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delopsia · 4 months

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Streetlight Glow | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 10,00 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, shameless use of the one-bed trope, best friends to lovers, one(1) mention of a gun. 80% smut, 20% dumb fluff. Multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, questionable use of an old ring, road trips, taking Bob's virginity 🌷 Brief Summary: In which you go against everything best friends should be doing and become something more.

You've heard this radio song one too many times.

It's so overplayed that your belly tightens with a sickly sourness the second your ears catch wind of that dreadful tune. Top one hundred radio stations are cute until you're trapped in Bob's itty bitty car, forced to listen to the same set of songs. Over. And over. And over. Like some sort of modern torture, vying to drive you mad before you reach your destination.

And yet, Bob's fingers drum against the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Completely and utterly content with this strange new hell you've been shoved into. Even Rhett's humming along to it. Had never heard of this song before he climbed into the car, but has memorized it over the course of the past four hundred and something miles.

You couldn't ask to change the station if you wanted to; Bob reached over and played with the dial a few minutes ago, ciphering through endless static until he landed back on this god-forsaken station once again—the perks of being out in the middle of nowhere.

If Rhett doesn't land top ten in this rodeo, a raging bull isn't going to be his only problem.

It's the distant clicking of a turn signal that garners your attention. Hadn't realized you were looking down at the promise ring in your palm until after you drew your attention back to the road.

"Please tell me this isn't where we're staying," you mutter, leaning back into your seat as if you can possibly cram yourself into it and disappear entirely.

An ancient husk of a hotel, with its flickering 'open' sign plastered haphazardly in the window. Two lamp posts hang in the lot, and yet, their light has done nothing to fight off the velvety darkness that has long since fallen. It's only because of the headlights that you can see the grass breaking through the cracks of the concrete, so worn and weathered, that the painted parking lines no longer remain.

It's enough to send you high-tailing out of town, and yet, Bob's putting the car in park, "Rhett—"

"I know," Rhett's fingertip taps against something metal. "I know."

You don't need to turn around to know that it's his gun. A necessary evil that begrudgingly made its way into the trip itinerary after learning of where this rodeo is located. Though unarmed himself, Bob's head nods, and the door squeaks open without another word. You'd pitch a fit about this, but your choices are either to stop here or take over the driver's seat and hope you can stay awake long enough to find a better resting place.

On their own, your eyes drift back down to the ring in your palm. Dainty. A promise of a life together that your ex couldn't keep his word on. Leaving you with this dumb hunk of metal. Too cheap to pawn and not worth the years it's spent sitting in this old jacket pocket, waiting on the day you would wear it again.

"Hey, Rhett?" Your voice feels foreign in your own mouth. Too loud in this quiet little car.

In the rearview mirror, you can see his head lift. "Hm?"

"Can you make this disappear?" Open palm sliding to rest on the console, that damned ring sitting in the middle of it. Far too innocent for the memories it carries. "Please?"

Rough fingertips brush against your skin as he takes it from you, and suddenly, the ring seems to have shrunken by four sizes. Entirely too tiny in his oversized hand. A part of you reckons he could snap it in two.

"This is from that one guy, ain't it?" There's a bitterness to his tone that you very nearly forgot the sound of. The kind that only bubbles out of him when that old fling gets brought up as if he had his own heart broken in the process. You don't have a response, mouth devoid of another word, but he doesn't seem to need it. "I'll find a place for it."

The reception door swings open, Bob's hand now occupied by a thin, plastic keycard. A reluctantly welcomed sight that you're unsure what to make of. A bed to stretch out and rest in, but at what cost? A lumpy mattress? Bad neighbors? A busted car window come morning?

Roaches?

Ugh.

The car door is squeaking back open, and much to your dismay; Bob is already dishing out the spare keys, "second floor, room two o' one. It's the only room they've got."

Whoever decided that the stairwell should be outside rather than inside should be fired immediately. Metal creaks beneath your slip-on shoes, slippery, threatening to send you tumbling to the bottom at any given moment. You only carry one bag, some tiny thing you threw overnight essentials into, things that you wouldn't miss if you had to get rid of them. Yet, you've already caught yourself feeling as if you shouldn't have brought all these things inside.

The interior carpet is the definition of dizzying. Nonsensical white stripes stretching across navy blue only starts to bug you once you're walking down it. You know you're moving, but the endless hallway and repetitive pattern makes you wonder if you've wound up on a really fucked up treadmill.

Even worse, your room is all the way on the end. Leaving you to trod the entirety of the building, shoulder bumping against Rhett's, somewhat off-kilter.

"Talk about some fucked up carpet," he mutters, and you're pretending that you don't feel the way his arm is curling around you. Protectively cinching you into his side as someone's door creaks open.

If your heart doesn't quit hammering against your chest, you're going to be sick.

But you can't help it. Rhett's so warm in this chilly little hotel. Has yet to let you go, even after stopping at the door, thump swiping up and down against your hip as Bob fiddles with the keycard.

A shrill beep soars through the air, and suddenly, the door opens. Allowing you into your room, devoid of that migraine-inducing carpet, introducing you to a stained, yellow husk of a floor that you suspect was once white, a CRT television, and...

...

huh.

"Now, what made ya think we can all fit into a queen-size bed?" Rhett's chirping, head tilting, as if he doesn't quite believe what his eyes are showing him. Maybe if he shakes his head, a second bed will appear.

There isn't even a couch. Or a complimentary, uncushioned wooden chair, for that matter. The set of four indents in the carpet is your only hint that there once was a chair, or even a small table, of some sort.

Bob scratches the side of his head with the plastic key, only pausing to look at the numbers printed on the door as it swings closed with a heavy slam. Not designed for the luxury of silence, it seems.

Your head tilts, peering into the dark room to your right; hypothetically, that should be the bathroom, but as of right now, it might be an endless void that drops off into nothingness. Home to the monster that lived under your bed when you were six. Maybe even the one who used to live in Rhett's closet, the subject of his lunch conversations with you and Bob back in your elementary school days.

Rhett, once petrified of the dark, now the one to reach into the void, flicking on the light switch.

...on second thought, you would prefer the monsters.

Tiny black and white tiles coated with a yellowish substance that audibly sticks to Rhett's boots as he steps across it. The ripped shower curtain clings to a total of two hooks, poorly concealing the tub and the blackened scuff marks at the bottom.

Rhett lifts the toilet lid up with his boot. "Whatever y' spent on this place," his nose wrinkles as he speaks, "was way too much."

Thunder rumbles outside, as if mother nature herself has agreed with his conclusion. Beligerantly shaking the hotel, an ill-hung picture frame rattling against the wallpaper. The greater half of you expects the lights to entrap you in the total darkness of a power outage, but they remain as bright as ever.

In fact, they never flicker. Not even once, even as the storm begins to pick up. Droplets of rain patter against the window, hued by the golden glow of a streetlight hanging proudly outside of your room. An abstract portrait perfectly framed by stale curtains that refuse to budge, denying you the ability to close them entirely.

The black light in Bob's bag only confirms everything you already knew; half of the floor seems to light up the moment he flicks it on. Parts of the walls are stained in something you don't want to know the origin of, corners of the bathroom that you didn't plan on touching to begin with. Strangely, the bed is entirely clean, the new sheets sticking out like a sore thumb in this dated room.

Your shoes remain on, even as you slip into loose-fitting pajamas, unwilling to put your bare feet on this ancient floor, regardless of the inconvenience it causes. In fact, the only time they come off is when you climb onto the bed.

Rhett's standing at the foot of it, eyebrows knit together as his gaze flickers from the carpet to you, then Bob. "I reckon I take the floor?"

"Absolutely not," Bobby's beating you to the punch, nodding his head toward the open space to your left, "we can all fit."

You don't need to look to feel Rhett's questioning eyes, seeking your help in building a defense that you have no interest in. Instead, your hand idly pats the mattress, and it's the only answer that he's going to get out of you.

Maybe in another hotel, but certainly not this one.

The sigh that cuts through the air is the sweetest sound of defeat that you've ever heard, the corner of the bed dipping as Rhett swings his knee up onto it. And maybe you should switch sides with Bob because your eyes are already gluing to Rhett's bare chest. Old bull rider tattoo sitting proudly beneath his right collar, drawing your gaze down to the gentle swell of muscle.

You reckon you could get a nice handful of it if you were daring enough.

But it's too late to object to your positioning. Bob's already settling in on your other side, glasses clanking as he sets them on the rickety bedside table. His shirt still clings to his body, but his legs bump into yours as he shifts, a warm presence that makes you wonder what it would be like to tangle them together. And that's just as bad as if he was shirtless because now your mind is venturing into a territory that it doesn't belong in.

It's strange having him so close. Remnants of his cologne still cling to his skin, warm, sugary notes kissing your nose, and your selfish mouth wonders if his lips are just as sweet. If kissing him would be like walking into a hometown bakery, cozy and familiar, with welcoming arms that wrap you into a hug.

"Y' know," Rhett's stiff as a board next to you, back flat against the mattress, staring up at the questionably stained ceiling tile, "this ain't how I saw this goin'."

A part of you supposes that you can't blame him, though. You can't move either. "What, didn't plan on sharing a bed with us like old times?"

Bob is the only one daring enough to move, rolling onto his side, to face you. "At least, in the old times, we all fit."

God, how old were you the last time you three shared a bed? You know must have been before you turned thirteen because Bobby still had those obnoxious green-rimmed glasses, and he didn't change them until the day after your birthday.

Rhett must be on the same page as you because the corner of his lip lifts. "It's inappropriate fer you three to be havin' sleepovers!" Speaking in his best, mocking tone of his momma.

"Ma was so convinced that we'd get it on the moment we were left alone," Bob snorts, "meanwhile, all we wanted to do was play pictionary and watch tv all day."

Your head tilts, internally grasping for memories that you haven't dug up in years. "You didn't even know what sex was until you were, what, fifteen?"

"Fourteen," he clarifies, knee bumping into your thigh as he shifts against the mattress, "and I only learned because of that health class we were required to take.

Rhett's chuckle vibrates through the bed and up your spine. "Y' should've seen the look on his face when we went to the restroom after."

You reckon it's the same look that sits on Bob's face right now. Lips tightened into a straight line, eyes a smidgen wider than usual, and you're certain he'd be a shade paler if not for the street light. Warm rays shine through the water-stained window, puncturing through the darkness, painting everything it touches with its golden hues—some strokes of yellow and brown, too.

Those brilliant shades arc across your skin, staining you with its color, and stretch to fade against Rhett's bare skin. The rise and fall of his chest making that old bull tattoo look as if it's bucking in a pool of liquid gold. You've lost track of how many times you've caught yourself staring. The amount of hours wasted, wondering about what it would be like to tangle your fingers in his hair. To kiss across the broad expanse of his chest, if his hands would roam down your back or curl around the back of your neck.

Lightning cracks. For a moment, the only sound in the air is that of your breath.

The heavy fist of thunder strikes the ground.

You don't feel your back leave the mattress, but you certainly feel the landing. The way Bob jolts into you. Rhett's big arm darts out to curl around the both of you, cinching you to his chest, damn near rolling Bob on top of you. Squeezing tight, as if someone has come to steal you and Bobby away from him. Muscles so stiff that he feels like a steel post against you.

Outside, storm clouds grumble as if to laugh, as if this is some sick joke they orchestarted.

"God," Rhett lets go of a breath, fanning out against your cheek, "had me thinkin' someone kicked the damn door down." His head tilts down, lips pressing into the top of your shoulder, where the collar of your shirt exposes your skin.

The world around you screeches to such a sudden halt that you can hear the brakes squealing. Their shrill protests bouncing around the inside of your skull until your ears begin to ring.

He just...did he really...why?

Bob's gaze meets with yours. Then Rhett's. It's strange. Him being without his glasses and all. Almost just as strange as it is to see his eyes so...wide. Like a deer caught in the headlights, as if he's the one guilty of kissing your shoulder and not Rhett.

Rhett's chest rises with a breath.

"I'm...I'm sorry." Voice strained, afraid to let go of the air in his lungs.

"No, it's..." you're speaking before your own brain can catch up, too distracted by the way butterfly wings tickle your lower belly to think. "It's okay."

What the hell are you even saying? You're friends. This isn't...you're not...this shouldn't be okay.

Bob's mouth finds the side of your jaw. A fleeting peck so quick that you only register it when he's gone. Deliberately turns his head down, avoiding your attention, as he mutters something that sounds like, "Gotta even it out, right?"

It was here and gone so quickly that you're only beginning to feel how his thin lips pressed into your skin, leaving behind a coldness that wasn't there before. Far too real to match up to the hopeless wonderings that have frolicked in your imagination for so long.

Something must be in the air. Maybe you've fallen asleep, collapsing into the warm embrace of your imagination, because there is no way that Rhett's chapped lips are finding the other side of your jaw. No, this must be a trick of your mind. You've thought about this too many times for it to be real. This version of Robert Floyd, the one who scoffs and presses a second, insistent kiss on top of the old one, feels too dreamlike.

"Bobby," Rhett's whining, drawing out the vowels in that annoyingly pitchy tone that you so rarely get to hear.

"You started it," Bob's muffled by another kiss. Incessant, one after the other, spreading across your cheeks. The scruff of Rhett's unshaven jaw. The sweetness of Bob's cologne, up close and overpowering your senses. Are you sure this is a dream?

"I did not!" The sudden pitchiness in Rhett's cry is too on-point.

"Yes, you did!" You know that tone on Bob. Playfully accusatory. Breath puffing against your skin, so warm that the hotel air feels cold in comparison.

Their heads are rising. Neither realize how close they are until their noses ram into one another. Too headstrong for gentleness. Not when their giggles are dying down.

Bob's breath catches.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter.

The room is too quiet for this to be a dream.

This is real, and it shouldn't be happening. The nagging of reality chastises you for letting it get this far, for telling them it was okay and not putting a stop to it at the second kiss. But your stubborn heart hammers excitedly at your chest, and your tired soul knows better than to let your shaking hands settle behind their heads. You know not to push their heads in.

Yet, you do it anyway.

And their parted mouths find each other in the lightest embrace they can muster. Only lasts for three beats of your heart before they part, neither quite opening their eyes. The voice of logic asks why you did that.

The voice of your heart wonders why their attentions are turning back to you. Why Rhett is leaning in so suddenly, and why you've considered that he may want to kiss you, too. Because his mouth is warmer than the burning streetlight, and he smiles into it like he's gotten everything he's ever wanted.

You don't know when your eyes closed, but you don't need to open them to know that it's Bobby who kisses you next. Sweet and soft, like you're kissing a marshmallow and not your best friend. Then Rhett's finding you again, then back to Bob, and you're beginning to lose track of all these toothy, chaste pecks that never fail to stir up the butterflies in your belly.

"'s this what we're doin' now?" You can hear Rhett's grin in his tone, punctuated by your own daring venture, leaning up to catch his mouth again. "Kisses?"

Bobby's nose bumps into your temple, close for no reason other than for the sake of it. "What else would you call these?" You think that might be a little bit of stubble you feel, scratching against your forehead, only makes you want to run your hands across it. "Lip locks, smooches, a touch of the lips as a sign of—"

Rhett's cutting him short, the remainder of those babbling words devolving into a smothered grunt.

There's something off about this picture. You shouldn't be collapsing back into the mattress, smothered by the combined weight of Rhett Abbott and Robert Floyd. If this goes wrong, then how many years of friendship spiral down the drain? This isn't what friends do.

Friends don't share hotel beds and kiss under the streetlight glow. The sins of your selfishness are illuminated by those gleaming rays, allowing your greedy gaze to eat up the way Rhett's hair falls into his face as he sucks at the juncture of your jaw. How Bob's guiding himself with his nose, finding a spot behind Rhett's ear that makes him gasp.

"I suppose this is what our folks were afraid of," Bob's muffled voice punctures the silence, "us in the same bed and all."

A chuckle draws out of Rhett's chest, so deep the thunder ought to be jealous. "The ol' tyrant of my house would be havin' a fit if he knew 'bout this."

The voices in your head are still crying for you to stop here.

But you've forgotten how to listen.

"Who gives a damn," and before you can think twice about it, your hand is grabbing hold of Bob's shirt collar and yanking him in.

There's nothing worth worrying about. Not when Bob's weight is fully settling on top of you, chests rising and falling in perfect unison. The short locks of his hair fall forward, tickling against your skin, his big, warm palms cradling your cheeks, the gentle bump of his chin against yours drawing a whine out of your throat.

He jolts, breaking away with a gasp, "Rhett—"

"Don't you worry 'bout what I'm doin'," is the only response Rhett gives before Bob is sucking in another breath of air. Squirming, as Rhett nibbles at the juncture of his sensitive neck, has already left a red mark in his wake. And with Bob's unfortunate reputation, it's sure to bruise by sunrise.

Rhett's hands delve between your bodies, sliding beneath Bob's shirt, and that's all it takes for you to tug on it again. The three of you devolve into a tangle of limbs as you haul it over his head, exposing miles upon miles of milky white skin and intricately freckled shoulders. Tiny spots that you're racing Rhett to kiss.

All it does is make Bob bolder. Defiant palms gliding up the sides of your waist, pushing your shirt up to expose your warm tummy to the chilly hotel air. Bold fingertips stop just short of your breasts, bumping into the swell of them for a fraction of a moment.

Rhett's calloused touch glides up your newly revealed skin, greedy for a feel of you. "'n here I thought I was rushin' y'all."

"I didn't know there was a set timeline for this," Bob's leaning back, bumping into Rhett, as he fights to get a better look at you, laid out beneath him.

"There's going to be if you two keep talking," your eyes roll, pleasantly annoyed to find that they're still the same, even now.

"Ain't gotta tell us twice, darlin'." And before you can process what Rhett has just said, he's planting a palm between Bobby's shoulder blades and pressing. Has him collapsing on top of you in the blink of an eye, falling right between your parted legs.

It's Rhett's hips that push him forward. Grinding into the soft fat of Bob's ass, simultaneously pushing the outlnie of Bob's half-hard cock into your core. You don't know if it's you or Bob who whimpers the loudest, a bolt of lightning jumping up your spine.

That's... that's...

"Shit," Rhett swears, leaning in close, like he's worried someone will hear him through these ancient walls, "forgot you're still a virgin, Bobby boy."

"I'm begging you not to bring it up," Bob's choking through a stifled noise as your body rolls upward, his cock twitching so hard that you can feel it through your clothes. "Fuck—"

And there's more to that, but he's burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing hard as your hands slide up his back. Rising up into the first, weary motion of his hips. Strange at first. Doesn't quite know what he's doing yet; not quite as fluid, a little too rigid. But Rhett's grunting beneath his breath, and you've got the sneaking suspicion he's learning fast.

It sure feels like it. The heavy bulge in his sweats massaging against you, only drawing back to press into the body behind him, letting Rhett's instinctual thrust push him back in. Wondrously punctuated by the glisten of Rhett's teeth as he bites his lip, failing to hold back a groan.

Oh, and their hands are wandering. Rhett's calloused palms finding their way to your thighs, dragging up until he bumps into the hem of your shorts. Bob's fingers dare to rise and dance across your breast, feeling the way you fit into his grasp.

"'s an awful nice sight," Rhett muses, and now he's reaching beneath your shirt, too. Rucking it up to expose your chest, thumb fondly drifting over your nipple. Sends you jolting, knees knocking into Bob's sharp hips.

"You're one to talk," you don't realize it's you who's talking until the words are already out of your mouth, unhindered by the sudden yank on your clothes. Tugging the thin t-shirt over your head suddenly exposes you to them in your entirety.

They're falling over each other. Shoulders collide, and heads knock together as they dip down. Rhett's hot mouth wraps around your nipple. Bob's tickling tongue guides him down your collar, taking his time to shower your neglected breast with his attention, softened gaze never once leaving your face.

Your palm clamps over your mouth, back rising up off the bed. Oh, this is...this is...

Bob's whine cuts through the air. Has the utmost audacity to bat his lashes at you and pout. "Wanna hear you." His hips buck forward, knocking a noise past your lips before you can think twice.

You're in so much trouble.

But you can't dwell on it for longer than a fracture of a second because their attentions are already migrating. Working their way down your belly despite the limited space they've given themselves. Bob's shoulder bumps into Rhett's chin, growing closer and closer together until they're snug against one another, forced to stop just shy of your shorts.

Your thumbs are hooking into the hem of them before you can think twice. Had only intended to draw off one article of clothing at the time, but Rhett's helping hands tug your underwear down, too. Not an easy task when your legs are split around Bob's hips, forcing you to draw your knees up to your chest. Can't imagine the kind of view you must give them, just trying to get the material past your heels.

"Now wait a damn—" Bob's squeaking, batting at the hands yanking on his sweats. "Rhett!"

But it's already far too late because Rhett's shoving them down his thighs without a second thought. Heavy cock springing from its confines, so heavy and long that it struggles to stand upright, knocking into his hip instead. It's only because of the streetlight that you can see the thin vein running along the side of him, some dumb little quirk that you shouldn't find so endearing.

Rhett has yet to notice the apparent monster that's unwillingly made itself known in the room. Too busy messing with his own pants to look up and pay attention. Until a wayward glance damn near reels him in like a fish on a hook.

"Jesus, Bobby," he breathes like he's caught up in a goddamn trance. "Why'd ya never tell us y' were hung like a goddamn horse?"

Your daring hand reaches up.

"Forgive me," he's sucking in a sharp breath as your warm fingers wrap around his cock, feeling the weight of him in your hand, "I was waiting to tell you over a candlelit dinner somewhere in Paris."

You don't know what Rhett is up to until your hand is drenched in chilly lubricant poured from a bottle you don't recognize the origin of. Slickening the glide, squelching far too loudly for how delicately you spread it across him. Such a simple touch that draws the sweetest whine past Bobby's parted lips, so unused to the sensation of a hand that isn't his own.

Rhett's big hand encompasses yours. Squeezing tight as he guides Bob's cock down, thick length sliding through your folds. It's against everything a best friend should be doing, and yet, it feels so good—a twinge of excitement twirling up your spine from this alone.

"Y' ain't fixin' to believe how long I've thought 'bout this," Rhett sounds like he's on another planet. Doesn't fight as you take hold of his wrist, guiding his lube-slicked fingers between your legs, right to where you crave his attention most.

He doesn't need a lick of guidance from there. The rough pad of his finger presses daringly against your entrance, gasping with you as he slips inside.

"'n by the feel of it," his eyelashes flutter at the way you clench around him, some involuntary little movement that makes your knees feel weak, "y've got it as bad as I do."

Bobby shifts, throbbing length dragging against your clit a smidgen harder. Such a strange sight to see his flushed tip between your legs like this, rubbing up and down in languid motions, so distracting that you damn near forget that Rhett's hand is crammed between your bodies.

At least, you forget until his finger curls upward. Stroking against a spongey little bundle of nerves that makes you squeal. "Rhett!"

Wordless, he chuckles, a second finger dipping inside to join the first. Shallowly working his way in and out, only focusing on tormenting the one spot that makes you squirm. Your hand flies down to grab hold of his wrist, head tilting back, trying your damnest to ignore the way Bob traces his nails up your naked sides. A distant tickle that makes your back rise up off the bed, unsure if you want to lean into it or squirm away.

It's hard to ignore how easily Rhett's working you open. Two wonderfully thick digits growing to become three, stretching you wide and so, so much bigger than your own. You don't know how you'll ever satisfy your cravings, now that you've had a taste of the real thing. The way his knuckles catch on your rim, how his gaze fixates so heavily on the sight of your cunt taking him in.

As quickly as he appeared, he's drawing away. Leaving behind a certain kind of coldness that can only be thwarted by him.

"God, you're such a pretty sight," Bob marvels aloud, a certain sort of sparkle in his eye that wasn't quite there before. And there seems to be more he wants to say because his short pink tongue is darting out to wet his lips, already parting with the beginnings of another sentence.

But Rhett's hands are appearing on his naked hips, squeezing the bone there, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the way some of his fingers glisten with your wetness. Catching in the light as he nudges Bob forward.

"Jesus, Rhett—" Bob's knee slides against the comforter, struggling to keep up with the way Rhett's pushing him forward. "What're you doing?"

You've already got a pretty good idea of what your beloved cowboy is up to, your hand already reaching to wrap around his wet cock. Guiding him between your folds. Selfishly pausing to enjoy the final drag of his cock head against your clit, on its way down to where you're aching.

"Oh." He murmurs dumbly, sucking in a shaky breath as he squints up at your face. Never has been able to see far without his glasses. "I-is...is this okay? Are we...?"

"Only if you want it," you don't know why you're whispering, too focused on running your thumb over his slit to do much else.

Rhett's chin comes to rest against Bob's shoulder, peering down at the sight between your legs, then flicking his attention elsewhere. It's the kiss he plants on Bob's cheek that soothes his nerves because the tension melts from his shoulders in an instant.

Weary, Bob's head nods as if he needs to affirm it himself, too. "Okay..." the gears in his head are spinning a hundred miles a minute, but again, he's drawing a blank."I...don't know what I'm..."

On their own, your fingers guide him to press against your entrance, and from there, Rhett's got the rest.

"Jus' like this," he murmurs, biceps flexing as he nudges Bob's hips forward.

Pressure blooms. Your head falls back against the pillow. This doesn't feel real. There's no way you two are taking your best friend's virginity. But there's no way a dream could recreate the ache as his head slips inside you.

"There y' go...nice 'n easy," Rhett's deep grumble is something else entirely.

Bob's eyes squeeze shut, barely muzzling a whimper that sparks a heat in your lower belly. Can feel yourself grow wetter around him as he gradually pushes inside. The stretch is enough to make you reach for the sheets, squeezing them tight in your fist. Doesn't necessarily hurt per se, but God. You could have never anticipated this.

But he's slowly disappearing inside of you, inch by dizzying inch, and the bed is dipping as Rhett moves to settle next to you. Big chest on full display, the golden glow of the streetlight drawing your eye down his gently toned belly to where his cock rests against his hip. Thicker than Bob is, a glistening pearl of precum collected at his tip.

You can't help but reach over and take him into your hand. No, you've waited far too long to deny yourself the simple pleasure of spreading the clear fluid with your thumb, ears blessed with the sound of Rhett's breath catching.

All the while, Bob's hands find themselves braced on either side of you until he's finally confident enough to let himself lay against you. Soft lips find your jaw just as he bottoms out, not an inch of him left to take, his hips flush with yours.

"Ain't you two jus' somethin'," he's rolling onto his side, head snug against his pillow, and you reckon this is what a Greek god would look like down here on the mortal plane. Long hair and soft muscles, wrapped up in a cozy golden glow, smiling in a lazy sort of fashion that only ever looks good on him, "lookin' at me all doe-eyed."

But you can only focus on him for so long before you start to grow impatient, squirming, jostling Bob inside you. "You can move, Bobby,"

Obedient, he does just that, rising up onto his forearms, caging your head between them as he draws himself back. Only by about an inch, maybe two, before gravity reels him back in. The upper side of his cock already dragging deliciously against the nerves hidden along your walls.

He's learning too quickly for his own good, pulling out a little quicker, less hesitation in his hips as he figures out what he's doing. Knocks the breath right out of your lungs, keening in your throat. There's something about getting fucked by your best friend while the other one watches that really does things to you.

"Fuck," Bob's cold nose nuzzles your cheek, so close that you struggle to get a look at his face, "You feel so good, oh my god."

And he'd be babbling if he weren't whimpering like the cutest thing you've ever seen. Blindly guiding himself across your skin until his lips bump into yours, but he's too far down to kiss you properly. No, he's got to draw himself up a little higher, biceps trembling as he pulls himself upward, and—

"Bobby!" Stars sparkle in your vision.

Distantly, you think you catch the sound of Rhett chuckling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Bob's chanting under his breath, a dainty whisper of your name chasing it, your lips clashing for the briefest of moments, "'s that it?"

"Right there," you blurt. Can't keep a damn word on your tongue for longer than a millisecond. "Keep—keep doing that."

And he does.

Oh, he does, and you fear you might float right out the damn window and up into the stars. Legs rising, squeezing his hips, some obscene, wet noise punctuating the slick glide of him. Only worsened by the way he leans back, peering down at where you're split open around him, just enough of a shift for him to knock into those nerves a little harder. Mushroom tip kissing them over. And over. And over. Sends your pussy fluttering around him like a goddamn butterfly.

"Shit, I can feel—oh," and you're so thankful that he collapses back into you because your hands are aching to roam the war, freckled expanse of his back. Blunt nails digging into the meat of his shoulder, draws the faintest whisper of a hiss from his lips.

There's a hand on you that isn't Bobby's. Calloused. Wet fingers trailing down your side and into the pocket of space between your and Bob's bellies. Crawling down, down, down. Between your parted thighs, devilishly rough fingertips pressing to your clit.

"Rhett—" your strangled voice hardly leaves your mouth. Legs twitching around Bob's hips as those damned fingers start to spiral against you. It's not fair. He's figuring you out far too easily. Makes it so much harder for you to open your mouth again. "Stop."

Bob's head pops up. Wide eyes peering up at you, rhythm stuttering to a slow.

Delirious, your head shakes, "not you."

He doesn't say a word, but he's drawing himself back onto his haunches. It does nothing but give Rhett more room to torment you, even if his fingers have already stilled to a halt. You'll never understand how they manage to give you the same damned look, furrowed brows, and tilted heads, like two puppies trying to figure out what you're asking of them.

"Can't yet," you choke. It's so hard to find words when Bobby's still rolling into you, balls gently smacking against your ass. "Wanna..." you're trying to motion with your hand, but all you can manage is to flail your palm in Rhett's general direction.

But Rhett's figured you out. You know he has because his eyebrows rise, incredulous. "Wantin' both of us in the same night, huh?"

For a moment, you think you've won. His hand draws away as he moves to sit up, instead opting to tangle his hand in Bobby's hair and pull him in for a kiss that you hear more than you see. Wet lips smacking together, Rhett seeming to groan purely from Bob's little whine.

He's close. You can feel it. The way he's twitching inside of you, spontaneous motions of muscle that have no right to spark a fire within you. Burning up into your chest, eating away at the oxygen in your lungs. Rhett may have given up on getting you close. He may be sidling up behind Bobby again. But he might as well still be tormenting your clit, because that heat is spreading, and a familiar coil is beginning to tighten, clamping down around Bob's throbbing cock.

Rhett's big palm slides down Bobby's chest. Doesn't stop until he can pinch a perky little nipple.

Bobby yelps. And it's like he's been kicked back into gear because his hand is dipping between your legs, thumb stroking up your soaked folds, picking up right where Rhett left off. Rubbing feather light spirals into your clit. Shouldn't be enough contact to satisfy you, and yet the faintness of it all is somehow too much.

"I'm—I'm," he's stuttering, head shaking back and forth like he can fight off the feeling bubbling in his lower belly.

You should stop him here. You don't have anything to clean up with. If he cums in you, it's going to be in you for the whole damn night, making a mess of you, your clothes, and the sheets. And yet your legs are tightening around him anyway, ankles locked behind him, and you're nodding. In the same damn boat as him. "Uhuh."

His whimper cuts through the air. Pretty blue eyes rolling. The only reason he doesn't collapse on top of you is because of the arm Rhett's coiled around his waist. Hips stuttering to a sudden halt. Shoves you over the edge before you can think twice. Back arching up off the bed, cumming around his spasming cock with a cry you're certain the whole fucking building hears.

But clarity doesn't come to you.

There's no dawn of realization as your muscles quit twitching. Your shaky inhale does nothing to put out the embers still raging deep in your bones. Isn't a hint of sudden overexposure as you pry your eyes open, weakly smiling up at Bobby's sweaty face. You don't mind them seeing you like this at all.

Gingerly, Bob leans back, taking his time as he pulls out of your cunt; the muscles there still clenching around him, even if you can no longer feel that you're doing it. He barely has the energy to settle beside you, a warm arm resting across your stomach, pressing chaste kisses to your shoulder.

In the back of your mind, you think you can feel his cum spilling out of you.

"Shit, Bobby," Rhett murmurs, a wayward finger rising to push it back inside; you can't imagine what that must look like, "made a fuckin' mess."

The only remark he receives is Bob's half attempt at a grumble. Not his fault that you defiantly pulled him deeper, rather than push him away. But he does have the strength to reach for Rhett's forgotten cock, half hard and still just as flushed as it was before. Seems to know what he's doing when he flicks his wrist because Rhett's entire body jerks.

Your foot kicks his thigh, "still not done, cowboy,"

"You're somethin' else," he chuckles, with the faintest shake of his head, like he can't believe what's happening, "both of ya, actually."

But first, it seems he's got something else in mind. Rubbing up the inside of Bob's knee, breaching into the territory of his pale thighs, not particularly thick but just plush enough to grab a handful of. Squeezing, kneading the fat between his big fingers.

Bob's idle hand keeps stroking him. Slow ups and downs that work him back up until Rhett's leaking into his palm, angry red tip demanding attention. You have to roll onto your side to get a better look, the show only stopping long enough for Bob to lick the pad of his thumb, bringing it back to massage over the engorged head.

A beat passes. He does it again.

"If y' wanted to taste me, all ya had to do was ask," Rhett's fighting to speak through his grin, and you're primarily certain he's joking, but there's an undertone of seriousness hidden there, too.

That's all Bob needs to hear. "So come up here, then."

And who would Rhett be to deny him? Climbing up to straddle Bob's pale chest, leaning forward to grab hold of the headboard, his other hand guiding his cock to that cute, waiting mouth. Greeted with a shy kitten lick at first, unfamiliar with the ropes.

Your jaw aches just looking at the size of Rhett. Can't imagine what it must feel like for Bobby when he hesitantly parts his lips, taking him in, heavy on his tongue.

He's still new to this. Can't take very much into his mouth before he starts to gag, but his hand works what he can't fit, the corners of his eyes glistening with fresh tears. Whining his frustrations, breathing hard through his nose.

"There y' go," Rhett's sucking in a breath, "fuckin' fast learner, ain't you?"

It's impossible to reign in your laugh, "You're telling me." The mess between your legs is a testament of its own, sensitive and aching, whether it be craving from more or exhaustion, you can't tell.

"Eager as hell, too," Rhett's eyes roll; you wish you had a camera to capture that sight for the rest of forever. "Shit."

All Bob can do is whine. Mouth too full to do anything else, trying his best to lift his head and take more of Rhett's cock, even with the fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him back. Lips struggling to stay closed around him, knocked loose by Rhett's slow thrust.

"That good?" You murmur, so fixated on the sight of him that you've forgotten everything else.

It sounds like he tries to hum a little "uhuh" in response. Muffled, racing all the way up Rhett's sensitive spine. Has him jerking away with a gasp. Gripping the base of his cock with his fist like he's trying to chase off the twinges of sensitivity.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bobby's tone is frail. One loud noise, and it'll shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Rhett's breath slides between his closed teeth on its way back out. "Complete opposite, actually." A beat passes, and he's on the move again. Sliding down the bed, his hands coming to settle on your hips, squeezing lightly.

It's hard to tell if it's you or Bob who yelps. But one way or another, you've found yourself face down on the mattress. The whole damn world spinning around you, struggling to catch up. Has he always been that strong, or are you actually dreaming these things up?

"Chris above," Bob mutters, "since when were you able to do that?"

Rhett's not done. Lifting your hips until your knees slip beneath you, propping your ass up for him. "Y' wrangle enough calves 'n eventually it becomes second nature,"

You can't believe what you're hearing, blindly kicking with your foot once more. Miss. "Are you really comparing me to one of your cattle right now?"

"A mighty cute one," a wet noise emanates through the room as his cock smacks against your cunt, "if that makes it any better."

So long as he doesn't give you any ear tags, you suppose.

Maybe you've bitten off more than you can chew because, from the moment he nudges into you, one thing becomes painfully clear. He's so much thicker than Bob is. Stretching you even wider, has to pause to slick himself with lube because even with the obscene mixture of Bob's saliva and cum, it's not enough.

"Still so fuckin' tight," he hisses, grabbing a greedy handful of your ass. You don't know if you're tight or if he's just big, splitting you wide open, forcing the air from your lungs, eating up every bit of space you could possibly offer.

Thunder rumbles. The streetlight flickers like a candle. Off, on, off, then on again. Wind howls outside of the window, seems to be squeezing through the cracks of the seal because you don't know where else that cool breeze would be coming from. But it's no match for the heat radiating off Rhett's big chest, snug against your naked back as he presses kisses to your shoulder. Still pressing into you. Inch by devastating inch. Until his hips are flat against your ass, not a centimeter between your bodies.

You'd try to lift your head if you weren't fighting to keep it attached to your shoulders. Feels like it's about to spin right off your shoulders.

"Y' alright?" Rhett's asking so gently, infuriatingly, sets a half dozen butterflies fluttering in your belly.

As if this is an appropriate situation for them to be showing their flashy little wings.

"Move," it's only one word, and yet, you damn near have to strangle it out of your throat.

Rhett doesn't need another ounce of encouragement. Pulling himself back with all the power and confidence of a man who knows what he's doing. So thick that he hits those little nerves without the slightest effort, strikes them hard as he snaps back into you. Balls smacking into your oversensitive clit. His soft grunts nearly washed over by the smack of skin on skin.

"Bobby really did a number on ya," marveling aloud, so focused on the mess made of your pussy that you can feel the warmth of his gaze. Sticky cum audibly squelching inside of you, about to be so, so much worse once he's done with you.

But you can't think about that right now. Not when he's kissing up your spine, forearms bracketing your hips, keeping you from sliding up the bed and away from the heavy punches of his cock. "Y've no idea," kiss. "How much," another kiss, groaning under his breath. "I've wanted this." Kiss.

Your head tilts, peering over your shoulder, straining for a look at his flushed face. "You been dreaming 'bout fucking us, cowboy?" Taunting. A little too confident for someone split open on his dick.

"I'm the reason all our folks were worried," he's taking it all in stride, leaning back, sweaty chest glistening in the light as if to give you a show, "still waitin' to wake up 'n learn this is all a dream."

He leans off to the side. Feeling around, digging through the pocket of his discarded pants. Produces something shiny. Enough to make Bob's breath catch, but far too small for you to see what the hell it is.

And he sets it right against your ass. Metal so cold that it's the only thing you can think of. Round. With a little—

"Oh my god," you gasp through a whimper. Suddenly have the strength to rise onto your forearms, trying your damnest to defy the laws of your body and turn your head all the way around. "My promise ring?"

"Y' told me to do somethin' with it," he grins, downright devilish. An idle hand reaches below your belly, feeling around.

"I told you to make it disappear," the fight leaves your tone the moment his fingers press to your clit. What strength you have fades from your body in an instant, suddenly unable to think of anything but the motion of his fingertips. "Christ, Rhett."

Next to you, Bob seems to have stolen your energy, moving to sit up, unable to rest and watch any longer. You can barely see the way he sidles up next to Rhett, soft cock pressing into his thigh, kissing at that pale, sweaty neck, defiantly sucking a mark into the skin there. Seems to match the one Rhett left on Bob's neck earlier.

Rhett twitches inside of you. Keening in his throat. Doesn't realize what he's just knocked into. Electricity bolting up your spine. Arms going weak. So sensitive all of a sudden, pussy spasming around him. Driven by the spirals of his fingers and the sweet grunts that kiss your ears.

"Rhett," you're collapsing down into the pillow once more, writhing. Panting for a breath you can't catch. "fuck, I...I—"

His hips stutter. "I know it," breathy, rhythm quickening with an urgency you recognize too well, "c'mon, cum 'round my cock, doll."

You don't know where it's come from. All at once, your nerves are on fire, and you're shaking from head to toe. Biting into the pillow. Fighting to keep quiet as he fucks you, fat cock head rubbing against those little nerves over and over and over. You're gonna...you're gonna...

It washes over you like an ocean wave on a serene afternoon. Slow. Starts with a twitch in your foot and boils higher. Tightening like a vice as you cum around his cock. Mewling into the open air, head spinning. And yet you're just conscious enough to feel the stutter of Rhett's hips. Cumming inside of you with a guttural groan that rumbles deep into your bones. Think you can feel him twitching, throbbing as he pumps you full. Only adding to the mess they've made.

A mess that you have no idea how you'll clean up.

But for right now, you don't have much energy to be thinking about that. Because Rhett's collapsing into you, smothering you into the bed, and Bobby's coming down, too. Forming a big, sweaty pile on top of you. Arms wind around you. Kisses pepper your skin. It happens so quickly, and yet, you already don't know where they start and end.

And they're warm.

"We've made such a mess," Bob giggles, the tip of his nose bumping into your forehead.

Yes, you have. But all you can think about is squirming backward, stealing the heat radiating from Rhett's naked body, hugging someone's arm to your chest. You don't think you'll have the strength to move in the morning. Or the day after that, for that matter.

Frankly, you don't think they will be able to, either.

---

A part of you expects to wake up to the crushing reality of regret. That someone has had time to simmer on what happened and has decided this isn't what they really want. That it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. A mistake made over some well-timed hormones and poor thinking.

Not one bit of you expects what you're actually greeted with.

Two sleepy bodies. Kissing up on you. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as they bicker and fight over who gets to kiss your lips. Heads knocking together. Messy hair poking up in every direction as they struggle for dominance. Each stubborn in their own, adorable right.

It's not until later that you realize they're just as serious about this as you are.

It happens some time after Rhett bends Bobby over. Bob's inexperienced but eager tongue drawing an orgasm out of you before you've truly adjusted to the sight of him between your legs. Drooling. Whining as Rhett drills into him from behind, neglected cock bouncing between his pale legs, struggling to keep upright.

You reckon this is what you looked like last night. God, just the thought of it makes you sore.

Fresh tears spill down Bobby's face. Overwhelmed but too into it to stop, as his trembling body collapses on top of you. Lips still slick with your wetness, shuddering like a leaf in the Wyoming wind. Muttering weakly for Rhett not to stop. Leaning into your hand as it tangles through his hair.

He's cute, like this. Trying his damnest to keep up with Rhett, leaning on you to keep himself from falling apart at the seams. With his flushed cheeks and pitchy noises. So loud and unlike him. Confident when it's just the three of you. Unashamed to babble for Rhett to cum in him. Doesn't fear the cleanup that will involve or the short amount of time you have to get out of this hotel, lest they charge for another day.

No, you don't realize until after they both tumble on top of you. Heaving chests and tangled legs, pinned up against one another like sardines in a can despite the ample room available.

"Can I convince you two to get breakfast with me?" Bob's soft voice kisses your ears with its appearance. "I'll buy."

And all Rhett does is laugh. Loud. Hearty. The kind that makes his head tilt backward, curls bouncing. "Oh, so now y' wanna wine 'n dine us." He grins, palm coming down to lightly smack Bob's ass. Knocks a surprised whimper out of him. "Got that a lil backwards, Bobby."

Bob's eyes roll; he should have seen that remark coming a mile away. "I'm offering you free food, you dumb cowboy."

"Hey now," Rhett's still chuckling, the prettiest noise you've ever heard, "I never said I wouldn't take ya up on it."

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to you. Each glistening with their own form of excitement and hope that you've come to recognize over the years. You know it better than you know yourself. How Bobby offers you his every emotion on a silver platter. The way Rhett fails to hide the soft fondness reserved for you and Bob.

"Breakfast sounds good," and unknowingly, you've sealed your fate.

Not that you mind. Of course.

The drive takes twice as long as it was supposed to. Not one of you can keep your eyes on the road for longer than a few hours at a time. Too eager for kisses and fleeting touches and the shy, awkward giggles that come with crossing into this unfamiliar territory. Cramming yourselves into the backseat for an uncomfortable but cozy nap when the road becomes too much to handle.

When you were kids, your attachment issues were horrible. Not one of you could go without the other. Bobby sulked and refused to socialize with anyone who wasn't the two of you. Rhett raised hell when he was placed in a class away from you and Bob. Your entire week would be ruined if you couldn't go out on one of your adventures with the Abbott and Floyd boys.

You'd thought those issues had faded with time. A sort of thing melted by maturity and the understanding that separation would not be forever.

You were wrong.

When it comes time for Rhett to part ways to get ready for the rodeo to start, your heart defiantly aches. Isn't helped by the number of kisses he showers you and Bob with, the way he refuses to let go of your hands until the very last second. It's dumb, and it's childish, and you can't help it. Emotions are hard to handle. Especially ones that have been pent up for several years.

So you and Bob glue to each other. Share the same gasp when Rhett bursts from the chute. Unable to breathe as that beast of an animal bucks and twists through the air. Fighting with everything it has to get him off its back. The crowd roars for a cowboy they've never seen before and shoots to their feet before the buzzer sounds.

You don't see him fall off, but Bob catches sight of him bounding out of the arena. Disappearing once more, mixed in with the other riders. There and gone in less than a minute. All that driving done for such little time in the limelight. The only confirmation he was really there is when his name soars up onto the scoreboard.

He doesn't appear again until after the rodeo. When you and Bob stand idly by the parking lot, ears pricked for the sound of his voice, unsure if you're in the right place or not. These rodeos are never the same. Sometimes the riders come out into the parking lot. Other times, they wind up on the far side of the stadium, where they have no reason to be.

It's the clank of spurs that give him away. Moseying out from behind a gate,

His name still sits on the scoreboard, occupying the second-place slot. Got knocked down a peg by a bull rider with a hell of a ride. He should be cussing. Scowling that he almost had it, he'll do better next time and won't be beaten out by dumb luck. But that version of Rhett doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Because he's running. Arms wide open. A big, dopey grin on his scruffy face as he downright jumps on you and Bob. Spinning, dragging you two along with him like he's just won the lottery. Streetlight casting a perfect, golden glow on his handsome face.

He steals a kiss from your lips before you can register it.

Then one from Bob, too.

"Are you alright?" You're blinking. Once. Twice. But the illusion never fades; it's as real as you are.

All Rhett can do is grin. "Never better." But the corner of his lip twitches; knows exactly what he's doing.

"You're sure?" Bobby's falling right into his trap. Forever blind to the antics of a dumb cowboy. "You only act like this when you win."

"But I did win," Rhett beams, far too proud of himself, as he opens his mouth and says, "I got both of you, didn't I?"

...

huh.

Bob's groan resonates from the very depths of his soul. Eyes rolling. "Oh my god." Physcially needs to turn and look away, as if the very sight of Rhett pains him.

A smile bursts out onto your face. Truly don't know what you were expecting, all things considered. "How long were you working on that one?"

Rhett's grin grows impossibly brighter; you reckon the streetlights are jealous of its shine. "Stole it from the fella in sixth place, actually."

And with a wink, he starts to walk. On a one-way track to the car, he doesn't need to look over his shoulder to see if you'll follow or not. He knows you will. You all know it.

It will take twice the amount of time to get back to town. But as you and Bob stumble after your shared cowboy like a pair of too-eager puppies, you can't help but wonder if the home is where your boyfriends are. Wherever that may be.

Even in run-down hotels out in the middle of nowhere, as much as you may complain about it.

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot

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homestuckreplay · 23 days

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JOHN EGBERT BANGING OUT THE TUNES APRIL 21, 2009?!

After our adventures in John's bedroom and living room these past days, we now get a glimpse into his father's study. Unsurprisingly this room is also filled with harlequins, but this time the more businesslike monochrome harlequins, almost veering into mime territory. There's also a copy of 'The Serious Jester' on the desk. From this we could guess that this is where John's dad does the serious part of clowning - filing his taxes or whatever - if it weren't for the next line.

There is also a CAN OF PEANUTS on the desk. Ha ha, oh DAD. You won't be falling for THAT one again any time soon. A severe peanut allergy is a terrible affliction to cope with.

AGAIN?? Is this suggesting that John's dad, through carelessness at best, has been leaving peanuts around the house to potentially poison his son with? Can we infer that his ceaseless cake baking is a sort of Russian roulette, where most cakes are perfectly safe but there's a small chance any one could have peanuts blended in? Is the divide between John and his father that John does whimsical, ridiculous pranks while his father does 'serious' pranks that endanger people's lives? When are we going to meet this evil clown?!

A father without a pipe is like a strapping roughneck without a toothpick. That is to say, HE IS A RATHER PISS-POOR EXCUSE FOR A ROUGHNECK IF YOU ASK ME.

This is the THIRD time an opinion like this has been voiced by the narration - first the tire swing, then the fire, and now the father, all trappings of the suburban lifestyle in which John seems to live. The narrator explicitly calls themself 'me' here too, suggesting a distinct entity instead of a disembodied narration. Are we reading this from the point of view of an entity who is keeping John homestuck, forcing him to partake in all the trappings of home life? And does this have anything to do with Sburb - as someone pointed out on Discord last night, it's only one letter away from Suburb?

I think that captchaloguing a captchalogue card should cause John to open a portal to the astral plane like with bags of holding in D&D.

But the most exciting part of this update is John playing the piano on page 77 - complete with a song playing inside the animation! The song is Showtime by Kevin Regamey and Malcolm Brown, and it's a very pleasant listen. John is a skilled piano player!! Which means that sooner than expected, I'm getting an answer to my question of 'what is John good at'. I can't believe there hasn't been a single mention of music in this comic until now, and suddenly John busts out this simple but lightweight, airy, carefree melody that he's clearly practiced loads before. What other secrets is this kid hiding from us?

The caption on this animation is even more intriguing - '(Pages including sound will be preceded by [S] in the command.)' Is music going to become a regular part of the comic? Is John playing music going to become relevant to the plot, so we'll get to hear more of his songs, or will music be worked into the story in other ways? This is treading new ground, moving Homestuck further away from a 'traditional' comic, which only makes me more curious about where it'll go next.

#homestuck #reaction

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andreas-river · 11 months

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I wrote you a song.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley X GN!Reader

TW: panic attack, angst, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, no body description so gn!reader.

A/N: in the mood of writing fluff and some sweet time with Ghost. Next time i will write one of the most painful angst my mind can produce, i can feel it.

════════════════════════════

Night brings counsel, many say. The silence it brings, the dim moonlight filtering through the windows, the distant crickets hypnotizing with their chirps.

Simon felt none of this, seeing only the wall in front of him, moving and coming closer, distorting and trapping him in a claustrophobic embrace, the oxygen leaving his lungs and making him feel like a fish out of water: gasping at the air, wriggling in the hope that the air would return to him.

He laid on the bed, sweating, his chest covered with a sheen of sweat that glistened in the night light, his pants tightening around him more than they should, his eyes wide, staring into the void.

He found himself crawling across the floor, sitting under the open window, but nothing changed - the air seemed to be gone, his body shuddering with a chill that made him quiver and break into a cold sweat.

He wanted to shake off the weight in his chest, his calloused fingers barely clinging to his own skin.

Something in the back of his mind told him it was a panic attack, that he was experiencing one on his skin for the first time, though he knew he had experienced it before. He was panting with his mouth open, so fast that he felt dizzy as if he were sitting on top of a building - instead of in his room.

From his own room, from which he could hear everything that was happening at least four rooms away, an unfamiliar sound reached his ears like a haze. It was melodic, light, like a feather falling slowly to the ground, graceful and delicate in its being.

He moved on his own, his feet commanding his will, pushing his weight out of the room: he felt like a butterfly inevitably drawn to the light, or better yet, like the song of a siren. Wonderful, melodic, emptying his mind of all thoughts and problems.

The sound was closer and clearer now, sensing the touch of a few fingers on the strings of a guitar. It was as if the clarity of his mind suddenly returned, and he realized that he had just knocked on the door of your room, after promising himself that he would never come back, but after not even two days, there he was, shirtless, barefoot, and drawn by the sound coming from your room.

He found himself face to face with you, your eyes widening at his form, your face heating up at his shirtless body.

He just stares back without saying a word, almost more surprised than you. Regaining yourself, you open the door more, giving him access to your room.

He lets out a shaky breath, noticing how airy the room is: it feels bigger than his, the air slightly scented with lavender, noticing a purple candle on your night table. He watches you pat the bed with your hand, inviting him to sit with you, moving the guitar away. He follows your instructions, settling behind you and wrapping his arm around your body, engulfing you with his frame, snuggling closer with his face buried in your neck.

You reach back for his hair, massaging his scalp, earning a satisfied grunt from him.

"Can you play again?"

"Tears shine

You nod, picking up the guitar in your hand and playing a song you have been thinking about for a long time.

In your pale cheeks

With sad eyes looking to the sky

Oh my soul

I see you with the stars

You take me with you

Guide me across the ocean

Oh, my love

I wish I could hold you tight

Take away your pain

Protect you from all the evil

That your heart had to go through

Oh dear love

Can I hold you forever?

I don't want to leave you

Life is so beautiful when you are with me".

Sighing, you turn around and notice that he has stayed close to you without moving.

"Simon?"

"Hmm?" he hums with his lips buried in the skin of your neck, tickling you lightly.

"Do you want to sleep?"

He lifts his head, his eyes glistening with... tears?

"Are you crying-"

And so he finally falls asleep, to the soft sound of the guitar and your loving voice, finally leaving behind all the grief he felt until that moment.

"'M not." He shakes his head, smiling slightly, and you feel your heart flutter at how close he was. "But I will sleep if you sing again."

#simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost x gn reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw #request #request open

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meiusoo-twistedtwst · 5 months

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Twst as Lana Del Rey Songs

I tried my best…so many different choices, please keep in mind that probably all of them would likely have multiple songs that represent them well or even share songs, either way this is all just for fun so yeah!!

🐉: the whole song is apparently about death & love coming together, sleep=death, love= his relationships with the other characters

🦇: his whole life changed once he met Silver & Malleus

⚔️: it’s a song abt going/finding home

🐊: rlly difficult choice but this feels right- cherished every memory w/ his found fam (mostly) as his life is on the line during chapter 7, seems to carry bits & pieces of them to stay strong

💀: in the name + the verses are abt the way things were with someone (the way things rlly were w/ Ortho) & the chorus was all thinking abt how things could’ve gone (Idia wishes Ortho had never overblotted)

🤖: Idia almost always says yes to him, hence the lyrics. He watches over Idia & is his heaven😔

👑: he literally fears turning old + it’s apart of a movie soundtrack.

🏹: he loves everything & everyone, wants to live in the moment

🍎: similar to Ride, but seems to be abt how you can choose whether to be happy or sad, Epel could have overpowered his stubbornness if he originally tried adapting into Pomefiore

☀️: his money protects him, sure, but the world’s problems will eventually catch up to him-displays his naivety

🐍: lyrics kinda sound like he’d be lamenting over his losses right before Azul turns his “live stream” on)

🐙: he seems all nice & genuine until you realize he’s a mafia boss-

🍄: abt desire, longing, hedonism, the allure of the unknown- the lyrics themselves just straightforward, it’s all Jade-coded

🦈: his constant pursuit of hedonism

🦁: he was actually happy in Savanaclaw this whole time, but kept chasing aft the crown even tho happiness was right beside him

🍩: bec of that 1 verse that’s like “we don’t need money, we can make it all work” but the guy leaves to go make money anyways

🐺: the song is abt self-expression, self-assurance, & inner power- very Jack mentality

🌹: it describes his relationship w/ his mom & how he wants ppl to comfort him

☘️: he feels trapped w/ defending Riddle, also the revealer of his evil mom, lyrics show a hint of his sadist side, & he turned a blind eye to Riddle’s early tyranny, hence the storyline that goes w/ all the lyrics

♦️: abt living in the moment, appreciating ppl ard him. Love vs. ambitions, kinda sounds like someone trying to fit in

♥️: bec he’s no good for me:p + I feel the lyrics could literally describe his way of life & some of his morals

♠️: literally Deuce’s song😭😭!! Song abt starting over & self-discovery

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ikamigami · 2 months

Text

Why Sun doesn't always mean our Eclipse - the Dorito Bot - when he's talking about Eclipse?

The deep dive into Sun's mind and the way his delusions work (supported by my own experiences and research on that topic).

It's my meta analysis of Sun's mental disorder. I'll try to explain why I think that this is a highly possible explanation of Sun's very complicated relationship with Eclipse.

I was thinking about this for quite some time. I always knew that Sun's relationship with Eclipse is very complicated, very complex. I've seen a lots of takes about how Eclipse sees Sun and how looks his relationship with Sun. But whenever it came to Sun and how he sees Eclipse and how looks his relationship with Eclipse.. it wasn't that. I wasn't sure why but something was missing in people's interpretations.

Now I know what it is. Many people misinterprets Sun's view on things because of misunderstanding of his mental issues. Same was with how I was misinterpreting Eclipse at first. I didn't understand Eclipse's mental issues.

I explained in many of my posts that I think that Sun has depressive psychosis and his delusions are centered around guilt and unworthiness. Sun most definitely hallucinated a voice who was saying demeaning things to him and was trying to guide Sun through his life, reminding him that he's evil.

What if I told you that Sun was unaware of Eclipse's existence as our Eclipse - Dorito Bot? Sounds crazy, right?

I think that's because Eclipse introduced himself in a really really wrong way. When Sun met Eclipse for the first time (remember he also heard him for the first time then) he didn't recognize him as our Eclipse. For Sun it was more like "so that's how that voice I'm hearing looks like" type of situation.

So for Sun there are two Eclipses. There's Eclipse - our Dorito Bot and there's Eclipse - the figment of Sun's mind, the entity that Sun hallucinates. But I think that for a long time Sun couldn't differentiate between the two. Why? Again, it's because I think that our Eclipse had the same voice and he was saying the same things that the voice was saying to Sun.

The Eclipse from Sun's mind, let's call him Sun's Eclipse or "Eclipse", is also Sun. It's true Sun. I mean in Sun's delusional mind this voice is him. It might be hard to understand but it's something like in Ren's song - Hi Ren:

"You think that you can amputate me?

I am you, you are me, you are I, I am we

We are one, split in two that makes one, so you see

You got to kill you if you wanna kill me

I'm not left over dinner, I'm not scraps on the side..."

These lyrics capture the best what I'm talking about here.

And to back up the statement about Sun viewing Eclipse as the physical manifestation of the voice in his head, I'll tell you that when I watched "Sun meets Eclipse" episode I felt nauseous.

I'm serious. For me their meeting felt like all those times when the voice was speaking to me. So when I saw that episode, my anxiety skyrocketed and my insides were flipping and I was sweating cold. It was crazy. That episode was insane to me and I wouldn't be surprised if Sun just thought that the voice he's hearing is real. I mean even more real than it already was.

Sun viewing Eclipse as the voice in his head explains why he told Moon that Moon isn't like Eclipse and why Sun thinks Eclipse is worse than Moon. Because Sun's Eclipse is an awful monster. Moon was trying to change. Sun's Eclipse would never.

Sun still tried to be nice to Eclipse and help him though. He felt bad when he had to expell him out of his own head. After that everything changed. Sun's mental state worsened.

I'm certain that Sun still could hear "Eclipse". And upon seeing Moon exhausting himself with searching for Eclipse's backups, Sun was feeling more and more awful. After all, he was the one to blame for this situation. He didn't get rid of "Eclipse". The "Eclipse" returned. But this time it was worse. Because "Eclipse" wasn't trapped in his head anymore. Now "Eclipse" could cause even more damage.

Sun was depressed even before October takeover but it only got worse with him sinking deeper into his delusions. He was a failure. He was unable to help with anything. He caused all their problems and yet the one who was endangering himself was Moon even though it should've been Sun.

With things getting progressively worse, Sun was scarying Lunar while playing games and he destroyed Moon's computer which caused Moon's kill code to reactivate and their father was giving them more headache, Sun's mental state kept worsening till he reached the breaking point.

During Sun's late development of psychotic episode Bloodmoon appeared in the Daycare looking like Moon. Many people were shocked that Sun shot them while they were looking like Moon but not many realized that Bloodmoon's words triggered Sun's PTSD. I think that when Sun shot Bloodmoon he didn't see Moon. He saw "Eclipse". The same "Eclipse" he expelled from his head. Bloodmoon said almost exactly the same words that Eclipse told Sun back then.

Not long before that happened Sun was repeating to himself that he isn't like him after he said that maybe they should kill their enemies. These were his intrusive thoughts but for Sun, he was turning into "Eclipse". And after he killed Bloodmoon, he realized that he's just like him. After that point Sun completely slipped into a firm grip of his delusions.

He had to kill "Eclipse". It was a suicidal mission. Sun didn't plan to get back to the Daycare. He had to make sure that all "Eclipses" including himself will be dead. And also that's why he was willing to kill Solar Flare. Because "Eclipse" built him thus means "Eclipse" is still alive.

Eclipse wasn't aware how much power he had over Sun at that moment. When he grabbed the sword, Sun immediately lost his confidence. Sun was always afraid of "Eclipse" so when he lost so quickly, he was unable to fight back anymore. He burst with magic only because he was in highetened emotional state triggered by Eclipse's words that Moon wouldn't care if he killed Sun and by reminiscence of hallucination of Bloodmoon's taunting words at Beta 10.

The scene that is a more solid proof that Sun hallucinated "Eclipse" was a moment at the end of the episode "Sun is trapped by Moon". We could hear Sun saying while looking at his own reflection "you're pretty pathetic, aren't you". We know that it was Sun speaking but he sounded like Eclipse in that moment. I think that it was intentional. I immediately thought that maybe Sun saw Eclipse in the reflection because it's quite common for those who hallucinates to talk with their own reflection because they see there someone else.

The clue that Sun view himself as "Eclipse" was that scene when he told Moon that he doesn't know anything about Sun and that Sun isn't a hero. Sun was "Eclipse" then. He was a monster. That's why he said that Bloodmoon's death didn't affect him. Because "Eclipse" doesn't have remorse. Sun doesn't have remorse because Sun is "Eclipse".

After Sun blew up Moon's mana pool he listened to Eclipse because "Eclipse" always know better than Sun. Sun is the one who ruins everything. "Eclipse" is there to help him. Later when Sun recalled those memories he said that he tried to kill Eclipse with magic blast. He remembers it like that because he remembers that he went on a mission to kill "Eclipse".

If it wasn't for Earth finding him in the forest and calming him down, Sun would most probably either kill himself or harm himself badly.

Later upon feeling guilty at what he did, Sun learned that Old Moon is indeed gone, he heard his last message, he learned that Lunar was blown up and that Eclipse got the star. It made Sun feel even more guilty. And because he had to help New Moon and Earth to adjust to their new lives, he pushed away his grief. Sun in order to prevent himself from seeing hallucinations was overworking himself.

Sun's mental state worsened even more to the point that he became passively suicidal and when opportunity arised he decided to become conduit for star's power. This is how Sun planned to end his own life. And he would also help with getting rid of "Eclipse" which made Sun feel better about killing himself. He would get rid of all "Eclipses" for good.

Though when Sun heard that star's power is slowly killing Eclipse, I'm sure he felt conflicted. Because when he popped off at Eclipse he felt bad after that and was seemingly concerned about what is happening with Eclipse because the latter wasn't showing up for quite awhile. And that's why I think that Sun was willing to listen to Eclipse. Remember Sun isn't a murderer. He despises killing. Unfortunately, Eclipse being Eclipse, threatening Earth and saying demeaning things to both Sun and Earth and telling them to kill Lunar, triggered Sun. He was seeing "Eclipse" again. He wasn't talking with Eclipse anymore. It was "Eclipse" all over again.

After time had passed we could see Sun's guilt wearing him down. He killed once again. He was visibly tired of killing. He tried to stop Moon from killing every person that they felt uncomfortable around - Forkface and Mimic. Sun starts to ask himself about Eclipse's existence while questioning his own. He's still passively suicidal.

Though Lunar got revived and a little bit later Solar joined them and Ruin didn't seem as a threat that much. It seemed that things got slightly better. Not for long because Ruin built New Bloodmoon. From that point things started getting worse pretty quickly. Bloodmoon attacked Lunar and Ruin was planning something big. Sun was worried with how Moon was letting his anger to overtake him. Ruin together with Bloodmoon blew up the Daycare and Sun and Moon were sendt to Ruin's dimension for whole October.

Sun didn't have that much time to think too much about everything because they had to stay safe and get a way back to their dimension. Though he wasn't free from worry. He was scared that Moon won't wake up twice during their time in Ruin's dimension. It gave him PTSD and he was afraid that Moon could've been dead.

After some pleas Moon agreed that Sun will take the cure for ruin virus from Ruin's creator's laboratory. They were able to come back to the Daycare safely and they gave Ruin the cure. Things started to seemingly calm down. Solar rebuilt the Daycare. Ruin was now good. It didn't last long because Bloodmoon returned and killed Earth. They decided to hunt them down.

Unfortunately Moon and Solar made bad decision by forcing Sun to go on a hunt for Bloodmoon. Gladly they heard Sun out and let him try to give BM a chance. BM refused Sun's offer and then Sun learned that BM was actually behind July 16th incident, not Eclipse. Earth later told Sun and Moon that maybe Eclipse could've been redeemed because he seemed to be changing.

Later things seemed to get better. Though the problems kept stucking. The boys learned from Lunar about his powers and that Astral Bodies are observing them and if Lunar won't control their powers, he'll get killed. They were also warned to not use star's power because they also could get killed for that. And SW kidnapped Earth and threatened Sun and Moon to stay away from his business. They found out that Earth has some program which erases her memories about her father being evil.

Sun's mental state kept worsening but now he was lying and saying that he was doing okay. Because others had more important issues on their plates.

After Christmas Eclipse announced his return and threatened them that he'll kill them. Moon became more paranoid and aggressive which was scarying Sun. Thankfully Solar was there to stop Moon from making rush and dangerous decisions.

Sun went to therapy session with Earth and told her how Eclipse's return was stressing him out. While I think that he wasn't telling the whole truth, there was some truth to it. I think that Solar's presence was helping Sun with seeing Eclipse differently. And I think that it was then when Sun realized that Eclipse isn't the same as "Eclipse". But Eclipse's return and the way he was talking and acting, yet again triggered Sun. He saw "Eclipse" once again.

Later Sun and Moon were searching for Eclipse. Sun's words about killing Eclipse and creator are callback from the time when Sun said that they should kill their enemies. In both cases they were Sun's intrusive thoughts but for Sun it isn't like that. That's why both times Sun called himself stupid because he knows that this is bad. This time is different though because Sun promised himself that he needs to be stronger. In order to prevent the repeat of events from last year, he decided to not engage in anything and he left things for Moon and Solar.

Seeing how he blew up at Catnap shows us that sitting and waiting for others to resolve things makes things worse. We can still see signs that Sun is suicidal. He keeps making weird comments and told a suicide joke to Catnap.

Up to this point Ruin was able to trap Eclipse and Moon gave Eclipse a chance but he had to agree on the deal. Now they were searching on who brought Eclipse back together with Eclipse.

But let's focus on the conversation Sun and Moon had with Eclipse. Sun seemed nervous maybe even scared. He was unable to look at Eclipse. And he constantly repeats that he wants Eclipse dead. It doesn't make sense with how guilty Sun seemed before Eclipse returned and how he told Solar that he's making him feel better about Eclipse.

That's because Sun doesn't want to kill Eclipse. He blames himself for how Eclipse turned out to be. But I think the way Eclipse talks and behaves, trigger Sun's delusional mind and he's unable to differentiate between Eclipse and "Eclipse". He wants "Eclipse" dead. Not Eclipse. He said that he wanted to save Eclipse at first. But he wasn't talking about Eclipse. He's talking about "Eclipse" who is him so he's actually talking about himself.

In order to prevent himself from hurting others, he needs to take out the root of the problem which is "Eclipse" - the true Sun. He wants to kill himself. After all, he said that the worst thing that happened to him is that someone showed up in his head and that they came back even if Sun got rid of him. Over and over again. I think that Sun was talking about "Eclipse". He's tired of being evil and constantly ruining everything and making everything worse and hurting others.

Important thing to note is that Sun turns off every mirror in their house because he can't look at his own reflection because he doesn't want to see "Eclipse". He tries to distract himself by playing games, sitting at computer all day or spending some time with others so he won't hear "Eclipse" anymore. But it isn't enough so now he drinks his stress away hoping that maybe it'll muffle "Eclipse's" voice. But it won't help in the long run. Sun can't run away from his mental issues forever.

On lighter note I think that Sun may try to reach out to Eclipse encouraged by Solar's presence and companionship. It seems that Solar helped Sun a lot when it comes to Eclipse. Unfortunately because others are unaware of Sun's mental disorder it only helped a little because now Sun is more than sure that the "Eclipse" he wants to kill it's he, himself. I'm betting that Sun will try to apologize to Eclipse.

But to be honest I doubt that Eclipse will accept Sun's apology and take his offer of help. It's completely understandable. He has valid reasons to not trust Sun and to not want to have anything to do with him. Though I'm afraid that it'll cement in Sun that he's unable to fix what he messed up. We could see that with Bloodmoon and it'll probably be the same with Eclipse.

And with high possibilty that others will be able to resolve the problems without Sun's help, it might be a final push for Sun to end his own life. To finally get rid of "Eclipse".

I think that we're heading to ending of this arc soon and then we shall see how things will turn out to be.

I hope that all of this was somewhat coherent and makes sense. I tried my best to explain why I think that for Sun there are two Eclipses and why Sun thought for a long time that our Eclipse was "Eclipse" - Sun's hallucination, the voice from his head.

Also I hope that I didn't make too many mistakes.

#sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sams eclipse #sun and moon show eclipse #meta analysis #mental health #tw suicide #tw depressive psychosis #tw intrusive thoughts #tw psychotic episode #tw delusion

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aanoia · 9 months

Text

arms

Sirius Black x reader

Song; arms by Christina Perri

Words; 2019

Warnings; Sirius :)

I may have went a little overboard with the wedding but oh well

Please send in some requests (for ppl who have already requested I'm working on them !!)

I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart

But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start

It was no secret to anyone in Hogwarts that Sirius Black hated Slytherins. He had vowed to himself to never interact with one if not in the circumstance of an argument or prank. He’d honestly say he hated Slytherins more than he loved his best friends, and he would never ever, ever change his mind that they were evil.

Imagine the boy's surprise when he looked up from his food and his eyes momentarily caught sight of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hair fell perfectly around her face as her eyes shined. She had the most beautiful smile and the cutest nose that scrunched up as she laughed with her friends. Everything about the girl put him in a trance, that was until his world was shook as he saw the color of her tie. How could something so beautiful be associated with something so ugly?

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Sirius’ body instantly relaxed as a familiar pair of arms wrapped around his torso. Y/n softly kissed in between his shoulder blades and sighed as she relished in his warmth. He dropped the letter he had received from his parents and put his hands upon hers, squeezing gently.

“Hello there, Siri.” Y/n greeted, her voice muffled by Sirius’ jumper.

He laughed softly, “Hello, love. What’s up?”

Sirius felt her shoulders move up in a shrug, “Missed you, is all.” She mumbled and his heart warmed. The sorting hat had to have made a mistake because this girl was no Slytherin, she was an angel sent from the heavens.

How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I just can’t do this.” Sirius said with tears in his eyes. He watched as the love of his life wiped her own tears off her cheeks and gave him a broken smile.

“Come back to me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head, “It’s not like that this time. I’m not coming back.”

“You say that every time.”

I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown

Sirius clutched the chest of his jumped tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his sobs silent. His heart felt as it was being choked as the lump in his throat grew. The cool air of the night brushed its fingers through Sirius’ hair and he looked to the sky with blurry eyes, resisting the urge to just scream until his lungs gave out.

Trapped in his own bubble, he missed the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs of the astronomy tower. He missed the door opening and the loud thud of an old, hardcover book hitting the ground. All he knew was the moment familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders he broke and he finally let the sobs leave his throat.

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/n quietly asked her boyfriend as he silently watched his friends play chess by the fire.

He turned his head with a small smile, “Whatever do you mean, beautiful?”

Y/n sighed and grabbed his hand, “You play with your necklace when you’re stressed out. You’ve been fiddling with it all day, Siri.”

Sirius’ smile fell and his head dropped, “It just sucks.”

Y/n gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her chest. “What sucks, my love?”

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh, “Everything. My parents. Sch- wait, how are you in here?” He asked abruptly, sitting up to look his girlfriend in the face.

She smirked, “I have my ways.”

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“What’s so special about her, Pads? You’ve never let a girl do this to you.” James asked Sirius as they cleaned up after Quidditch practice.

Sirius smiled as he got a familiar glint in his eyes, “She’s my Lily, Prongs. She’s my everything.”

James laughed and shook his head, sighing to himself, “Never thought I’d see my best friend genuinely be in love with a girl. I’m happy for you, mate.”

The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved

I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone

“Sirius, you need to stop!” Y/n yelled, the rain soaking her hair, she couldn’t tell what was raindrops and what was her own tears.

“No! No, I won’t! I’m done, this isn’t working!” He sobbed, stumbling back.

“Sirius, goddamnit, I love you! I fucking love you!”

He shook his head bitterly, “No, no you don’t. The two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally kicked me out for fucks sake! No one fucking loves me, Y/n! No one!”

“I do!” She reasoned. “I do. I love you and I get it. I get why you don’t think anyone can love you but I do, Siri. Please.”

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

Sirius fell to his knees, his body shaking, he could barely hear her over the rain and blood rushing to his head. She knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms around his body, holding on impossibly tight.

“I need you to, please, just let me love you. I need you to- Fuck, Sirius, I need you.” She begged and he threw his arms around her as well.

“Don’t let me go, please.” Sirius whispered in Y/n’s ear.

She nodded, “I won’t. Never.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

Y/n froze as she felt Sirius tense beside her and she looked up. Her face dropped as she saw his mother angrily storming towards them.

“Come on, we must go. I’d like to go back to the castle and cuddle for a while.” She said and pulled him out of the shop and into the busy streets.

“Sirius!” They heard faintly and the man flinched.

“No, it’s okay. Come on, let’s hurry. We can stop by the kitchens and the elves like me so they’ll probably make us something if we ask nicely, yeah?” Y/n asked gently, trying to distract him and they hurried up the path.

Sirius nodded with a small smile, “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

Sirius furrowed his brows, “Taking me away from my mom?”

Y/n laughed, “You’re mom? Where? Have you hit your head, Sirius?” She asked with a teasing smile.

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“I’m so lucky to have you.” Sirius whispered late at night. The soft snores from James and the quiet breathing from the rest of the Marauders being the only sounds in the room.

“Yeah?” Y/n asked, smiling.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, Sirius.”

I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth

And I've never opened up

I've never truly loved

“I’ve never, like- I’ve never-” Sirius groaned angrily, not being able to find the words.

Y/n crossed her arms, “Never what, Sirius?”

He sighed, “I’ve never done this before. And I really don’t want you to be frustrated with me because I’m trying but I don’t- I don’t know how.” He confessed and the girls face softened.

“Oh, Sirius.” She pulled him into a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry for getting angry. It’s okay that you don’t know what to do. Truthfully, I don’t either. But we’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

Sirius nodded, finding comfort in her hugs, “Together.”

'Till you put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” Sirius asked randomly.

Y/n smiled at her boyfriend, “Never been more sure of anything in my life. Except for maybe Potter being a dimwit, but you know what I mean.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll put a bandaid on. Easy peasy.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

I'll never let a love get so close

“Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is connected in our thoughts with the charm of love, the warmth of home, and with all that is pleasant, as being one of the most important events of our lives. Its sacredness and unity is the most significant and binding covenant known in human relations. Sirius and Y/n, let me charge you both to remember that your future happiness is to be in mutual consideration, patience, kindness, confidence, and affection. It is the duty of each of you to find your greatest joy in the company of the other; to remember that your love pledged today must remain undivided for a lifetime.” The priest recited with a smile on his face.

Sirius smiled at his soon to be wife, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Y/n gently wiped it from his face and brought her hand back to her side with a wide smile, tears filling her own eyes.

“It is your duty, Sirius, to be to Y/n, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving husband: to support, guide and cherish her in prosperity and trouble; to thoughtfully and carefully enlarge the place she holds in your life; to constantly show to her the tokens of your affection, to shelter her from danger, and to love her with an unchangeable love.” Sirius nodded, dedicated to fulfilling everything he just said.

“It is your duty, Y/n, to be to Sirius, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving wife; to comfort, guide and cherish him in prosperity and trouble; to give to him the unfailing pieces of evidence of your affection; and to continue making the place he holds in your heart, broader and deeper; to support him, value him and work with him to make your marriage the very best that it can be.”

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“If you are ready to assume the obligations and duties before God, as I have defined them, you will unite your hands and pledge your love and your lives to each other.” Sirius grabbed onto Y/n’s hands, rubbing small and soothing circled onto her soft skin. The priest looked at Sirius, “Groom, repeat after me. I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold, from this day forward.”

“For better, for worse.”

“For richer, for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health.”

“To love and to cherish.”

“For as long as we may live.”

“This is my solemn vow.”

The priest smiled, “Very good. Now bride, please repeat after me.” The two went through the same speech, having to stop a few times as Y/n’s voice cracked. “Sirius, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sirius nodded, “I do.”

“Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Of course, I do.”

The priest nodded, “Groom, you may kiss the bride.”

Sirius immediately brought their lips together as everyone cheered. Y/n wrapped her arms around Sirius’ neck, never feeling happiness quite like this.

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Taglist (if you'd like to be added comment :))

@loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius being sirius #harry potter #peter pettigrew #Spotify

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nrpony · 10 months

Text

My Little Pony: The Movie (1986) Press Kit Scans Post 3

Synopsis

I apologise in advance for the wonky scans. I was trying to figure out a good way of doing it without creasing the corners and some of them turned out kind of messy. I’ll include a transcription of everything below the cut.

Directory (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Transcription:

Page 1

At the annual Spring Festival in Ponyland, all the little ponies celebrate the end of winter with a happy pageant of song and dance. But, while they revel, the wicked witch Hydia (Cloris Leachman) and her equally nasty daughters Reeka (Rhea Perlman) and Draggle (Madeline Kahn), hatch a plot to turn peaceful Ponyland into a dark, dank and dreary wasteland.

During the festival, Lickety Split, a well-meaning but self-centered little pony, inadvertently ruins the show. Humiliated, she runs away, accompanied by her friend Spike, the baby dragon.

Meanwhile, back at the Volcano of Doom, Hydia, Reeka and Draggle busily conjure up evil spells. When an initial attempt to flood Ponyland fails, an enraged Hydia decides it’s time for the Smooze.

Page 2

She sends her daughters out to collect the necessary ingredients: mold, mildew, muck, mire, fungus, slime, rust and phlume.

The evil witch sisters collect everything except the dreaded phlume, but they don’t tell their mother, who happily creates the Smooze, (Jon “Bowzer” Bauman). Soon the purple ooze bubbles over the lip of the volcano and heads towards Ponyland. “Nothing can stop the smooze now,” cackles Hydia.

Warned of impending disaster, the little ponies prepare for the oncoming Smooze. Wind Whistler and North Star fly over the clouds, bringing Megan, Molly and Danny, along with the Rainbow of Light.

As the Smooze rolls across Ponyland, it traps Lickety Split and Spike in a cave, where they encounter the Grundles, ugly but friendly little creatures who have lost their kingdom to the Smooze. With the aid of the Grundle King (Danny DeVito), they escape.

During a tremendous showdown, the Rainbow of Light manages to stop the Smooze, but in the process, the Dream Castle is covered over, the rainbow is trapped in gooey muck, and the little ponies are forced to evacuate their beloved home.

Page 3

A shocked Hydia forces her daughters to admit that they omitted the phlume from the Smooze formula. Furious, she sends them out after the dreaded ingredient. Mission accomplished, the phlume is added to the dormant Smooze, and it springs back to life.

Desperate at this point, Megan, Wind Whistler and Fizzy visit the wise old Moochick (Tony Randall), who provides them with an ancient map leading to the Flutter Ponies, magical little winged ponies who might be able to stop the Smooze.

Lickety Split, Spike and the Grundles have a series of misadventures as they outrun the Smooze. During their travels, they rescue Morning Glory, a tiny gossamer-winged Flutter Pony, trapped in a well. A grateful Morning Glory offers to lead them to Flutter Valley.

Meanwhile, back at the new pony home, Paradise Estate, the little ponies, the Bushwoolies and other woodland creatures huddle together helplessly as the Smooze oozes towards them. The witches gloat triumphantly atop their Smooze boats!

Just when all seems lost, the sky fills with tiny Flutter Ponies who shift into Utter Flutter, creating a tremendous wind when they flutter their wings in unison. The sound is like a thousand tiny wind chimes and the force sweeps the Smooze all the way back

Page 4

to the Volcano of Doom, uncovering the Dream Castle and freeing the Rainbow of Light. Hydia, Reeka and Draggle are dumped back into the volcano, along with the last of the Smooze.

With new understanding about the meaning of friendship, the heroic Flutter Ponies return home. As thanks for saving Lickety-Split and Spike, the Ponies give Dream Castle to the Grundles. Happiest of all is Baby Lickety-Split, glad to be back home with the Little Ponies where she belongs.

#mlp #my little pony #mlp g1 #my little pony: the movie #my little pony the movie 1986 #g1 #press kit #production materials #mlp n friends

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0kayblue · 1 year

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Do You Still Love Him?

You are retired, you are married, you have a foster child, you have all of this without Leon Kennedy.

(Part II) (Part III)

Main character relations: reader x oc-ish husband (Bill) (romantic) reader x Leon Kennedy

Word count: A little over 7k

Angst, angst, and more angst.

A/N: Hello! If you followed me thinking it was all Stranger Things you are sadly mistaken. I have entered my Resident Evil era and Leon Kennedy has a ridiculously tight choke hold on me. Please bear with me through this trying time.

“No.” The word left your lips quietly as you quickly sat upright. You tried not to panic as you began to regulate your breathing. You looked around the bedroom trying to learn to relish in familiar surroundings. You were sitting in your bed, in your home, you were safe. It was a nightmare, nothing more and nothing less, it wasn’t real.

You began to try to relax as you rested back against the bed frame. You heard a moan and the weight beside you started to shift, knowing you had woken him up again. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No.” He protested as he sat up and snaked his arm around you pulling you to his side. He cupped your cheek with his other hand and made you look at him. Your cheeks stained with semi-dried tears as his heart broke. He kissed both of your cheeks and then placed a stern kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to talk about it this time?” He asked as he rested his head against yours as he tried to comfort you.

“No.” You mustered out from against his pajama shirt. “I’d rather forget, Bill.” You sniffed, trying not to break in his arms. You’d come to him in time and he knew that, but nightmares back to back weren’t common. His concern was more than valid.

“I know.” He cooed, “You’re okay, it’s okay. I love you. I’m here.”

“I love you too.” You said taking in his warmth and breathing in his strong scent. It was comforting, he was comforting. The fact that your husband was safe and with you was grounding. “What time is it?”

Bill squinted as he looked at his watch, “That time.” You sighed, not ready to face today. “I can get-.”

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sydney yelling for you in her room. “(Y/N)! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Her voice grew closer as did the sound of little fast footsteps. Your heart felt a little lighter as the excitement in her voice filled the negative dread that strangled you. Before you knew it the bedroom door had flung open and a little dark haired brown eyed girl crawled her way up your bed.

You pulled yourself up and pried yourself away from Bill’s warm embrace. You opened your arms and Sydney was quick to find her way to your chest. “Well, good morning.” You said trapping her into a big hug, “Someone’s excited about a field trip!” You said in a sing-song voice as you rocked her side to side.

“Really? A field trip?” Bill teased, pretending he had no recollection of the trip to the zoo that Sydney brought up about every five minutes.

“Yes! I told you a bunch.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember, you’re going to the mines. About time they put your kids to work.” You chuckled before kissing Sydney on the cheek.

“No! Bill, the zoo! I’m going to the zoo!” Sydney tried not to pout as she argued with her other foster parent.

“What could possibly be at the zoo?” Bill scoffed as he scratched his head.

“Animals. All sorts, too. Tigers! I’ll be able to see a real life tiger. Right, (Y/N)?”

“Well that depends on if we get up, and moving, and get dressed.” You said letting go of Sydney, “So why don’t you go get changed into the clothes I laid out for you last night and I’ll meet you in your bathroom to brush your teeth. What’d you say?”

“Okay.” Sydney began to crawl out of the bed excitedly and head towards the door before stopping, “I’m wearing the shirt with the tiger on it, right? That’s the one I picked.”

“Yes, the one with the tiger on it. You better hurry, we don’t want to be late.”

“Right.” She sent a determined little nod your way before taking off.

The room returned to silence as you got out of bed and went to pull the curtains open, allowing the natural light to flood the room. It was warm and inviting regardless of whether you mentally shunned it.

“I’ll drop her off today.” Bill volunteered as he got up, “No protest, it’s on my way and you need to take it easy.”

“I can handle a couple nightmares. I’ll be alright.” You sighed as you walked into the bathroom. Picking up your toothbrush and turning the handle as water began to come spouting out of the faucet.

“I know you can, I’d just prefer if you took it easy, rest, start to come to terms with whatever has been haunting you.” Bill married you for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, the good, the bad, and the ugly. He knew your story as you knew his; and he still loved you. You still loved him. Rather it be your childhood or your past with the DSO, he was there. “I’m concerned. This is the fourth time this week and it’s only Wednesday.” He followed you into the bathroom and leaned against the doorway. His arms crossed and brows furrowed, his body language conveying the weight of his words.

You spit into the sink, wiped your mouth, and then faced him. He was right, the sooner you faced it the sooner you could move on. You were just frustrated because you had made such big steps lately and now it felt like you were walking backwards again. You sighed, “I’ll give Ingrid a call, okay?”

“Then when I get home we can talk about it.” He raised his brows as his gaze softened.

“Yeah. We’ll talk about it.” You walked back over to him with a smile and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Please don’t worry too much. I’m okay.” You gently placed a little loving kiss on his arm, “Don’t be so dramatic, Billy.” You practically sung the version of his name, trying to get him to lighten up.

William, otherwise known as Bill or Billy, was born in California and was raised there. Bill had a hard life and was also taken advantage of by something that no one could’ve controlled, it was a miracle he made it out alive. Eventually he packed up and got the hell out of dodge with no place in particular in mind; he just wanted to get away. He didn’t plan a single detail so crossing your path wasn’t a surprise, but staying on your path was. The life that he currently had wasn’t something he had ever pictured nor was it something he thought he deserved. Nevertheless, he was willing to do anything to keep it.

He rolled his eyes as he unfolded his arms and wrapped them around you, “Shut up.” He leaned down so his lips could meet yours. You kissed him back as your arms snaked their way up his torso and around his neck while his hands held your hips. As you kissed him back the world around you started to fade ever so slightly, helping you push the nightmare in the back of your head into a room.

“Yuck!” Sydney said breaking you away from him.

“Yuck! Yuck?” Bill said in a false sense of disbelief. “I happen to let you know that (Y/N) doesn’t find me ‘yuck’ at all. Right, (Y/N)?” You were silent as you looked from Sydney to Bill, “Right?”

“Your morning breath is a little yucky.” Bill placed a hand over his heart as if he were wounded, “but only a little bit. I still love you.” Bill sniffed, “You mean it?”

You kissed his left cheek, “I love you.” You kissed his right cheek, “I love you.” And finally you kissed his lips, “I love you.”

“Gross.” Sydney made a disgusted face and Bill mocked her.

“Speaking of, let’s get your teeth brushed. Come on.” You let go of Bill and went to guide Sydney to her bathroom. You flashed Bill a smile as you left, placing a hand on the seven year old’s back.

Sydney Lomis was put into the foster care system at the age of four. Her parents dealt substances from Maruianja to Crystal and probably beyond to the surrounding communities. Neglecting their only daughter up to their deaths, what all that Sydney had truly been through was unknown for the most part. She went to therapy at least once a week and for the most part her life was truly starting to begin. She’s lived with you and Bill for two years and slowly but surely you were on track to adopt Sydney.

Walking into the bathroom you gesture for her to get on the stool in front of the sink. You recently had moved her into her own bathroom due to her positive reaction to sleeping in her own room. You grabbed her toothbrush as she turned on the water.

“I hate this.” She mumbled as you wet the bristles and put the bubblegum flavored toothpaste on the brush.

“I know. I hated brushing my teeth at your age too. Open wide.” You started to brush her teeth and hummed as you did so, moving your body slightly to dance to the song. Trying to make the experience somewhat enjoyable. Sydney joined in shortly, “Alrighty, spit.” You grabbed a towel as she did so and wiped her face after she was done. “You hungry?” You asked her as your hands found your hips. She nodded and you smiled, “Thought so, let’s go make some breakfast.”

As you both walked out of the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen Sydney started to go on a tangent about all the things she planned to do today and how she was so excited to finally see a real life tiger. Meanwhile you were only half listening to her while you focused on a tag sticking out from her shirt.

As she climbed into her seat she continued describing every little detail she knew about tigers. Their life span, on average how many strips they had, the fact that they were good swimmers. You grabbed the scissors, “You’ve got a runaway tag sweetheart, is it bothering you?”

“No.” Sydney said as she reached for the back of her neck where her shirt rested.

“Are you sure?” She was lying and you knew it.

“Yes.” You tried to bite back a sigh as you placed the scissors back in the drawer. You walked over to her and tucked the tag back into her shirt.

“Alright, sweetheart.” You kissed the top of her head, “If it bugs you be sure to let the teacher know, okay?” You started to take her hair out of the braid you put in the night before as you scanned the room for a brush. You had what felt like a million of them hidden throughout the house, you just had to find it.

“Okay, but tigers can roar so loud that they can be heard from a mile away…” She continued and as you smiled slightly, finding a brush on the breakfast bar. As you ran the brush through her hair you tried to focus on what she was saying and not the randomly highlighted parts of your nightmare. Like the sight of her lifeless, cold, unforgiving body in your arms while you pleaded for them to fix it and take you instead.

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?” Sydney said pulling you back as you stopped brushing her hair.

“Mhm?” You moaned.

“If I name a tiger after you?” Your heart nearly shattered into a million pieces as she said it.

“Me?” You asked as you turned to look her in the eyes.

“Yeah.” She looked a little embarrassed, but you just wrapped your arms around her.

“I would be honored if you named a tiger after me.” Sydney didn’t call you mom even though you told her it would be okay. You figured she would come around when she was comfortable and that’s all you wanted, for her to be comfortable. “Toaster strudel for breakfast? Strawberry or blueberry?” You said as you let go of her headed for the fridge.

“Strawberry.” She said in a defiant tone.

“Good choice.” You smiled as you went to get her breakfast ready.

“What’d I miss?” Bill said, walking into the kitchen, ready for work. Truth be told he didn’t need a job, neither of you did. You were able to retire more than comfortably at your young age. But, you guess it was best to have busy hands and extra cash.

“Strawberry toaster strudels for breakfast.”

“Works for me. I’m going to drop you off at school today, Sid.” He said as he ruffled her just brushed head of hair. “Maybe we’ll take the scenic route, get there late, huh?”

“He’s kidding.” You said as you carefully pulled the pastries from the toaster oven.

“Am I?” He said as he stuck his tongue out.

“You are.” You said setting the plates down and putting icing on Sydney’s while you threw his packet to him.

They ate while you watched with a slight smile. Feeling warm as you basked in their presence.

“Alright, Sid. Are you ready?” Bill asked as he got up from the chair. She didn’t even nod, just got up and grabbed her back pack. “Alright then.” He mumbled as you turned to grab her lunch out of the fridge.

“Make sure she doesn’t forget this and slip her a couple twenties for the gift shop, okay.” You told Bill and handed him the pail.

“Of course.” He came to meet you on the other side of the breakfast bar. His arms wrapped around your waist as he went to kiss your temple, “Call Ingrid, relax, and I’ll be home before you know it.” You nodded before you pecked a little kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go.” Sydney’s voice cut its way between the two of you and you chuckled slightly.

“Jesus, kid, I’m coming. Am I not allowed to kiss my own wife goodbye?” Sydney didn’t listen though as you heard the door open. “She doesn’t care.”

“Why would she?” You kissed his cheek as you ushered him to go after her. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will.” He let go of you and went after Sydney. “Wait up, kid! What did we tell you about running off without one of us?” He was still worried and he thought about calling out of work for the day, but knew if he did you’d just continue to dance around the subject.

You let out a deep breath as you headed to the door to lock it and continue with the day.

For the most part you did relax after cleaning up the kitchen. You took a long bath, did some laundry, and read a couple chapters in some random book you found. But you hadn’t picked up the phone, in fact you tried your best to not even look at it.

You usually wouldn’t hesitate to call Ingrid. You two worked close together at the DSO and had become the best of friends. Often you would meet up with her once every couple of months, but talked to her on the phone regularly. She kept you up to date on the DSO drama and you told her the petty bickering you got into at the farmers market.

But you knew it was different. You had this gut feeling that when you called she wouldn’t answer and if you were lucky she would call you back in three weeks time. Any later and you knew what that meant. You feared what it meant. So with a deep breath you picked up the phone and called her. The phone rang as you tried to keep yourself from panicking. It’s alright, you had to remind yourself. Nightmares have no precedence in the real world. You just needed to breathe.

“Hey, (Y/N)! I was just thinking about you.” Her voice seemed cheerful enough, but you knew something was off. Was it a real danger? Probably not, it sounded more like awkward timing.

“Hunnigan, you got a minute?” You asked before fidgeting with your nails.

“No, I’ll-.” She hesitated, unsure if the news she was about to share was even worth your time.

“Hunnigan.” Your tone was firm as that feeling in your gut grew. “What’s going on? Are you ok-?”

“Have you seen Leon?” She just asked you flat out. You blinked in confusion. Leon? Leon Scott Kennedy? The agent that broke your heart? The agent you gave everything up for?

“No.” Hunnigan knew that and truthfully her relationship with Leon hasn’t been the same since. But her agent was MIA and she was running out of places to look. “He died last night.” You said and then quickly followed up on, “In my nightmare. Haven’t actually seen him since my retirement party almost four years ago.”

“He’s been MIA for nearly three days. This isn’t like him and I think-.” She stopped, “I don’t know what I think.”

“I think he’s a damn idiot.”

“So you think he’s okay?”

“He’s Leon fucking Kennedy, if you haven’t found his body he’s alive. That’s what matters.” Your heart rate grew as every single feeling you had felt today turned into rage.

“Calm down, it was a real bad night, huh?”

“You have no idea. We can talk about it later, just forget it for now.”

“Noted.” She said and as silence filled the void between the two she really started to feel for you.

“Ingrid, as soon as you find Leon let me know.”

“Noted. Be careful.” She said before she hung up. You let out a deep sigh as the anxiety took hold of your main focus was protecting the people in this house. You were retired, but that didn’t mean safe.

If Leon was missing it was bad news no matter how you flipped the coin. Leon’s smart and if he had an inkling that something was rotten there he tried to fix it, if it was too rotten? Leon would simply run and try to beat them at their own game. No corporation is ever truly innocent. If it had nothing to do with the DSO then he was in deep shit and was either running or dead. And Leon Kennedy never just fucking dies.

You made your way down into the basement and to the gun safe. In all honesty you were not pro-gun, but being an ex agent, you have a couple for your protection. Your husband’s protection, your daughter’s protection. That being said, you didn’t have an arsenal, just a shotgun and a standard pistol. Nothing fancy.

You grabbed the pistol and headed back up to the living room. You locked the basement door behind you and as you went for the phone to call Bill you noticed the window by the couch opened enough for a body to fit through. You were quick to the window and locked it. You weren’t in the basement long enough for more than one person to get in. You held the gun outwards, ready to shoot.

Carefully you walked forwards, examining as much as the room as quickly as possible. No sign of boot marks imprinted into the carpet or a hint of mud, blood, or the rest on any of the surfaces in your home. Slowly and carefully you pressed onward into the direction you assumed this intruder walked in. Trust your gut, you should’ve trusted your gut. You scold yourself as your palms grew sweaty and your breathing got harder to control. They could be in danger. They could be dead? It was never a nightmare. Your mind started to swim in circles as you started to lose your caution.

So lost in the downward spiral of depression you didn’t notice a hand quickly and harshly grab the same hand that you held the gun in, causing the gun to go flying out of your hand and down the hall. It brought you back and it brought you back fast as you went to swing your other arm in the direction of what you calculated to be your intruder's face. Quickly though he caught your hand as you saw your intruder's face as you tried to yank your other hand free.

“Leon?” You nearly shouted at him in utter anger. The confrontation turned as his grip on you tightened.

He couldn’t help but to smile when he saw you, “You’ve grown soft.” He teased before you yanked your arms out of his grip.

“What are you doing here? Are you insane?” You on the other hand didn’t meet Leon’s joy. You were furious, “Hunnagain is looking for you! Do you have any idea how worried she is? How worried she made me! Then you show up here, my house! My family’s house! What is wrong with you?”

“Look, I know.” Leon started as he raised his hands. Leon felt incredibly bad and he knew you didn’t want a thing to do with him after what he did. He wanted you happy, you deserved happiness. “I’m-.”

“No! I don’t think you do! You have just put-.”

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He cut you off and you just stared at him blankly. Unsure of what to do or what to say. “I’m sorry. I understand what I’ve done and I understand that nothing will make up for it. Trust me if I could’ve stayed out of your life I would.” You shot an icy stare at him, that came out wrong. He took a deep breath, “(Y/N). Please.”

He begged you. As you closed your eyes and took in a frustrated deep breath. You cursed him before your eyes connected with that ocean that you have always drowned in.

“Alright, how can I help?” You gave in to him so easily.

“Just. Let me buy some time.”

“How long?”

“As long as you’ll let me.” Which meant anywhere from four to twenty-four hours.

“Swear to me that if this goes south you save Sydney and you never look back.”

“I swear to you.” Leon said, giving you his word. It was bittersweet seeing you like this, ready to throw it all on the line for your family. To see how far you have come, something he wanted, something he could have had.

“You better.” You nodded, after everything you still trusted Leon. You always would. “Where are you hurt?” You asked as you went to his side. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “We both know if you weren’t you would’ve easily had me in any position on the floor if you weren’t hurt.”

His face quickly heated as he slightly leaned against you and chuckled, “You’re still into that?”

Your eyes widened briefly as your face turned a deep red fast, “You better shut your mouth before I kick you back out on your ass.” You helped him into the kitchen and sat him in a chair and finally examined all of him.

He was just as handsome as ever even though he was obviously tired. There was a sizable gash near his abdomen that led up towards the back of his ribs. You cursed slightly under your breath as you grabbed a kitchen towel, “Jesus Christ, who did this to you?” Your eyes left the wound and met his. Leon couldn’t help his heart skipping a beat or the way you still looked at him with the utmost love. It didn’t last long though as your eyes left him to focus on his holster.

“I’m not sure.” He admitted holding his arms up so you could undo it, “Yet. I have an idea.” Giving you something to chew on, but not anywhere near an answer. After setting the holster carefully on the counter you went for the hem of his shirt. Carefully you started pulling the shirt up and off and then disregarding it in the sink.

“Stay put.” You warned as you went back towards your room to retrieve the first aid kit you had.

“No problem.” Leon mumbled as he started to relax for the first time in days. He let out a soft grunt as he rolled his head back, shutting his eyes momentarily. Sleep sounded more than fantastic and if allowed himself to be would’ve started drifting off right there, but he knew better. As he opened his eyes he started examining your house. A simple little house that wasn’t too flashy, but with your sense of decor it really shined. It was warm, homey, and inviting.

Changing directions he focused on the kitchen. A kid's drawing of a tiger held to the refrigerator with three alphabet magnets. A Viva Las Vegas magnet made to look like it was shining held up a picture of a stick figure family with their respective names above each one. The small green one with the Sydney written above it in a matching colored crayon with a backwards ‘S’. Leon knew of Sydney, in fact he knew a awful lot about her. Just because he wasn’t in your life anymore didn’t mean a thing. He put together pieces whenever Ingrid talked about you and he has done his fair share of snooping through the years.

An actual photograph caught his eye next; a photo of you, Ingrid, and Bill in front of the eiffel tower. You hold the camera unaware of how Bill’s gaze was locked on you in admiration or how you had no idea he was going to ask you to marry him right after the photo. Leon’s jaw tightened as he turned his attention back to the living room.

“Okay, so by the looks of it the wound doesn’t look deep enough to need any stitches, but infection is an immediate threat.” Your voice breaks the tension that Leon had created for himself. “So, that means with some cream and bandages this should practically be painless.” You got on your knees in front of him putting the first aid kit on the ground. You began treating it carefully, “Although I am no doctor, so please try and protect the area as much as possible.”

Leon scoffed before looking down at you. Your body is slightly stiff as your movements remain slow and gentle. His gaze softened as he watched you pick up the alcohol and a washcloth. Carefully you held the washcloth under his wound before meeting his gaze, telling him exactly what was next. Leon just nodded and you pushed forward slowly pouring the liquid onto the wound. He snarled lightly and shut his eyes momentarily; alcohol on an open wound, a sting he would never get used too.

“You’re okay.” You say with a little smile, teasing him slightly. He rolls his eyes and the room falls into silence.

He wanted to know what you were thinking. He wanted to know what you were feeling. He wanted to know what your next move was. He wanted to know if you felt little sparks run up your spine whenever you just barely touched him. Did your stomach flip when he looked at you? Did you still hate him?

“So, is it rotten?” You asked not to look at him and continued to take care of him.

“It is looking that way.”

You sighed before reaching his gaze, “Right. Do you have a plan?” You begin to bandage him up as he adjusts himself to let you work.

“It’s in the works.” It was rough to admit, but it was better than saying nothing. You tsk as you finish and stand up taking the first aid kit with you. “Right now I just have to lay low until I can meet Chris and get it settled.”

“What about Ingrid?” Worry laced in each word.

“Huningan is fine and will be kept safe.” He assured you. You just nod before fishing his shirt out of the sink and pitching it.

You head back to your room, “Feel free to move to the couch, I’m going to go get you a shirt before someone gets the wrong idea.”

He chuckles before standing and pushing in the chair. As he takes a seat on the couch he notices a framed picture of you and Bill at the altar. His arms wrapped around your waist holding you closely to him and your arms wrapped around his neck as you planted a kiss on his cheek. Leon was there that day, you didn’t know it. He snuck his way in and watched the ceremony. Listened to your vows. He even got absolutely hammered at the reception.

You walked back into the room with a clean shirt; along with a pillow and blanket under your arm, “You can stay here for the night. When Bill gets home I’ll whip something up quickly for dinner and we will take Sydney-.”

“Do you love him?” He cut you off as his eyes locked with yours. The question took you aback. Leon’s gaze became uncomfortable with each passing millisecond.

“I do.” You answer, “I do very much.” You answer him. Leon’s face fell even more, it was stupid to hope for anything different; but he selfishly did.

“He doesn’t treat you badly, does he?” He doesn’t, Leon knows. If Leon knew that Bill wasn’t any good he would’ve gotten rid of him long ago.

“He doesn’t, never has.” You started to get angry with Leon as it came out short, “Here.” You handed him the shirt and went to put the blanket and pillow on the couch.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized quickly and softly, “I just have to make sure you’re happy.”

“My happiness is none of your concern.” There it was, his damn question was answered. You still hated him. “As I was saying, Bill and I will take Sydney to our cabin. I’ll leave them there and meet you wherever is next.”

“What? No.” He took a step closer to you, “You are not meeting me anywhere. You’re retired.” His tone was firm, he had already put you in enough danger by just being here.

“You will not tell me what I will do. You need as many hands as possible.”

“Not yours.” He stated through gritted teeth, “You have a daughter to protect.”

“And I am protecting her!” You screamed at him. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring up Sydney, “I am getting her out of dodge! I am getting my husband out of here! If the DSO is fucked it’s only a matter of time the world is! I will be damned if my daughter doesn’t get to know a normal world, so I am going to help you fix this and then she is going to live the best damn life I can give her!”

“You can’t give her that if you’re not here!”

You scoffed, “You can not yell at me about this!” He had no right to get you tied up in this in the first place.

“I can and I will! You are staying-!” He was cut off as the front door started to creek open. Leon was quick to grab your once disregarded handgun from the floor where you dropped it. He was quick on his feet as his frame blocked yours from the doorway. “Do. Not. Move.” He instructed you quietly.

“I just don’t understand why the obvious choice-.” You heard Bill’s voice.

“Stand down.” You put a hand gently on Leon’s back. “Please. I don’t want her to see this. This is her home.” You pleaded as your other hand met his elbow. Your touch was so warm and you were so close, how could you still handle him like this? He lowered the gun as his gaze met yours. His gaze made your knees weak, after everything you were still such a sucker, “Thank you.” He studied your face, you had aged but still were just as beautiful as the day he first laid his eyes on you.

“What’s going on?” Bill asked, cutting through what felt like hours of eye contact. His hand covered Sydney’s eyes as you pulled yourself away from Leon’s side and over to your husband and daughter. Leon set the gun down on the coffee table before going to put on the shirt you got him.

“Relax.” Leon said as he saw you pick up Sydney and lean against Bill, “Nothing is going on.”

“We gotta move though. A trip to the cabin?” Your eyes met Bill’s telling him the next course of action. “Just a fun little vacation.” You said looking at Sydney, “How’s that sound, hun?”

“I have school.” Sydney went to defend cautiously, glancing at Leon. He sent her a small smile with a tiny wave.

“I know, sweetheart. Something has popped up and I have to help that knucklehead over there.”

“Knucklehead?” Sydney laughed, “He’s a knucklehead?”

“The biggest.” Leon smiled warmly, “Although I prefer to go by my name. My name’s Leon.” Leon moved over cautiously as he held out his hand to shake hers, “What’s yours?”

“Sydney.” She said, taking his hand cautiously, “Bill calls me Sid and (Y/N) calls me sweetheart.”

“Sydney? What a great name, well it’s my pleasure to meet you, Sydney.” He said gently as he shook her hand.

“Let’s go get you packed real quick? You can tell me all about the zoo as well.”

“Oh!” Sydney remarked remembering what she wanted to tell you as she let go of Leon’s big hand, “I named a tiger after you, I did!”

“You did? Tell me all about it.” You nodded slightly at Leon as you left for Sydney’s room. Leon watched you walk away and for a minute daydreamed that he was standing in Bill’s place and not his own.

“She was supposed to call Ingrid.” Bill’s voice cut through it though, “What are you doing here?”

Leon defended himself, “I had nowhere else to turn. It was a last resort.”

“Right.” Bill scoffed, “Whatever brings you here, I want you out.”

“Why’d she have to call Ingrid for? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Bill said through gritted teeth.

“You have given me reason to believe otherwise.” Leon started, glaring at Bill, “Look, I’m going to be hitting the road soon anyway. (Y/N)’s plan is to take you and Sydney up to your cabin up north and leave you and Sydney there and meet me-.”

“Not happening.” Bill cut him off returning the daggers that Leon had sent him.

“She’s not meeting me anywhere and I’m leaving it up to you to make sure she doesn’t. Keep her there, keep her safe. I’ll be there to retrieve you all when this is dead and buried.” Leon said as he went to grab his holster.

“She didn’t just give you the location of the cabin and I’m not either.” Bill furrowed his brows as he crossed his arms.

Leon couldn’t help but to chuckle, “No need. I’m a DSO agent, if there is something I want to know I will find it.” As he fastened the straps he added, “Same goes for if I want to hide something. I hide it.”

“How long have you been watching?” Bill knew exactly what Leon was on to and it infuriated him to no end. Bill loved you and knew that he wouldn’t be able to piece himself back together if you left with Leon. Leon was his greatest fear.

“Long enough.” Since the beginning of the end. Leon watched you break at the altar that he couldn’t walk down. Leon watched you retire from the DSO shortly after. Leon watched you begin a normal life. Leon watched you date crummy person after crummy person until you met Bill. He watched it all. “After this I’ll make sure that adoption paperwork gets pushed through.”

“Okay, I think you’re all set.” You said walking into the kitchen and setting Sydney’s bags on the breakfast bar, Sydney right on your tail.

“There was a baby tiger too, I named her after me. Even though she had an official name, I didn’t like it.” She rambled as you picked her up and sat her in a chair.

“Stop for a minute, okay? I need to tell you something very important. Can you listen to me very carefully for a minute?” Sydney nodded and you smiled warmly, “Good.” You pointed to Leon, “See even though you just met Leon, I have known him for a very very long time.”

“How long?”

“Way before you were even born.”

“Before me?”

You nodded, “So I can say that I trust Leon very much. So much so that I trust him with you.” You continue to break his heart and break Bill’s along with it.

“I just met him, though. He’s like a stranger. You said stranger danger.”

“That is true, but this time is very different.”

“Why?” She questioned and your heart shattered. Peering into her big innocent eyes as you had to figure out how to re-teach every lesson you had taught her.

“Because something has happened and there is nothing I, or Bill, or Leon could’ve stopped. So right now we have to do our best to trust.” You tried not to cry as you felt so much love for this little girl that it hurt to try and explain how rotten things could get. “So Bill and I are going to take you on a little vacation and we are going to try our best to wait all of it out. But if something happens to me, or Bill, I want you to go to Leon and never look back. He will take care of you.” Your eyes left Sydney’s and found Leon’s, “He swore to me that he would take care of you.” Sydney turned in her chair and looked at Leon, “Right, Leon?”

“Right.” You sniffed and looked back to Sydney.

“See?”

“But, why would I have to-?”

“I don’t know. Things just happen sometimes, sweetheart.” Bill’s brows furrowed as he shut his eyes. He didn’t need to hear this. Sydney didn’t need to hear this. So he left the kitchen. Your eyes followed him as you stood and just as you went to call after him Sydney spoke.

“Mom?” She asked, fear evident in her voice. “Where is dad going?” Your heart broke as you stifled a sob and looked back at her.

“To pack. We’ve gotta get moving soon, honey.” You managed to get out while biting back a sob. Leon’s blood boiled as he approached you and Sydney.

“Go get packed, I’ll watch her.” Leon said and you nodded.

“I’ll be back sweetheart. Just sit tight with Leon. Get to know him a little more so you can trust him like I do, okay?” Sydney grabbed the hem of your shirt, “I will be right back, I promise.” You kissed her forehead as she let go of you and you headed for the bedroom after Bill.

“So tigers, huh?” Leon asked, trying to lighten the mood, “Don’t they have like a million stripes?”

“They only have a hundred, which is still a big number.” Sydney corrected him as her attention shifted from the empty hallway and to Leon.

“Really? I’m intrigued, tell me more.” Leon smiled as he leaned against the breakfast bar.

“What is wrong with you? Running off like that?” You try not to yell as you shut the door behind you.

“Wrong with me? You have got to be joking?” Bill was appalled by the fact that now you wanted to fight with him.

“Yes, what is wrong with you? You could’ve said something; helped me explain, or at least backed me up, that’s what parenthood is!”

“Explain to a seven year old that her mother is running off with her ex-lover to save the world and probably die in the process! Her second mother with a bullet in between her eyes! Is that what you wanted me to tell her while you told her that you trusted a man who hasn’t been in your life since he left you at the altar! Are you fucking nuts?” Bill boiled over the edge and you just threw your arms in the air and went rummaging through drawers.

“We are not arguing right now! We most certainly aren’t arguing over this!” You threw various articles of clothing onto the bed in a fit of rage as you continued to bite back tears.

“Why not? Does the topic of him make you uncomfortable? Make you freeze up? Because it makes me! You left this life behind and he saunters in here and all of sudden this responsibility is thrust upon you- and regardless of everything that you have- you are going to go running to take care of it!”

You slammed the drawer shut and faced Bill, “He had nowhere else to go! I wasn’t going to turn him away!” You finally gave as tears streamed down your face.

“Wasn’t or couldn’t?” Was all Bill asked as he looked you dead in the eyes. The eyes he peered into this morning with so much love that he was convinced that nothing would ever separate the two of you. With doubt he carefully pressed forward, “Do you still love him?”

“I love you!” You yelled at him.

“That’s not what I asked and you know it.” You scoffed as you walked past him and into the closet to grab a suitcase.

“Well that’s your answer.” You said cruelly as you made your way back into your room and through the suitcase on the bed. Bill’s heart shattered as he finally let himself begin to cry. Anger coursed through his blood stream as he hit the side of the door before going into the closet and grabbing some clothes off of the hangers.

After unzipping the suitcase and throwing clothes into it you went and reached under the bed for the small safe you had with all of your medical records, social security cards, fake IDs, and a small handgun. Taking out the gun you put it in the waistband of your pants and put the documents into the suitcase.

Bill came back into your room and put a collection of yours and his clothes into the suitcase.

“You’re staying with us in the cabin. We already decided.” Bill got out behind tightly closed lips.

“No, I have to help him finish-.”

“No, you have to keep your daughter safe. He knows where the cabin is, and said he’d find us when it was all done.”

“I don’t care what he says-.”

“Do you care what I say?” He cut you off and stared you down with a fire of a thousand suns. This rage you haven’t ever seen in Bill and it caused you to freeze.

“Yes.” You admitted softly as you stepped back from the situation and your hand found his.

He softened and sniffed, “Then stay. Please. Stay with me.” Tears fell down his face as your other hand cupped his face.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay.” His hand found yours as he gripped it tightly and kissed your palm.

“Promise?” He asked, he begged.

“Promise.” You brought your lips to his and kissed him gently. As his arms wrapped around you and deepened the kiss he couldn’t bring himself to call your bluff. He just wanted to savor you against him for as long as he could. You pulled away from him, “We have to go.”

“I know.” He said and you zipped up the suitcase. You both dried your eyes and you sniffed. He picked up the suitcase and you both left the bedroom and met Sydney and Leon in the kitchen. Sydney was laughing as you gazed over to Leon with a sad little smile.

“Looks like you’re ready to go.” Leon started, returning your sad smile.

“Are you ready, Sid?” Bill asked as he took her hand.

“Yep! I’m ready.” Sydney said, getting down from the chair still holding Bill’s hand.

“Leon, you take Bill’s car and we will take mine.” You instructed as you grabbed the keys that hung by the door. “Don’t worry, it’s fully covered so when you wreck it don’t feel too bad.” You joked, handing the keys to Leon.

“Thanks.” He chuckled, “For everything.” You nodded.

“You’re welcome.” Bill said glaring at Leon while he led Sydney out of the house and to the car.

You sighed, “You’re welcome.” You both stared at each other in silence. Sharing something that shouldn't be. Regret? Anger? Love?

“Motherhood looks good on you.” He said, unsure of what to say, just knowing he still wanted to talk to you.

“I think so too.” Guilt shooting up your spine as soon as you recognized it that you wished that you would have grown into it with him. “Leon,-.” You started and then stopped. “Please be careful. I don’t want to live my life knowing that you aren’t out there.”

Leon took in a sad breath, before plastering on a smile, “I’ll notify you as soon as this is done.” You returned his smile and headed towards the door and to the car. Your family was waiting on you and time was starting to tick.

As Leon heard the car start and back out of the driveway he waited until he could no longer hear the subtle rumbling of the engine to confess, “I still love you.”

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theoceanoasis · 6 days

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Ohhhh Mermay is here! Can we get 12: Song? Pretty captive mermay Hot Rod sadly singing for Soundwave?

He laid curled up at the bottom of the tank shivering and looking miserable as he hid in the farthest corner away from his captives. Tears fell as he remembered his life before he was taken.

He'd been out gathered seaweed with some of his friends when the humans had attacked. He'd tried fighting them off and ended up captured. He could still remember Soundwave's face as he was taken away.

His mate promising to find him. However he didn't think that was possible. Not when he was being shipped to Sentinel where he'd be put on display. The evil man admiring his beauty as he bragged about showing him off.

He sobbed hiding his face and wishing Soundwave was there. He was so alone. Trapped in this empty box with nothing. Not even a few materials to make a nest.

His tail throbbed painfully from when he'd been captured and he curled it closer.

He found himself singing. Calling for his mate except it sounded sad. Usually when he called Soundwave it was happy and full of love as he confessed how much he loved him. Now however he called for him in pain wishing he was there and wanting to be free. Afraid he'd never see him again.

He kept singing tears falling down his face until one of his captors hit his tank giving him a headache as he jerked towards them. He was surprised to see they were crying.

"Stop singing your making the crew sad and we can't have that."

"Yeah, if you don't stop we're going to punish you and you won't like that."

He shivered and immediately stopped singing. Turning away from them he waited for them to leave.

"Such a pretty thing. Too bad he's acting like a brat."

"I'm sure once Sentinel gets his hands on him he'll learn quickly."

Both mechs looked at each other and laughed. Before leaving him alone. He curled closer already imagining the horrible things this Sentinel person was going to do to him. He felt tears fall and he let out a sad wail. Singing out his pain to the world around him uncaring if it made the humans sad. If they didn't want to deal with that they shouldn't have captured him.

Suddenly he felt a sharp jerk coming from the boat and he paused. Looking around anxiously he felt the boat jerk again and then people were frantically talking. Scared and confused he wondered if they were being attacked by other pirates. Every jolt of the ship caused him to hit the side of his tank. Which made his tail throb painfully.

The shouting got louder and he panicked slightly. Pushing against his prison he tried to break it or at least open the door and free himself. He knew he wouldn't get far, but maybe if they were distracted and he could find a way to the ocean.

He paused what he was doing and tilted his head back listening as he heard something familiar. It took him a moment to realize what it was and his eyes widened when he realized it was Soundwave.

Excited he pushed against the box again ignoring the pain in his tail because it won't be long now. Soundwave had come for him. He heard his song.

#soundrod #transformers #soundwave #hot rod #transformers cyberverse #rodimus #hot rod x soundwave #cyberverse soundwave

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dollarbin · 4 months

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Shakey Sundays #6:

Neil Young and Promise of the Real's The Monsanto Years

Somehow this album is cursed in my biography. Every time I try to listen to it something goes deeply wrong. And it's no wonder: in the silly recording session photo above it looks like Neil is casting an evil spell on all of us. Monsanticus!

When the record came out in in the summer of 2015 I was suspicious; Neil had just released Storytone, and it sounded like he'd focused on painting the record's cover and washing his hogs rather than writing good songs. Plus I'd never even heard of his new backing band with their too terrible to be ironic name. Crazy Horse was alive and well; what was Young up to now?

But 20 years previously I'd been equally suspicious when Young got spooked by the Horse and buddied up with a different group of young hipsters to make Mirror Ball, and that record turned out to be awesome. And so I knew The Montsanto Years deserved my open-mindedness in spite of its clunky title and fairly gross cover art.

So I turned it up loud for the first time with my buddy Matt. It was a beautiful day and we had an open road with two hours of drive time ahead of us. Maybe we'd listen to it twice!

But halfway through the album's third song, People Want to Hear About Love, with its inspired-by-Stephen-Still's-very-own-Joe-Lala bongos, and its gather about me young squires chanting, not to mention Young's crankiest grandpa vocal stylings to date, Matt and I simultaneously announced that the song sucked. We put on Zuma instead.

Even so, People Want To Hear About Love, stayed annoyingly in my head all day, and that day was dedicated to attending our friend's younger sister's funeral. I couldn't shake crusty grandpa Neil off at the graveside as my friend's 20-something little sister was lowered into the earth, her life cut short by cancer that came with touches of abhorrent irony: she'd been a nurse; her dad was a cancer doctor. You're wrong Neil, I angrily thought, no one wants to hear about love. Nor do they ever want to hear your song again.

I've given the record sporadic second chances since then. And every time I get to the fourth track, Big Box, I perk up. After all, it opens with Neil alone, playing a demonstrative and churning, here's how it works kids, follow my lead, riff that sounds like it's lifted straight from Mirror Ball.

youtube

But before you know it Neil croons "Too Big To Fail" in overdubbed fashion and rhymes "excited" with "Citizens United" (you know, the Supreme Court case that gave corporations the power to essentially buy our elections) and, despite some pretty exciting guitar interplay whenever Young shuts his trap, rather than echoing Mirror Ball the whole thing sounds like Young is hanging out with Kai Ryssdal or David Brancaccio on Marketplace. Come on Neil, that's my least favorite show on NPR.

Yesterday I gave the record yet another try: but again, no dice; my 15 year old ipod (no, I don't own The Monsanto Years on vinyl; I got it in true Dollar Bin fashion by checking it out at the library) played me the first two songs, the lyrically regrettable opening track, which isn't amazing but does not suck, and the pretty lovely, quavering Wolf Moon, before the device (it's the kind with a dial on the lower half; there are 22 thousand songs on the thing, and around 1600 of them are Young's), perhaps disgusted by my choice for this week's Shakey Sunday, cried uncle and died in what appeared to be the very real Steve Jobs kinda fashion.

I was able to resuscitate it eventually but I'm unsure whether or not to risk resumption of the album. After all, it's cursed! And when the terrible day comes, and my ipod refuses to wake back up no matter how many times I pressed down all the buttons at once while cursing, will I need to find another way, either through a very nonDollar Bin purchase of the vinyl or through Neil's old timey, betamax website, to listen to The Monsanto Years ever again? Or can I just stick with Zuma?

Well, let's find out the answer. It's a Shakey Sunday and I'm about to roll my ipod's dice, press play, and go song by song through the rest of Neil's far too long screed against agrobusiness.

The fifth song, A Rock Star Bucks a Coffee Shop, is a big No vote for the record. Yikes. I'd rather drink a big cuppa GMO than hear Young rhyme GMO with Mont-san-to ever again. Whoever is responsible for the whistling in this song needs to never purse their lips in my presence again.

I suspect POTR (I refuse to ever type the band's terrible name out again; I wish they'd named themselves Promise of the Real Sausages instead) are big fans of Young's live bender record Time Fades Away. Working Man's got that vibe but it's slick instead of shakey. Yuck.

In Rules of Change Neil gives us yet another version of the story he's been telling over and over again for the whole record: the farmers have woes; climate change is real; we're doomed unless we get on Uncle Neil's groovy train of love. Look: I'm an environmentalist already. I do what I can to eat sustainably; I ride my bike to work alongside my sweet daughter as much as possible; and I've got a bootleg gray water system already running out the back of my house as we speak, watering my trees with our laundry water. The simple truth is that I never needed this concept album, or any of Young's too numerous to count environmental anthems. I already know this stuff. I'm already angry and I already vote and if Trump gets elected next fall I'll lose my mind a second time. Frankly, Neil, I'd much rather imagine sleeping with Pocahontas.

But it's when we get to the album's title track that I start to wish my ipod was indeed broken.

youtube

The song is a terrifying double to Danger Bird: it's slow and brooding with caveman vocals. But the guitar is mostly sickening instead of life changing and everyone's chanting "Safeway" instead of telling me about Carrie Snodgrass sleeping around with some still unknown famous enemy of Young's and ruining his life in 75. I guess Neil's right, people do want to hear about love. And Marlon Brando. And the Astrodome. And me.

I haven't got much to say about the final track, If I Don't Know. It occurs, and it sucks less than most of what we just sat through. What I fear is that Young is letting some young hipster solo at the end of the song while he stands by, contemplating corporate sin. Jimi Hendrix is dead, Ira Kaplan is busy, Richard Thompson isn't interested and Stephen Stills sucks; no other man on earth should be allowed to solo on a guitar while on stage with Neil.

(But I'd be more than happy to have any number of women do so, however, from Leslie Feist to Myriam Gendron to the recently resurgent Joni Mitchell herself.)

Okay folks we did it. We made it through The Monsanto Years. You have my permission to never listen to it again.

Me? As of this moment, while I hit post, I'm already half way through the record for the second time today, and I'm kinda digging my time at the Big Box store. Looks like I like the record anyway.

Neil Young: even his garbage swings.

#Youtube #neil young #the promise of the real #stephen stills sucks #shakey sundays #feist #myriam gendron

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nightmare-dreamt · 1 year

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HI THERE! HOW ARE YOU? I LOVED MY MATCHUP YOU GAVE ME A WHILE BACK AND I STILL READ IT LOLOLOL, SO I WANTED TO REQUEST SOMETHING IF YOU DONT MIND, ANYWAYS

May I possibly request Tengen Uzui + Wives with a Male! or GN! S/O who has a Margarita Blankenheim Personality from The Evillious Chronicles?? Here’s this song to explain a little more? also how would they react to their S/O being a killer by making people sleep with this gift they call “sleeping”

Thank you!!

this is the character hehhe, also uzui and the wives can also react to the reader looking and dressing like this awesome character as well ehhehana

Thank you for the request and I hope I did well! This is my first time ever doing a request with this type of character so bare with me 😌

Life was always so bland and boring for you. Every single day went the same, wake up, eat, do your chores, eat again, read, clean some more, eat again, and finally go to sleep. It didn't help that your husband was a cheap bastard and chose to spend his nights with other mistresses instead of the one he promised to be with since they were kids. But everything changed when she came into the picture.

A young maiden with long purple hair that was tied back, she was known around the village as a girl with evil magic that made everyone afraid of her, but you weren't afraid. You met her on your run into town and when you did you found out that she was a nice woman who wasn't evil and instead was a fierce warrior who was skilled in mixtures.

From that day forward, the two of you were inseparable and would always be seen around town laughing and enjoying life, but your happiness didn't last long. Your husband found out about your new friend and quickly ended the friendship, forcing you to stay indoors and to never leave. Slowly, your life began to change into a depressed and saddened life, you felt trapped and alone no one to talk with, but it wasn't long before your friend returned.

Secretly, you and your new friend began practicing new magic and mixtures and within time you learned all of the basics now being able to make your own mixtures. But, that happiness didn't last for long when your secret meetings were found out by your husband. You remember the day, the day he and all of the other village members dragged you and the women out of your house into the middle of town. She was tied up and forced onto a pedestal where she was then burned to her death, but before she passed she whispered one last thing.

"Y/n my beautiful child, find my daughter and she'll help you. She lives in the mountains with her friends, she'll protect you from this place," And then she passed away.

Listening to her words, you ran off grabbing everything that you needed from your spell book to your mixtures. Once midnight struck and your husband went to bed, you ran off not before cursing your whole town putting them into a constant state of sleep, never to wake up again, dying with their last moments being of the beautiful women.

Years had passed and you were now a lot older then before and much stronger being able to do any sort of magic. Your favorite was putting people to sleep, it always gave a strange amount of joy when watching those who have done wrong never be able to again. You never forgot the words given to you by the women, you found her daughter in the mountains making her name to be Shinobu, a young hashira who swore to protect the peoples from demon creatures.

The two of you became extremely close friends, telling stories about her mother and the cool things and adventures she had done. You tended to help Shinobu with her work defeating demons alongside her and soon enough you became your own hashira, becoming apart of the pillars. You met the rest of the pillars quickly getting along with all of them, one of them a little too much then the others.

Tengen Uzui, the sound pillar who by far was the most interesting out of them all. You met him and immediately felt a spark between the two of you, but with your past love life, you ignored that spark. Everytime you would be working he would be by your side always having a fascinated look on his face.

"Woah! How did you do that?"

"That was so flamboyant!"

Trying to ignore the ongoing feelings that were building up for the gray haired boy, it soon began to be too much and your small heart couldn't take it. You confessed and to your surprise he liked you back, but there was something else to him that you didn't expect. He already had three wives…

Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru the three wives of Tengen. You were shocked to say the least, but when meeting the three of them it wasn't so bad and they all accepted you and your abilities. In a short amount of time, you became the fifth member of their little family and all of you guys loved each other greatly.

It wasn't long before your past was revealed to your partners and fear struck in you with their reaction about technically killed your husband and the rest of your village. It was concerning at first for them, but with some explaining and reasoning, they all understood and supported your gift and were kind of fascinated with what you could do.

All of them are in love with your fashion and style, always falling deeper in love when seeing your glowing figure in one of those outfits. From time to time, they'll ask if you could dress them like you and you guys will wear matching outfits.

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wackyrumble · 1 year

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The☆Lukeman v.s. Roommate

The☆Lukeman - Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens

An 11 year old boy's manga character who was somehow brought to life when his sister tried to put the manga through a fax machine to blackmail him and it jammed. It takes control of people like a parasite and has a toy story situation where it perceives everything like a manga character.

Roommate - Diary of a Tourney Kid

A clone of Adam Ruins Everything that came out wrong. He debunks things in the same way as his original, but completely incorrectly. Bill Cipher turned him into a hand puppet and fused him with a clone of another character. Fought Walter White and his evil shadow self, Walter Black. Read more about Roommate below.

Full description of Roommate:

"OK OK OK SO LIKE. HE'S FROM THIS MASHUP TOURNAMENT HOSTED ON SOUNDCLOUD & DISCORD CALLED "DIARY OF A TOURNEY KID, RIGHT? YES, IT IS BASED OFF OF DIARY OF A WIMPY KID IN NAME, THEMING, AND A BUNCH OF THE CHARACTERS IN IT. AND YES, THE ENTIRE PREMISE WAS STARTED BY GREG HEFFLEY TRAPPING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE IN THE DIARY. LOOK. OKAY. THAT ISN'T THE POINT HERE. (including a few real people but. roommate isn't one of those real people, LOL)

so Roommate is, like, a WEIRD case. he's a clone of a TV personality version of a real guy(adam conover specifically the whole thing he does in, like, adam ruins everything), but is SPECIFICALLY STATED TO BE A SEPERATE CHARACTER IN LORE. LIKE. HES A WHOLE OTHER GUY. HE DOESNT EVEN ACT LIKE HIM. HES LIKE. THE SCOOBY DOO VILLAIN EQUIVALENT OF A MAN. all he does is run around and "Debunk" shit but hes getting it all totally WRONG. It's like, if someone who never watched adam ruins everything before took one look at its name, the blonde, glasses wearing combover having guy on the cover, and went. "oh, this guy is gonna be HORRIBLE, isnt he". and in the shows case thatd be wrong but in roommate's case, he's...he's so pathetic. he's not even the same guy at this point. (and also literally isn't. but)

He never even manages to intimidate anyone even once. not even mr beast and ninja fortnite, (part of a team called Dubious Duo) who he just. VERY much annoyed via "ruining" twitch. He also got turned into a meaty handpuppet and fused to another clone of a different character by BILL CIPHER, of all characters but then immediately fell into a hole. He got his shit beaten out of him by a 19 year old punk catboy JUST before this, too. the punk catboys name is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart BUT HE IS IN NO WAY RELATED TO THE REAL GUY. HES LITERALLY JUST. SOME RANDOM TEENAGER.

Also, extra fun facts about him include: during an event that happened on the discord, he canonically went ":3". He made his own ytp and posted it on the soundcloud account, too. he put a bunch of goofy wacky cartoon sounds in it. (his mashups use these sounds a lot outside of the ytp, too.) (incase you REALLY wanted to hear the ytp, though. here it is: https://soundcloud.com/doatk/ytpmv-02?in=doatk/sets/bonus )

P.S: extra information from a friend because they like to infodump this sort of thing & this isn't nescessary at all. but: He gets the fandom nickname of "Roommate" from his connection to Collegehumor & the Insane Clown Posse song In My Room, which he used in the tournament & is strongly associated with. He's so. He's so normal.

(P.S, P.S: THE IMAGE I SENT WITH THIS IS TECHNICALLY ART OF HIM FROM A CROSSOVER WITH ANOTHER SOUNDCLOUD TOURNAMENT THAT HAPPENED. BUT. its the best render i have that isnt done in like. ms paint LOL. IN SAID CROSSOVER (WITH A TOURNAMENT CALLED "THE PERFECT TOURNAMENT") HE ALSO FOUGHT WALTER WHITE AND HIS. EVIL SHADOW SELF, CALLED WALTER BLACK. WHO WAS LITERALLY HIS SHADOW.)

also: nobody in the fandom knows what his deal is, either. they literally just couldnt catch the real adam conover at first so they (In canon) just went "well! time to make a clone, i guess!" and then he came out WRONG."

#yugioh sevens #ygo #diary of a tourney kid #roommate #wacky round 1a

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foreverinadais · 2 years

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memories: s.g

summary: steven was once your future. now, he’s your past, a memory- as much as you don’t want him to be. steven grant x reader inspired by the song ‘memories’ by conan gray... so you know this is angsty. i can never find it in myself to end on angst, so there is fluff :)

warnings: angst, angst, angst, sad steven, sad reader, this actually made me cry whilst writing, cussing

word count: 2785

It was raining. You could hear the distinct patter against the ledge of the window, could see the droplets of water barrelling down the surface, as if indulging in an intense race. It was funny, really. How the rain could bring so much comfort despite the connotations of sadness.

It was buried in all of literature and film, the dramatic rain scenes, lovers running into arms and kissing deeply, against all the odds, all the sorrow, as the rain batters down, unfelt to the intensity of the couple’s love. It was plastered in depressive monologues, the rain reflecting, personifying the words spoken, as if they are one.

But this rain… this was just rain. A show of nature. The start of a new life for plants and flowers and rainbows. It was just rain, and you were existing with it. It felt human; you needed that. Especially now. After a month of grieving someone who was still alive.

You were trapped in the memories of the past.

It was worse than any horror movie you’d ever seen. Everyone talks about ghosts, some horrifying ghouls who maliciously haunt innocent families, most often ending badly. OR the family ghosts, the ones which guide, guardian angels more so than evil spirits. But these ghosts, good or bad, are dead. Scary, yes, but there are more terrifying things.

Life. Living. Something that had become increasingly hard to do lately. Not that you didn’t love life. You enjoyed the little things; people walking their dogs, neighbours joking over fences, ice-cream on a hot day, the beat of rain against windows. Life could be beautiful. But the premise of what makes life beautiful was love. And you had lost that.

Steven Grant was alive and well. He was living in his flat with his fish and his books and his umbrellas. He was going to work at the museum every day where he just (finally) been promoted to a tour guide. He was getting his vegan wraps from the new boho pop-up food cart. He was happy. Content in living and his daily routines.

You had been cooped up in your flat for a month with your duvet and TV and movies. You were working the bare minimum to afford what you needed- a demotion if you will. You were devouring junk food some days and nothing at all the next. You weren’t happy. Content only when watching the worst horror films or indulging in fictional rain-drop races.

“So, what’s on tonight, then?”

“Well, I thought we could watch…” you flicked through the films until you landed on:

“The… Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Sounds rather gory.”

“Actually, it isn’t. The director wanted it to meet a wider audience, so they limited the gore, it’s more your imagination that fills in the gaps. Oh, and the fact it’s a true story. Actually, not really. That was a marketing technique. Still, scary all the same.” Steven looked down at where you were shuffling under his arm, chuckling as a said,

“Nerd.” You gasped in mock offence, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“Says you, Mr I-know-everything-about-anything Grant.” Steven shrugged.

“Both a blessing and a curse, eh?” You pout, Steven pecking your lips, “ ‘m sorry, lovie. Common, let’s watch the ‘Chainsaw somethin’ or other killing thing’.” You grin, pressing a big kiss against his cheek, and pressing play, already excitedly explaining another thing about the movie. Steven beamed; he could listen to you talk all day- and happily would.

You quickly clicked away from the title on the screen, heart skipping a beat as you were subtly reminded of your isolation. It was a hit in the chest, a way the universe was haunting you with what once was one of your favourite memories. You settled on Halloween instead.

A slight ‘buzz’ rang through your flat, breaking your attention away from Jamie Lee Curtis who had just appeared on the screen. You froze, pausing the movie and standing up. You felt your heart in your throat.

The rain, the doorbell, the movies… you felt suddenly prepared for a loving monologue from your past love, reminiscing on the good times and spouting cliches of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’. It was certainly that time in the cheesy romcom, the ‘Love Actually’ or the ‘Letters to Juliet.’ You inhale, allowing the buzz to ring once more before you accept it.

The footsteps creep closer to your door, a gentle rush to them, and in your head, the words ‘here it is. Your moment.’ On the first knock, your practically swinging the door open, the wind helping your dramatic gesture to reveal-

“Good evening, I’ve got your order here, number 27?” Oh. You mutter your thanks, searching in your pocket for the tip you had pre-planned when you ordered the food an hour ago, and hastily took the delivery.

Life was not a movie. There were no big romantic gestures, no oversized notecards proclaiming love, no boom boxes blasting the words to your favourite song. There was no more him. You should’ve learnt your lesson when he left. But somehow, the cliches you had consumed left you with a sickening false sense of hope.

“So fucking messy. I can’t find anything in here.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t realise the clean police was gonna be over here. Otherwise I’d have made it nicer for you, your majesty.” You rolled your eyes at Steven’s sarcasm, digging around in yet another pile of books on his desk to find your resume.

“Piss off, Steven, this is important.” You watched as he all but stomped over to the desk, scanning the contents with his eyes before picking up the first bit of paper he saw- your resume.

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voice was laced with a sarcasm only he could have, cockiness in his demeanour. You snatched it off him, already agitated from stress and nerves. “A thank you would’ve been nice, manners an’ all that.” You groaned.

“I don’t need this today, okay?”

“What?? My help?”

“Your acting like an arsehole and you know it.” Steven scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Oh yeah I’m the arsehole. Yeah, not you with your-your wants,” he begins to dramatically clean the desk, shoving books on top of each other, “and your needs,” he motions to your resume which your practically clutching in your hand, “and your bad manners.”

“Fuck you, Steven.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“There you go again. Looks like I’m right again, darling, don’t it?” You couldn’t bear his face any longer, which was a rare occurrence for you, and stormed out, door slamming behind you. It was a stupid fight, really stupid. But it built tensions, even after you had made up. A part of that was because you didn’t get the job. Subconsciously, you blamed the argument with him for that.

Your fingers traced down the spine of one of Steven’s books he had gifted to you on your birthday. He had found it in an old shop, annotated the pages based on what reminded him most of you, and left an inscription of the front page; ‘To my love on your birthday, may this remind you of us forever.’ It was hard to read it without tears forming in your eyes, without emotions clogging your throat and your heart-wrenching.

But you held it. Felt the hardback cover, rusting with antiquity. Flicked through the pages, flowing with reminiscence of times of love. Steven’s words were right. And now they were eternal. An eternal reminder of ‘us’, forever.

“We need to talk.” It was baffling how 4 words could have so much significance before anything was even uttered. But those words, those 4 words, changed everything. Yet, you agreed, sitting across from Steven where once you would’ve sat next to him, on him even. He had a grim look on his features, settling deep within his tired eyes, in the valleys of the crevices in his forehead.

“Okay.” It had felt different for a while. Things weren’t how they used to be. Things change, people change. Some things live but all things die. Yadayadayada.

After a while, you toned it out, the words flying over you and bouncing off the walls, meeting harshly in the middle to engage in battle. He was trying, really trying, to keep it together, to compose himself, because he knew it had to be done. He still loved you, of course he did, he always would.

But it wasn’t fair to keep watering a dead flower, willing it to be beautiful again.

“Say something? Please, lov- Y/N, say anything.” Oh. You hadn’t realised he’d stopped, hasn’t noticed his big eyes boring into yours, desperate and sad.

What was there to be said? Don’t leave? I still love you? I’ll never stop waiting for you? The monologues swirled in your mind as if scripted, a million combinations that had been said a million times before. But, with a heaviness in your heart you had never felt before, you settled on the 2 words which held great, heart-breaking significance; “Goodbye, Steven.”

And it was.

Steven Grant was leaving from your life. His presence, that once was engraved in your sofa, in your heart, was slowly loosening it’s grasp on your possessions. His smell from that cologne he had, the one he insisted on buying, was slowly dissipating from your sheets. His favourite mug in your home had sat untouched at the deepest corner of the cupboard.

What was left was quaint reminders of him, like ghosts, both the guardians and the ghouls. Or morsels of the past, microscopic evidence of the memories lived. When he had taken some of these reminders, that was worse than the initial break-up. It was like taking a part of your brain.

“I tried to, urh, get it all. Should be in there, if there’s anything else, feel free to, yeah, let me know.” Steven had passed you the box full of your possessions and you were staring into it. One of your tops, a snow globe, an earring, a mug. You swallowed harshly, nodding, putting it down on your bed before turning to get his box.

“Here, I tried to do the same.” You placed it into his open hands, the lump in your throat gradually growing, no matter how you tried to swallow it down. Steven glanced into the contents, mostly full of his books and his clothes and his colognes, before quickly looking back up at you.

“Your…” He tried to balance it on one hand, quickly realising that would fail, and putting it on the side. From here, he could easily pull out a book placed delicately on the top. “Your giving this back?” his voice was small as he held the book up, and you knew which one it was instantly. The one with the inscription, the one with the notes, the one with the love and passion and purity that would become corrupted with grief and pain and-

“It feels wrong to keep it. It says, says forever, you know?” He opened it, feeling the words with the pads of his fingers, tracing them as if trying to revive them out of the page. He was lost for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I can’t take it back. Just can’t.” He muttered, pacing forward and placing it in your hands.

“Please, don’t make this harder than it already is, Steven. Just, take the book.” You tried to remain calm, but your voice was breaking, mimicking your heart in your chest.

“No.” He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “You need it. I need you… to have it.” You sighed shakily, looking at the book then at Steven.

“We can’t keep pretending, that this, we, could still exist. This is a reminder of that, of false hope and misleading endings.” You put it back into his hands, crossing your arms as a final answer. He exhaled as if in denial, looking at the physical memory in his hand, feeling the words screaming at him.

“Please.” He didn’t know what he was pleading for. For the past? Probably. For the future? Most definitely. For you? You. “It’s the last thing you ever need to do for me, ‘kay? Keep it. I-I’m begging you.” Perhaps it was the desperation in his features, or the fact that you couldn’t deny him anything, or the way your heart was swelling, and you just needed to cry, but you finally nodded, an ‘okay’ falling from your lips as you accepted the book in his hands.

It was a different kind of goodbye. A reminder. You held it in your hands for a few days, staring at in blanky, trying to recapture the exact feelings you felt when you had first been handed it. You had said goodbye to Steven again, and this time, it felt finite.

You were grateful he had convinced you to take the book. You were grateful to be reminded on the time you felt something eternal. Because how many people can say that? That they had a love good enough for movie screens?

The food was gone, and the movie was over. All that was left in your minuscule hidey-hole of the world was the rain. Still pattering down the windows, comforting in nature, providing company, reminding you were alive.

Knock knock knock.

Was that… no, couldn’t be. It must’ve been the wind, you reasoned, sensing the rain getting harsher, as if a storm was brewing. You stood anyway, switching off the TV, putting the rubbish from the food into the bin.

Knock knock knock.

Harder, this time, more determined. Oh. It wasn’t your imagination. There was somebody at the door, Your feet carried you over, your mind not bothered about your appearance or your mood. You had let your hopes get high once before, never again, you promised, as you unlocked the door and let it off the latch.

You opened up the door, a rush of cold air swooping through followed by a nostalgic and particular cologne… your eyes snap up instantly to meet his. His hair is dripping with the rain, a box of heart-shaped chocolates in his hand, his cheeks rosy from the distinctive London chill.

You rubbed your eyes, thinking, surely, that this is a memory, that your brain is playing it’s cruel tricks on you. But, no; he’s here. Breathing heavy, eyes watery, clothes damp, here.

“What are you…” you start, but you shake your head, already knowing the answer. You remind yourself, again and again, this isn’t a movie. “I’m sorry I forgot about your mug, it’s safe, don’t worry, still in the cupboard, I can grab it if you want-”

“I don’t want the mug. Well, actually, I do, I rather miss it sometimes. But, no, I want the mug here,” Your confused as he storms past you, setting the chocolates on the side and shaking off his jacket. “Look, leaving you was the worst mistake of my ‘hole life. I’ve read a lot of books, a lot, and-and thanks to you, I’ve watched tonnes of films, and all of them say the same thing about love. That it’s the greatest thing in the universe. And I believe that. But all these movies, all of literature, tries to say their love story is the best. But no, I don’t believe that. Our love is what the poets wish they had. Our love is what the actors aspire to show. But they never could, cause our love is the best there ever was. I guess I’m tryna say… will you marry me?”

But life was not a movie.

Steven was still at the door. There were no chocolates, no words spoken. There was just rain and cologne and breathing.

You looked at each other, a million words between the two of you, a million monologues to choose from. Flashes of the past, your past, swirled through the air, as if reaching around for the one who created it.

Steven went to speak, but stopped himself, exhaling as he looked at you. I’ve missed you, he wanted to say, but you knew that, could see it in his eyes. I need you, you wanted to say, but he knew that, could feel it in his heart.

So, he smiled. And you smiled back. All the words in his brain slowly settled into just one: “Hi.”

“Hi.” A new beginning. You stepped aside, a pure, real, smile on your face as he came into your apartment. And that night, an unspoken promise was created between the two of you-

There would be no more goodbyes. You would not become a memory again.

#Steven Grant #steven with a v #steven grant x reader #steven grant angst #steven grant imagine #moon knight imagine #moon knight angst #moon knight headcanon #moon knight ff #angst #break up

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