smile despite the nervousness bubbling in your belly. When you finally turn to him, he looks almost as anxious as you do. His eyes dart from yours to the bed and back to you, and he twists his hands as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“I like your room,” you finally say, breaking the silence. “It suits you.”

He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck. When you take a step towards him, hand extended, he steps backwards slightly.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurts out. Your little smile fades and your stomach drops.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, kicking yourself. “I’m sorry I thought…because we…um. Nevermind. I’ll just go.”

Cheeks aflame you begin to head towards the door, achingly embarrassed at your presumption. How stupid, you thought. How naive.

Your hand is on the knob when he comes at you from behind, spinning your shoulders and pinning you to the door. The breath is knocked from your lungs as he holds you there, mirroring the position the two of you had earlier in the cloister. You’re shaking like a leaf when he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh.

“You really think I’m going to let you go now?” he finally breathes, fluttering the hairs on the side of your head. As soon as you move your gaze from his chest to his face, you exhale shakily. His pupils are blown and you know yours are too as he leans down to ghost his lips over yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Say you want me to stop and I will.”

When he pulls back finally, he cups your cheeks in his palms, tilting your face up.

“I want this,” you whisper, and his knees buckle slightly. “Swiss, I want you.”

His lips are on yours milliseconds after the words leave your mouth, cradling your head in his large palms even as he guides you away from the door. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere - on your shoulder blades, your hips, molding themselves to the curve of your ass. You trip as he continues backing you to the foot of his bed, causing the two of you to laugh into each other’s mouths. Your fist is beginning to ache from how tightly you are holding the front of his shirt, as if you are afraid he’s going to vanish into thin air. His tongue slides against yours as he frets at the hem of your shirt, desperate to reach skin. When you finally part to catch your breath, he’s looming over your half-reclined body with a knee between your legs, tail twitching behind him. Hands trembling, you reach for the buttons on his shirt and begin working them undone as he presses his lips to your forehead. When you stumble, he places his hands over yours to guide you in finishing the job, finally removing the black garment from his broad shoulders. In turn, he tugs at the edge of your shirt, pulling it gently over your head and throwing it aside. When his hands slide over your sides, finally making contact with your skin you both sigh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Swiss groans as he reaches for your bra clasp. “No fucking idea.”

“You should have told me,” you pant as he slides your bra off and gently urges you back against the covers.

“Didn’t want to scare you off.” The look in his eyes darkens as he takes in your bare breasts, and involuntarily your arms move in a desire to cover yourself up.

“Don’t,” he says softly, placing a large hand on your sternum. “Please don’t hide from me.”

When he finally shifts to cup your breast in his hand, you whine. He brushes his thumb over your hardened nipple and you feel his cock kick in his pants against your leg.

“You like this?” he says with a gentle grin, repeating the motion, to which your hips buck. His smile turns dark as he lowers his mouth to you, lips brushing the underside of your breast. You know you’re making embarrassing noises by the time his mouth latches onto your nipple and his hips rut against you as he sucks. Head falling back you slide your hand into the dark curls on his head and scratch at his scalp, making him moan against your skin. When he pulls away you whine and he laughs, his warm breath dancing over you.

“So needy, huh? I’ve barely even touched you and you want it that bad.”

“You’re one to talk,” you frown, pushing him away slightly, “what was all that in the hallway, huh?”

He hums deep in his throat, nearly a purr, before taking your nipple between his clawed thumb and forefinger and pinching. Your yelp is cut off by his laughter as he slides his hands down your sides to the waistline of your pants. He’s eye level with the button of your jeans, and your cheeks flush deeper than you had thought possible. You’re watching him like a hawk as he unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. He’s grinning when he places a sweet kiss to your belly as he scooches the garment off your hips and down your thighs. When they’re off and abandoned on the ground next to him, you once again fight the desire to hide yourself from his gaze. Swiss notices the way your hands twitch in discomfort and, his smile softening, he brings both of them to his lips. One by one he kisses the knuckles of both your hands and you watch him, half-sitting up.

“You okay?” he asks, all levity gone from his voice.

“Yeah,” your voice cracks when you say it, making you writhe with embarrassment. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head and rests his chin on your belly, gazing up at you with a look so adoring it makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re okay, babygirl,” he says, fingers stroking your sides soothingly. He presses another kiss to the soft skin of your stomach. “I got you.”

You must have hesitated with your nod, because he’s gripping your hips firmly and looking at you intently.

“Do you trust me? Tell me.”

You take a deep breath and look him squarely in the eyes. Placing your hands over his, you smile sincerely.

“I trust you, Swiss. I’m just nervous but…I trust you.”

He nods, maintaining eye contact as he slips your underwear down your hips, exposing all of you to him. If you thought you were flushed before you were positively glowing now. He lowers his lips to brush your mons and you sigh contentedly.

“Swiss,” you breathe as he presses feather-light kisses at the juncture of your legs. “I need you. Please.”

He groans from between your legs, claws gripping into the meat of your thighs and tail thrashing behind him. When he gently spreads you open and licks the length of your slit, you cry out, hips bucking. He does it again, and again, and your hand flies to the base of his horns and grips.

“Soaked for me,” he growls in between licks, “fucking drenched.”

You nod desperately, watching as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue. He’s gripping at you tight enough to draw blood but when he slides his tongue inside you and his nose bumps at your clit, you find you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s lapping at you like a man dying of thirst, licking at your wetness desperately. His lips wrap around your clit and when he ever-so-slightly sucks, your back arches off the bed. He’s holding you down with his firm grip, grunting into your cunt as he devours you.

“Swiss, please. I’m gonna–I’m so close–”

He pulls away, mouth making an obscenely wet noise, and gives you a grin full of sharp teeth.

“Not yet you’re not.”

When he leans back and straightens his body, you look up at him dazed. You’re about to protest when you see him move his hands to the button and zipper of his jeans. Sitting up slightly on your elbows, you watch as he slides his pants and underwear down his legs and disposes of them.

Oh.

You’ve forgotten that you’ve felt the length of him before, mere hours ago in the empty cloister. All of a sudden he looks huge to your eyes, much larger than he felt through the denim of his pants. He’s achingly hard, precum beading at the top of his flushed cock and dripping down onto the duvet. You are filled with the sudden, desperate need to touch him. When he slides back up your body, cock grazing the heat of you, you reach down to brush at him. As soon as the palm of your hand makes contact with his heated flesh, his hips jerk. You want so badly to make him feel good again, to hear him sound so desperate against you once more. Sensing your desire, he gently takes your hand and wraps it around him, adjusting your grip to suit him. Slowly, he guides your hand to stroke him, and you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Once he sets the pace, his hand falls away, leaving you to your task. He looks gorgeous like this, nude and hunched over you, fucking himself into your fist.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes with a broken off moan, “you’re doing so good. So good for me.”

Just as you had done back in the hallway, you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum over the reddened flesh. He grits his teeth and bucks into you with a growl, so you do it again. The way your cunt clenches around nothing at the noises he is making makes you feel lightheaded. Addicted. You don’t realize you’re doing it, but your hand is moving faster over him now. He continues to rut into your hand until he pulls away with a choked gasp.

Oh. You’ve fucked up haven’t you?

“I’m sor–”

All of a sudden his head tips back with thunderous, exaltant laughter. You’re looking up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and puzzlement, and he brings his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, passionate, sloppy. His hand is in your hair, pulling, exposing your neck to him. He’s almost vicious as you feel him nip at your skin and soothe the bites with languorous swipes of his tongue. His cock rests against your belly, hard and weeping more than ever, as he continues to mark you. When your legs begin to wrap around him, he finally pulls back, panting as he looks down at you.

“What was all that about?” you query, chest heaving.

“Have to let the others know,” he says, grin sly and toothy, “I had you first.”

The implication that the other ghouls would be having a turn with you makes your stomach swoop with anticipation but before you can even fully process the thought, Swiss is leaning back to drag his cock through your folds. Your hips twitch desperately every time the head brushes your clit, and he seems content to watch you writhe beneath him.

“Swiss,” you whine, “Please. Please.”

“Sound so good when you beg,” he smirks, bumping his cock against your clit once more. He’s riling you up on purpose, so you indulge him.

“Could have said the same thing about you earlier,” you playfully snarl. “Or did I just imagine you cumming in your jeans for me?”

He laughs loudly again, leaning back down to cage you with his arms. With impossible softness, he leans down and kisses you. It’s a sweet thing, full of longing, and your heart swells. When he rests his forehead against yours, you reach up to stroke at the stubble on his cheek.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you say simply, kissing him swiftly again.

When he reaches down between your bodies, you get that swooping sensation in your stomach once more. Gently parting you, he lines himself up and looks you in the eyes. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushes into you. You feel your body tense up and your cheeks flush, and all of a sudden he’s in your ear.

“I got you,” he whispers as he sinks further into you. You can’t lie, the stretch does pain you but it does not override your desire. When he’s fully seated inside of you, you exhale the breath you are holding, and he stills. You take several deep breaths as he waits for your command.

“Please, Swiss. Please move.”

So he does. Slowly he withdraws from you and slowly he pushes back in, until the sharp ache between your legs fades away and nothing but pleasure remains. He feels so good, makes you feel so full and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to tell him so.

“Love how you fill me up,” you breathe in his ear as he ruts a little faster, a little deeper into you. When his hands slide up your arms to hold you down to the bed, your cunt clenches and makes him moan wildly.

“So sweet for me,” he pants as he continues to fuck you. “So perfect.”

You keen at his praise and flex your hands under his grip, desperate to touch him. He, however, is still content to hold you down as he takes you with steady thrusts and watches you arch and writhe beneath him. Your moans are getting louder and more desperate with every drag of his cock and his claws bite into your wrists. His steady pace is slowly becoming more and more frantic, more and more sloppy as you continue to clench around him, making him cry out.

“Fuck, baby,” he keens, “that’s it. Don’t fucking stop.”

The spot he’s hitting as he fucks you with almost animalistic passion makes stars dance across your vision. You’re trying to focus on what he’s asked of you, but the ferocity of his thrusts is fucking all knowledge and sense out of your head. When you whine his name he slams his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing the sweet noises coming out of your mouth. He bites down on your lower lip, and your hips buck in a desperate attempt to bring him deeper within you. Relinquishing his grip on one of your wrists, he slides his hand down to where you are joined and swipes his thumb over your clit. You cry out against his mouth and he does it again, making tight circles around the swollen bud. 

“Swiss…Swiss please, I’m so close,” you moan. 

“I know you are,” he replies with a particularly deep thrust, “I can smell it,”

The knowledge that Swiss can anticipate your orgasm slides right off your brain when the moment washes over you. Your hips are bucking into his frantically as your back arches off the bed and you cry out. Swiss continues to fuck you with even more fervor, desperately chasing his end as your reach yours. You know you’re babbling incoherently at him - words of praise, words of damnation - but through the pleasure you can’t bring yourself to care. Your body feels electric, powerful as you reach your peak. The haze of hedonism slowly begins to wane, but Swiss is still pumping into you at a furious pace. When you lazily clench around him once, twice, thrice he spills inside you with a shout, hips continuing to move even after he has emptied himself. When he frees his grip on your hands, you flex your fingers before moving to cup his cheek. He pulls out of you to roll onto his back and you gasp, his seed sliding down your cunt to pool on the bed covers. A moment of silence reigns as you both catch your breath, chests heaving. Finally, you roll onto your side and scooch next to the multi-ghoul, resting your palm on his chest. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you in closer so that your exhales ghost against his neck.

“And how was your first time?” he asks, hand idly stroking your hair.

“Eh. Not bad, I guess.”

You smile at the pout and furrowed brow that graces his handsome features even as he pulls at your hair childishly.

“Take that back,” he growls, fist tightening in your locks.

“Okay, okay! You were divine, O Wondrous Ghoul. Stunning performance. Definitely leaving a good Yelp review.”

When he rolls his eyes and smiles, you grin sweetly up at him before placing a kiss on his jaw. 

“Thank you,” you say softly and more seriously.

“It was an honor,” he murmurs back. “You gave me a beautiful gift, sister.”

The two of you fall into a content silence and soon, the steady thump of his heartbeat sends you drifting off to sleep. Before your eyes shut, you smile at the thought you have.

He did make it up to you, in the end.

[nastylittleghouls]

Querencia

Relationship(s): Aether/Aeon

Rating: Explicit 

Words: about 1.6k (One day I’ll be able to write something small but today is not that day) 

Summary: It’s still difficult for him to stay quiet and unmoving, so unlike his nature. To not react without prompting to how Aether looks at him from time to time, over the rim of his glasses, appraising. Promising. Sometimes telling him to stretch out his legs or get his pillow with a gentle nudge of quintessence.

or

Aeon just wants to be Aether's good boy

Tags and warnings:  D/s dynamics, pre-negotiated scene, face fucking, Aeon being a good boy and a fiend for Aether’s monster dick, a tiny smidgen of angst- blink and you might miss it. Implied quintosis, a little bit of mean!Aether and orgasm denial. That's about it I think 

Notes: This is the result of @a-hearts-a-heavy-burden and me losing our minds about Aether pleasuring his guitar and ending with how willingly Phantom/Aeon would get on his knees for the big quint. It took a bit of a different direction than I thought but I am not mad about it. Unbeta'ed.

AO3 link for the so-inclined (Aeon is called Phantom there)

Querencia: The place where one's strength is drawn from; where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

Aeon slips into Aether’s office while he’s making his ward round. He knows the basics by now. Had watched longingly how Dewdrop knelt at Aether’s feet. And Aether, ever the observant one, had taken him under his wing with a loving but firm hand while Aeon had hung onto every word, every touch like the air he needed to breathe. 

Take off your clothes. Fold them neatly and put them on the chair. On your knees. Head bowed. Hands on thighs, unless other instructions are given.  Be seen but not be heard. 

He had felt like he had found another purpose in Aether’s pride. 

It’s still difficult for him to stay quiet and unmoving so unlike his nature. To not react without prompting to how Aether looks at him from time to time over the rim of his glasses, appraising. Promising. Sometimes telling him to stretch out his legs or get his pillow with a gentle nudge of quintessence. 

The way people come and go. Either treating him like he isn't right there, naked, rock hard, and leaking a puddle on the floor, only stealing looks at him. Or partaking if Aether allows it. 

Like Swiss dropping by to discuss plans with Aether, his hands casually wandering over Aeon’s upper body with teasing caresses over his neck and tweaking his nipples as he talks. Or Dew nudging the tip of his boot under his balls, making Aeon’s sensitive cock slide over the leather just so as he leans over the desk to pull Aether into a heated kiss. Tempting him to seek friction at the display in front of him and testing his obedience. No doubt hoping he’ll fail as Dew enjoys seeing him punished as much as he enjoys being part of the aftercare. 

He hopes he’ll be spared by visitors today. He selfishly wants Aether for himself, wants to be good only for him. 

The door opens and Aether finally returns. If he‘s surprised to find Aeon here again so soon he doesn‘t let it show. The spade of his tail drags fleetingly over Aeon's spine as he passes to get to his desk, making him arch up, and ends with a playful slap on his ass. That’s his greeting, his acceptance of Aeon‘s servitude. 

Aeon breathes the air with Aether’s renewed scent in deeply, then curls his tail around himself and waits. Let’s himself thrive in the simple but meaningful act of kneeling in Aether‘s presence, for Aether, ready to dedicate his body to him to ease his stress level and make the crease between his eyebrows vanish. The thought makes him glance at Aether‘s cock, laying against his thigh under the loose scrubs, moving enticingly when he shifts his leg. The things he would give to have that long thickness filling him already.  Stretching him impossibly wide, the ache, the taste… 

They both need each other, Aeon‘s sure of it. 

When Aether finally beckons him over, his body excitedly rises upwards, one alredy foot on the floor, about to push him upwards and he instantly knows he fucked up. He bites back a frustrated whine and lowers himself back down. Apologizing and hoping Aether won’t punish him for it. 

Aether just sighs with a hint of disappointment.

“Go on. Try again”.

Relieved that Aether feels gracious today, his voice having that certain cloying tone, Aeon rises again, properly only onto his stiff knees this time, and crawls over to Aether. His cock bobs in front of him, dripping all over the floor as he moves, giving Aether a good view of him. He wants to preen under his gaze.   

Aether’s large hands greet him when he settles again, stroking Aeon’s beaming face as he smiles down at him. The smaller ghoul nuzzles into the touch, kisses Aether’s rings reverently. Tries to wriggle his tongue under them to taste his sweat, and licks at the pad of his fingers where the ink has stained them. His eyes never leave Aether’s face, looking at him like he’s one of the seven princes of hell himself. 

„Such a sweet boy. Kneeling so prettily for me. You wanna help me relax, don‘t you? ” 

Aeon shivers at the praise before he nods fervently, eyes wide and glassy, whispering a “yes, sir. Please” and letting his mouth drop open and his tongue roll out in invitation, eager to be of use. Aether strokes his cock leisurely, pleased with the way Aeon offers himself and follows his every movement. Every word. Attention fully on him. Like it should be.

“Hands behind your back, grip your wrists. If you let go, I’ll stop. Understand?” 

Aeon nods again, shifting to do as he is told. Curling his fingers around his wrists as tight as he’d want his cuffs to be, digging into the finger-shaped bruises already on his skin. The feeling forces him to take a deep breath. 

It's a slow and intentional thing when Aether squeezes his cock from root to tip, forcing pre to pool in the slit. He shifts forward and drags the head of his cock over the smaller Quint's tongue with a small moan, Aeon's eyes rolling into the back of his head when the taste hits, a reedy whimper escaping his throat. A high-strung please is pressed into Aether’s mind along with it. 

Fingers fisted in Aeon's hair, Aether uses his grip to feed the little ghoul his cock, slides in until there’s no more for Aeon to take and then just holds him there.  Lets the tip rest at the back of his throat, groaning approvingly when he feels Aeon swallow around him, body going slack at the weight, at the way he can feel every single bar of his Jacobs ladder sitting on his tongue, how it fills his whole mouth and stretches his lips wide. His mind goes pleasantly hazy, everything narrowing down to Aether and pleasing him. Helping him destress. Being useful. Nothing else. 

Aether pulls him off, only to instantly push him back down and press in deep again, not letting him draw a full breath. Saliva drips messily over Aeon's chin and onto his chest as Aether uses him, fucks Aeon’s mouth in deep strokes, his sounds of pleasure washing over Aeon like warm summer rain. The small Quint’s hungry little whines and moans fill the room, slender hips hump the empty air in a desperate search of friction he’s not allowed. Drawing quick little breaths whenever Aether pulls his cock out just enough that air can flow and flushing hotly at the loud wet squelching noises he’s sure everyone can hear every time Aether pushes back in.   

„Lucifer, your pretty mouth. Made to be ruined”

The praise has Aeon tonguing at the metal adorning Aether’s cock, doing his best with the little room he has. He just wants to give Aether more and show how grateful he is.  

“That’s good. Really fucking good. Such a sweet boy for me,” Aether breathes, head tipping back. His fingers tighten in Aeon’s hair, his thrusts get a little sloppier, just that little harder. Aeon keens, long and high, too far gone to notice that Dew’s name falls from Aether’s lips in the throes of pleasure, in between his praises.  It almost overwhelms him, his ruddy cock kicking hard between his legs. His tail curls around Aether‘s ankle, needing something to ground himself before he loses it.

Then Aether slides in deep again and comes, momentarily depriving him of the taste where he wants it the most, staying there until his cock’s done twitching.

It's wonderful.

Aether drags his cock out oh so slowly and leans back in his chair, breathing labored. He graciously lets Aeon follow and keep mouthing at him, catching what he couldn’t swallow with his tongue, watching the blissful face of the little ghoul as he enjoys his extra treat. He ponders how good Aeon’s mouth would feel struggling on his knot and his cock twitches, causing a delighted noise from the ghoul beneath him. 

Maybe later today. 

His fingers in Aeon’s hair loosen and his hand just rests affectionately at the back of his head, twirling the short strands around his fingers until he starts to soften and overstimulation sets in.

“That’s enough, little star”.

Aeon takes the cue and when Aether’s all clean and tucked back into his pants, Aeon rests his head on his thigh, gazing adoringly up at him with a hoarse sounding purr, still happily working his mouth around the ache in his jaw, the cum still swirling around in his mouth. His face is a mess of fluids, lips swollen and Aether makes a mental note to snap a photo for his collection

„Please, sir. Would you…“ Aeon sounds wrecked, his voice cracking then giving out. He swallows. 

“Hmm?” A Cheshire cat-like grin appears on Aether's face as he tips Aeon’s face up and offers his water bottle to him. Encouraging him to take a sip.  He knows exactly what’s coming. Or rather, what isn’t. 

“M..may I come, sir?” 

Aether makes a considering sound, reaches down to drag a fingertip over the length of Aeon's sensitive cock, then sucks it into his mouth. Aeon’s eyes widen, and a wounded sound that shows how close he is to coming leaves him, hips jerking forward in minuscule motions even after Aether’s touch is gone. He pants as his cock keeps throbbing and pre-cum drips in rivulets down the sides. 

“I think I’ll keep you like this for a while longer,” Aether says, then folds his hands behind his head and smirks. 

“Now lick your mess off of the floor.”

[lonelyasawhisper]

Queen: A Night At The Garden

Kris Nicholson, Creem, 1st May 1977

Queen's music is like strong mouthwash. It takes my breath away but that initial rush is as temporary as it is abrupt. This probably has something to do with the discrepancy between what Queen is and what Queen would like to be. Queen IS a good studio band-cum-variety show with a flair for novelty, a patent on mock opera and Rock of Gibraltar guitar harmonies. What they would like to be is a good studio band and a great live act. Unfortunately they've mastered a studio perfection that does not lend itself to accurate live interpretation. Whether or not they choose to approach the two mediums separately, the fact remains: kids are amazed at Queen records and they expect to be doubly amazed by their concerts.

If Queen—without the assistance of tapes—could reproduce their studio sound live, they'd certainly be one of the most impressive bands on the rock scene. But they can't and they aren't and it's the vocals that cause most of the problem. They'd need at least five Freddie Mercurys [Aaargh!—Ed.] to do it right. (Imagine Mercury quints; five golden-throated, leotarded, stiffly posed fools.) If only Freddie Mercury could sing two notes at a time!

There is a gadget known as a harmonizer that provides a delayed echo and allows Freddie to harmonize with himself, but this effect has its limitations and is reserved for special occasions like "Killer Queen" and Freddie's spotlight solo in "White Man."

Lacking a consistently believable production of their music, the least Queen could do is compensate for aural imperfections with visual delights. Try as they might, their use of flash pots and strobe lights is old hat and the five basic postures in Freddie's crude ballet are amateur still life, pale in comparison to the volume and the ideas of the band's music.

Let us proceed to the actual scene of a Queen concert and see if we can discover just what keeps this band alive.

It is February 5th at Madison Square Garden. I see a sign bobbing and weaving through the upper aisles of the arena. At first it looks like it's moving of its own free will and then two heads become visible at either end of the banner. This is a familiar one. In three-foot high letters it boasts, "Queen is King." Behind and way above me, up in those seats in the clouds, (that us rock writers never get stuck in) there are two more signs held by fans. They read: "Queen A Night At The Garden" and "Queen Takes My Breath Away."

I wonder how many of these kids have seen Queen before. Will they be disappointed? Darkness sets in. The PA system blasts solo piano recital music that eventually fades into a tape of one of those majestic guitar intros Brian May likes to embroider around the beginning of his songs. The first chords of "Tie Your Mother Down," hit like thunder, maybe even induce butterflies in the stomach, temporarily.

The image of Freddie Mercury strikes. Decked in some kind of baggy white karate jump suit the singer looks sexier than he ever did in those ridiculous striped suspender shorts. For a moment Freddie has me believing that he's cut his overbearing physical exposure from the act. But by the third song he's stripped down to a second skin of white, commonly known as leotards. In Freddie's case they're pain in the ass leotards. Every five minutes he becomes distracted as a leotard strap shimmies down his shoulder. He searches for a moment when he can inconspicuously slide it back up before the whole damn thing falls off. Unfortunately Freddie is not cool about it. By the end of the set I'm almost more intent on calculating the next time a strap will drop and how he'll get it back up, than I am on hearing the music.

Freddie is a strange cookie on stage. He waves his magic wand (actually it's a mike stand but you can use your imagination) and the flashpots explode. No big deal. Personally I think the Wizard of Oz had better flashpots and that movie was filmed decades ago. Freddie addresses the audience, "Listen my darlings, let me do the talking for a change." Yecch! Too coy. I don't believe him.

"Somebody To Love" comes early in the set. This is what is called strategy. It comes early in the set because it's impossible to do justice to in concert. If everything else goes right, by the end of the show the kids will have forgotten how punchless the live version is in comparison to the lush production that stole thousands of AM hearts.

Deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent.

Besides Freddie, the only really visible member of Queen is Brian May. May is the exact opposite of Mercury— a real Yin-Yang combination. In the words of Chuan Tzu, "The perfect negative principle is majestically passive (May). The perfect positive (Mercury) is powerfully active...the interaction of the two results is that harmony by which all things are produced." Somehow it DOES work.

Wanna puck? Monreal Mercurys owner displays the franchise's new uniform. (Note the hand-tailored sleeves and custom-fitted mouthpiece).

May appears silent and serious. He plays guitar as if he were studying constellations. There is nothing silly about him. Even the starch in his Elizabethan white shirt fits. He looks elegant, contemplative, (a misplaced 18th century poet?) and yet he plays with all the erotic energy and guts of the heaviest and dirtiest of rock 'n' rollers. You could say he doesn't look like he sounds. But this inconsistency serves to make his character all the more enchanting.

During "Brighton Rock" Brian takes a long solo. With the use of two echoplex systems he manages to produce the sound of three guitars. It's a well-crafted solo with lots of showmanship and lots of clean, thoughtfully executed riffs. He hardly moves while he's playing. All the energy is flowing from head to fingers. It's one of the few moments in Queen's set where nothing threatens to cancel out the emotion of his playing. Looking back on this a moment later, it's easy to understand what Brian has in mind when he says, "I want to be good in the sense of being more expressive."

Queen dares to attempt May's Mccartneyish " '39." It doesn't fare too well. Freddie sings it. Freddie sings all the songs. Funny, on the record Brian sings " '39." Maybe he feels that singing would be too much of a diversion while he's playing guitar.

In introducing "You Take My Breath Away," Freddie announces, "Maybe next time we'll come back with an orchestra." (While he's at it I hope he remembers to bring a choir, too.) Freddie adds, "You are what we call our sophisticated rock audience." Is he laughing because he knows it's a joke or is he uneasy because that's what he'd like to believe?

Imagine (Freddie) Mercury quints; five golden-throated leotarded, stiffly-posed fools.

Meanwhile the set has been embellished with intermittent gimmicks; a roadie hands a triangle to bassist John Deacon to hit one solitary note. What drama! Brian May plays a ukelele for five seconds during the band's instrumental version of "Bring Back Leroy Brown," etc. etc.

Freddie's vocal exhibition in "White Man" is impressive. He manages to sound like a voice and an instrument at the same time. It offers substantial evidence that deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent. Too bad he has to mask it in such demeaning external distractions as his unsteady Ian Anderson pose and his off-time dances to the music.

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is the evening's anti-climax. When the song reaches the really ornate vocal rounds Freddie disappears from the stage and all twenty thousand of us are left sitting in the dark. It's like faking an orgasm (need I say that the real thing is so much better?). Of course this maneuver is done so that Freddie can change his costume but it doesn't sit too well with me, not to mention the fifteen-year-olds behind me who think they're being ripped off. After all, they can hear the record at home. They want to see Queen do the humanly impossible, and when they're slipped a fast one they know it. "This is unforgivable," says one kid. "Yeah, they're gonna haveta do somethin' big to make up for that," his friend replies. Hear that, boys? You can't fool Mother Nature.

Freddie returns in black tights. He looks much better in black, especially now that he's got one of those real slick short hairstyles. White is too feminine. Again, strategy saves the day. The kids have been screaming for "Stone Cold Crazy" all night and now, when they're feeling cheated, "Stone Cold Crazy" will pacify them.

"Stone Cold Crazy" is perhaps one of the most breathless hard rockers that Queen does (on record) but somehow it loses its bite when a series of strobe lights begin to flash to the beat and eventually wind up totally off-beat, turning the frenzied effect into gaudy confusion.

Freddie dedicates "Keep Yourself Alive" to the audience. "Liar" is followed by "In The Lap Of The Gods." There are two encores, so l'm told. I didn't stay for them. I came to see if Brian May still knew what he was doing—I didn't need any more Mercury shenanigans.

We turn now to the scene of the post-Queen party. It's held at Oh Ho So in So Ho and it's so-so. Freddie is reputed to have a fascination for the Oriental and that's as good a reason as any to jam 500 press people into a 250 capacity restaurant. The food in this joint is really good, I come here all the time. But food is not what I'm interested in. Standing well over six-feet-tall, Brian May is easy enough to spot but he's busy holding court. I can barely justify barging in on the ladies in waiting, the men in waiting, the fans in waiting...later.

"Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio."

In the meantime my friend Liz and I have decided that we're going to corner Freddie and ask him what brand nail polish he wears. She sees someone she knows who knows who we want to meet (Freddie) and she manages to get introduced while I play voyeur. Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and women... Freddie's nails aren't black or white. They're just old plain old fingernails. But, we do manage to find out that Freddie has been asked to pose with Mr. Pumping Iron himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whether or not the event will take place is still a mystery. Freddie wasn't giving any clues.

Queen poses at left, shortly after Brian May's guitar mysteriously exploded sending slivers of wood and steel into the eyeballs of the rest of the group, causing temporary blindness. The matter is under investigation by Scotland Yard. Below, Roger: "Aye likes to put me boogies in me pant cuff 'cause it keeps 'em clean...Wot about it?"

Freddy: "Aye think ee wants one on 'is lens, eh?"

After at least an hour of anxious waiting for parking space beside Brian I finally score. Yes, he remembers doing the interview last year, but he says I look different. Yes, it must be the glasses. I don't have them on tonight. I'm blind as a bat but you know what they say about girls who wear glasses.

Pulling no punches; I explain to Brian that I'm doing a Queen story for America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine. I am totally understanding as he apologizes, "We haven't been doing interviews 'cause we're so busy. We're playing all big concert halls and we're in a different city every night. We travel about five hours every day. It's just too hectic." If he wasn't such a nice guy I'd be saying, bullshit, everyone else does it, but he is SUCH a nice guy and I sympathize with every word he says. Two points for the power of smooth talking.

I proceed to find out that the next album will NOT be named after a Marx Brothers movie, that Groucho owns an official Queen II jacket and that Queen will be meeting him in L.A. Rock on Groucho!

On the subject of the band's incessant use of gimmickry, Brian comments, "A Day At the Races can be seen as an extension of A Night At the Opera". Though last year Brian's favorite album was Queen II, this year he professes to like A Day At The Races despite its similarities to Opera. He had once expressed discontent with Opera due to the switch of emphasis from guitar riff-based rockers to experiments with instruments like the Toy Koto, the genuine aloha ukelele and "Good Company's" guitar jazz band, not to mention Freddie's obsession for music in the movie musical genre.

A Day At The Races is the first self-produced Queen album. Previous albums had been stamped with both the band's name and that of Roy Thomas Baker—the man who served as scapegoat for numerous accusations regarding overproduction. A Day At The Races bears a pattern of excess remarkably similar to that of A Night At the Opera. Of producer Baker, Brian said: "We grew together and now we've got our own things to do. We always had a lot to say about the production anyway," he added, hinting at the possibility that Queen's vices have long since been self-inflicted.

Considering the vast amount of time and money spent on studio technique it is not surprising to discover that even before May had heard the influential playing of guitarists like Page and Hendrix, he was fascinated by Phil Spector's productions. "They were very emotional and very slushy," he explains with a gleam in his eye. Strange combination this romanticism, this background in astronomy, this technician who built his own guitar from the wood of an antique fireplace, this man whose songs are to him "very personal." Strange that all these experiences convene in one brain and come out with a split vote, half in favor of the schmaltzy sentimentality of numbers like the Beatle-ish "Long Away," the other half thrashing out in malevolent waves of heavy sound and male chauvinism, witness "Tie Your Mother Down."

Getting back to the matter of production. Brian recognizes the discrepancy between the live and studio version of a song like "Somebody To Love." It doesn't seem to bother him. Being dead set against the possibility of a live album, why should he worry as long as he's so busy filling big arenas that he doesn't have time to do interviews. Still, his heart is into making good studio recordings. "If we did a live album, it would have to be really good, but I can't imagine it. I think live albums are a cop out." He pauses and smiles, "Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio." This was all said with a degree of sincerity that I'd like to believe but a conflicting report challenges his position. Reliable sources seem to believe that Queen is considering the possibility of recording live in Japan this summer with the able assistance of none other than Roy Thomas Baker.

So Queen and success have met. So far the two are getting along. A year ago Brian May proudly announced that the only tape the band used was "God Save The Queen" at the beginning and ending of concerts. "We don't like the idea of using tapes as backing tracks," he explained. Considering the role tapes play in their current show, suffice to say times have changed.

A year ago Brian believed there were things Queen could do in a small theatre that they could never do in Madison Square Garden. "When you start playing those places you have to change your whole act. A group can become like a picture in a frame. Communication in arenas is much more difficult and needs to be approached carefully." Now that Queen is playing only big arenas Brian expresses a feeling of comfort within the new atmosphere, explaining that the band feels geared towards it now. Queen certainly manages to fill large halls with sound but whether they know it or not, they've not mastered a way of filling their new frame with a coinciding picture.

It's deadline day and devoted soul that I am I've taken it upon myself to listen to all the Queen albums in order. The first two are a breeze, Queen bouncing from melodic early Yes style to heavy Led Zep riffing and then on to the sledgehammer stance of Deep Purple at their most menacing.

By Sheer Heart Attack the seeds of gimmickry are planted and they begin to grow like a small malignant cancer. Freddie Mercury has stopped singing about mercury and biblical references are less frequent. The band's image becomes less majestic, more decadent, killer Queen, and then a complete turnaround with A Night At The Opera wherein the boys abandon guts for cutesy cleverness. It is by this album that Queen have become definitely Queen. Maybe the novelty twist is their only surefire approach to originality: heavy metal novelty? A Day At the Races, as accounted for earlier, is more of the same as Opera.

I can still hear Brian talking about Jimi Hendrix with a sense of awe: "He was the man." At the same time the image of Freddie comes into view. He is posing for pictures. He keeps an eye on his reflection in the mirror. He primps his jet black hair and snickers in a barely audible but intentional tone, "Got to keep up the image." It's hard to imagine a more diverse marriage of ideas. It's transient, it's experimental and it's confusing as hell.

Ever since their 1973 debut I've followed Queen. I've reviewed every album with enthusiasm and then somehow forgotten them until the next release reminded me that I like the last one. I get all excited when a Queen record comes out, but it doesn't last. What's the answer? Staying power? Preservatives? It's driving me stone cold crazy.

Retrieved from The Creem Archive

[menlove]

any introductory beatles (just mclennon tbh) fics? 🤲

LORD OKAYYYYY i'll try not to go too crazy and just stick to my alltime faves.....

first of all anything @forthlin (milaway on ao3) has written literally ever. i am going to eat them one day. they are the yin to my yang and also the best writer this fandom has ever seeeeen. um. anyway! like i said, all their fics. but i'd Particularly rec your lucky break which is an au where john is a 30 something rockstar and paul is an up and coming musician in the 70s. and well! what can i say about this fic except it's sooo in character, hot, and also the reason i started talking to the best person on this earth so whatever

also completelyyyyy selfish but hey i only wrote half so i'm counting it but we also have an ongoing series: i want you, i need you, i love you where they're writing john's povs and i'm writing paul's! it's just basically our take on their timeline & relationship, but the third installment's going to be a fix-it

now onto me not being gay or selfish here's some of my favorites that i think are Must Reads.

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl

explicit. 49k. John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961. rec notes: okay look. this one is just a classic. it's great. esp love it bc it's right up my alley with its "paul isn't an oblivious moron" takes. also.... hot.

I Still Miss Someone/I Know That I Miss You but I Don't Know Where I Stand

explicit. 64k. It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events. rec notes: aaaaugh this one haunts me there's one scene i think of literally every time "i still miss someone" by johnny cash comes on, which is one of my fave songs. it's not a fix-it, but it's so so so good for the Vibes of their 70s relationship :(

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

explicit. 22k. He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you. rec notes: this one is just... soft. and so good for a snapshot of the hamburg vibe.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc)

mature. 27k. John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul. Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be rec notes: literally my favorite mclennon fic everrrrrr ever ever. other than your lucky break. this is everything. this is it. like it nails their dynamic even though it's a magical au. it explores their relationship sooooo fucking well. i think about it like weekly.

John My Beloved

explicit. 33k. They've always loved each other, in their own way… rec notes: OTHER FAVORITE EVER it broke my heart it changed my fucking lifeeeee it changed my world. major character death warning but fuck man. i think about this literally constantly. this fic haunts me. i think it changed me. i had to stare at a wall for like 30 minutes after finishing it. i got choked up.

two of us (burning matches)

explicit. 6k. It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together. rec notes: this one is just cuuuute and perfect for the Early Days Vibes.

Grow Old With Me

explicit. 8k. fix-it. Paul breaks his arm, and John panics. rec notes: SOOOO FUCKING SWEET. this is what they deserved and i like to live here in my mind when the reality of what actually happened gets to be too much.

1967

mature. 11k. canon-divergent au. In 1961, John Lennon and Paul McCartney left abruptly on a trip to Spain, via France. In 1967, they finally come home to face the consequences. rec notes: the style of this one is INSANE. it's so unique and i love it sososososo much. also the plot? is super unique???? basically it's an au where they never came home from paris and it's.... so fucking good. i love the way it looks at their dynamic like fuck. it's just perfect.

Way Up Top

explicit. 12k. Falling out of the sky, together. | Snapshots of the Beatles in Greece, July 1967 rec notes: LOVE this one for its portrayal of all non-mclennon parties. it fleshes everyone out, especially jane and cyn, in ways a lot of fics just skip. just sooo well written and melancholic in a great way i think.

When You Are Young They Assume You Know Nothing

mature. 26k. But Paul knows John. There’s something about Paris, though... rec notes: THE paris fic to me. this is soooo good and so fucking soft and it just. augh. it killed me.

a brief interruption, a slight malfunction

explicit. 12k. During the rooftop concert, John remembers why he used to find Paul so irresistible after a show. One more time won't hurt, right? rec notes: perfect breakup era fic. my rec notes on ao3 were "this was devastating :)" so. god. this fucked me up.

aaand honorary mentions to the two non-mclennon fics i've read but !

Knocking at Your Door

george/paul. explicit. 6k. It's easy enough, this time, to lean in and touch their lips together. A firm press of his mouth to Paul's; first at the corner, then right on the centre of his yielding, expressive lower lip. Paul and George: a few meetings over thirty-six years. rec notes: the opening sentence to this made me sick to my stomach and then the rest of the fic destroyed me permanently

Where The Sailors Go

ringo/paul. explicit. 5k. A drunken German mistakes Paul, alone in Hamburg's red light district, for a rentboy. Ringo, the Hurricanes' terrifyingly adult drummer, intervenes. Things happen, but Paul can't stop thinking about John. rec notes: PRINGOOOOO. with background mclennon. this was so real to me. also in the same universe as this fic is (It's Just) Another Day which is a transfem paul mclennon fic that rooocked my world. it's still a wip but holy fuck. made me rearrange the way i see paul tbh.

[facefullofsadness]

THAT SAKURA FIC…. was so good omfg.. do you by chance have any sub ish/switch yunjin thoughts bouncing around because i will die on the switch!yunjin hill as a soft!dom/switch reader….

tysm for liking the kkura fic!!! and YES OMG, love to headcanon basically every idol as a switch bc I am one LMAO

content - me rambling ab how obsessed I am w yunjin, ig smut? I mean I'm just sharing my thoughts lol

wc - 685

yunjin is such an auditory person.

I feel like regardless of taking on a dom/sub role, she lovesssss sound. so like I just imagine if she's topping, she'll moan with you as she slides her slick pussy against yours.

she's all, "fuck y/n, your pussy feels so good. can you feel it too? can you feel how fucking wet I am for you? you're driving me insane." GRRR SHE'S SO HOT !!

like even if she's in a dom situation, she'll BEG YOU to let her fuck you. and when you do, she'll be all whiney and desperate in your ear, saying how badly she missed how warm and dripping your hole is around her fingers. giving service top energy I suppose.

"god how I missed this pussy. you just take my fingers so well and feel fucking incredible around me. more baby? do you need more? don't hold back on me now."

IMAGINE IMAGINE she wakes you up at night, deep voice all low and croaky, and she rasps out so sexily in your ear, "babe, please please let me eat you out. you don't even have to stay awake, I just need to taste you." LIKE??!??!

and all of that ^^ already rides the fine line of her being a switch on her (kinda) dom side. just imagine her subby.

bc on the flip side, instead of fucking your pussy with her own, her holding you by your thighs and grinding, you're instead guiding her hips while she's on top of you.

"that's it baby, you can do it. grind against me just like that," you say, kissing her neck as she's clutching onto your shoulders and eyes squinted shut.

"ah y/n! please please, fuck it feels so good, fuck me harder please baby..." yunjin moans out.

you flip her onto her back where ur now on top of her, your guys' legs intertwined, and you hug her leg that's up in the air, fucking your cunt hard against her clit.

she pathetically moans your name and throws her head back, her hands clawing at the sheets and it worries you that she might actually rip them. and she's sooo vocal.

it gets you off to hear how good you fuck her and it only increases the sheer amount of arousal coursing through your body. she loves it just as much. in both dom and sub situations, yunjin gets hornier at your moans, her own moans, the wet squelching of fingers fucking each other's holes, the slurping lewd loudness of giving head, the slippery mess of grinding pussies with one another. she's so obsessed with it (she is a producer and composer after all yk yk).

also in my mind, although I don't think she's sensitive, as opposed to someone like chaewon or winter who in my mind, you trail your fingertips against their abdomen and they shiver. yunjin's not like that, but I do see her feeling ignited when you're direct.

say you come up behind her while she's playing guitar sitting down, wrapping ur arms around her waist and kissing her neck while you moan with every mark. oh, the way she'd throw her head back and give you more space, her breathing immediately getting heavier.

or even imagine sitting on her lap while ur at the lsfm dorm for a movie night (how many fucking "movie night at their dorm" fanfics have you read? add +1 to ur list!), or vice versa, and leaning in to her ear and let out an orgasmic moan. just for fun! just for shits and giggles!

the way her body would tense up and thighs would clench. she'd look at you in the eyes and you would chuckle at how much lust immediately filled her's.

anyway to conclude, both of you being switches would curate a dynamic where you could both play either role you wanted when either of you wanted it. if one day u wanted to bottom, she'd top you. if one day she wanted to bottom, you'd top her. yunjin just loves fucking you and loves being fucked by you.

a/n - I feel like my headcanon that she loves sound during sex was purely self indulgent and not a part of what anon was asking but HEY! this is my blog shhhh, let me have my fun! anon, idek if this is what you wanted, I feel like this isn't even that LMAO, she's barely even a sub in this DDD: