#100 round drum

[gunzlotzofgunz]

#C MAG DOUBLE DRUM MAGAZINE SYSTEM FOR M16/M4 100 ROUND CAPACITY.

[koishiro]

# - 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒 📍

masterlist | jjk masterlist | 3am thoughts masterlist

Now, this doesn’t mean he doesn’t like rest of you, 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘰.

Your tits are great too, he just prefers your ass.

Toji just gives off ass vibes (in literally every sense of the word, megumi would agree).

“𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬,” and that’s when he’ll shoot his shot, landing the harshest slap known to man on your ass.

You’re both in the kitchen cooking dinner when he’ll ask if you can pass him the spice from the cupboard which doesn’t lead you to think anything’s out of the ordinary considering you’re the closest to said cupboard when it happens,

“．．．𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴?”

Yes he did sweetie. He will purposely ask you to pass him things just so he can 1) have a great view of your ass in those tight spandex shorts, and 2) slap your ass of course, what else? He has to leave his mark somehow after he’s ran out of room on your neck.

And if you’re laying on you stomach on the couch, you’re just asking for it at this point. Toji will be right behind you to land his reign of terror.

Will sit on your legs to stop you from interrupting his fun and starts playing the drums on your ass, don’t argue with me.

“𝘸𝘩𝘺’𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘩? 𝘥𝘰’𝘺𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵’𝘤𝘩𝘢?”

I have no doubt in my mind that he’d sleep on it too like if you’re in bed and end up falling asleep on your stomach you will 100% of the time wake up with his head firmly planted on top and his arms wrapped around your hips to keep you in place. Why use pillows when he has you?

And if you ask what in the fuck he’s doing, he’ll reply with a response too muffled from your ass cheeks to be coherent, not bothering to lift his head in acknowledgment.

Other times he’ll be on his back scrolling on his phone with you tucked into his side while his other hand just uses your ass as a stress toy.

“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 ’𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯’？'𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 ’𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴”

Don’t think for a second that you’re safe once in public, nothing shall stop this man from his desires. You’re his after all, what’s there to hide?

He’s the type of guy to put his hand in your back pocket just so it’s a discreet and socially acceptable way of holding your ass.

And if you’re both waiting in line for something he’ll stand directly behind you so his cock his snug between your cheeks while his arms are wrapped around you, pulling you closer and preventing you from pulling away.

Also prevents other guys from staring, so that’s a bonus in his eyes.

“����𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺”

When he’s gone away for business he would definitely ask you for pics and vids but not of your cute face (although he’s not complaining when he does receive them) and not nudes (that will definitely come up though) but of your ass in those tiny little panties you bought specifically for him, pulled high to create an arch above your cheeks, accentuating your round and plump ass.

No doubt he has a private folder in his phone dedicated to your ass. Ranging from ‘innocent’ shots from when you were cooking with your back to him or a picture he took with his one arm around your waist, the other on your lower back with you facing away from the mirror.

Then the other (most) part of his folder ranges from the multiple positions you make during sex. Some in the classic doggy-position, others in the reverse cowgirl and if he’s really feeling it; him sat on the edge of your bed facing the mirror while you’re bouncing on his cock, those are his favourite.

“𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧’𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭”

When he arrives home the first thing he’ll do is bend down to pull you into a hug with his hands firmly planted on your ass, ending with a slap.

He’ll be talking about how the trip was and what he did while he casually massages your ass - still standing in the hallway.

“𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘯’ 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

This concludes my list of why I’m convinced that Toji’s an ass man.

All in all, Toji is an ass guy and no one can change my mind.

－ 𝘬𝘰𝘪 ♡︎

5：42𝘢𝘮

#きたない 📍 #🍓 ₊˚✩⊹ #∞༺♡༻✧ 3 𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 .ᐟ #⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒋𝒖𝒋𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒖 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏 成人向け #jjk scenarios #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jujutsu toji #toji x y/n #jjk toji #toji x you #toji zenin #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------

It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," you swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," you reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," you beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone, "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," he interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," he purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

---------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #sandman #the sandman fic #sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #lord morpheus #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream #dream x reader #sandman smut #dream smut #dream of the endless smut #the endless #the dreaming #tom sturridge #sandfam #saskia writes sandman

[mysticficti0n]

Hi B can you do something about if the TH boys were to walk-in while she was showering?? I feel it would be really funny

thank you ♥︎

BAHAHAHAHAHAH OMG YESSS

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

Shower intrusion

warnings- swearing and thats about it

words- 990

Tom

Tom was sat round in the living room watching some stupid film on tv until the idea of going for a nice relaxing shower came to his mind, he knew Y/n was up stairs, he could hear her fucking music rattling off the walls so its perfect timing to go in and clean off whatever was on him from the day. He climbed up the stairs and saw his roommates door wide open with the speaker on 100 volume, he shook his head as he grabbed a towel from his dresser and walked to go to the bathroom, his hand twisted the door knob and he walked in and hot steamy air hit his face "TOM GET OUT!" a high pitched yell echoed on the tiled walls "FUCKING HELL Y/N!" he shouted back standing stunned as Y/n reached for the shower curtain to wrap around her body "well don't just fucking stare!" the girl growled seeing Tom's eyes widen with realisation to what he'd done- we all know where his little eyes drifted... "shit I'm sorry I thought you were in your room!" he argued looking to the ceiling trying to not think of her naked in front of him "I'll go now erm... enjoy?" Tom had never moved quicker in his life to leave the bathroom. Why was he such an idiot? Tom found himself sat back down on the sofa flicking through channels before a wet-haired Y/n came and stood before him- fully dressed in her Pj's may I add- he gave her a shy smile as she crossed her arms staring down at the slouched position he was in "bathrooms free now perv"

Bill

"I need to go take this bloody make-up off!" Bill groaned wiping his black eyes and seeing a huge dark smudge draw itself along his hand "ugh!" leaving the group down stairs he went to his room searching for the make-up wipes "come on where are they?" he pulled open every draw he owned swiping his hands over every surface he could reach but nothing Then he thought to check Y/n's room, she always had wipes stocked somewhere, he knocked the door and had no response, Bill opened the door slightly and saw a darkness filled room but a light shone from her bathroom, with a happy sigh he trudged in walking straight to the bathroom not noticing the sound of the taps being twisted off "Y/n I need some- OH FUCK I'M SORRY!" right in front of his eyes was a unsuspecting Y/n hurriedly wrapping her towel around her "why didn't you say something when you were walking in!" she laughed seeing the singer cover his eyes and spin back round "fucking idiot, you can turn around now" slowly Bill turned back to the girl seeing her fully covered with a clip holding her hair back "erm.. I need make-up wipes if you have any" his voice was quieter than before making Y/n chuckle and point to next to her sink "thanks and sorry... I don't know why I didn't thing you'd be in the shower" the boy quickly grabbed the wipes and ran back down stairs to fill in his bandmates about his encounter before wiping off his make-up

Georg

Georg was sweating like shit on a hot day after being outside helping set up the barbecue with Tom who couldn't seem to understand how to screw legs onto the main barbecue drum which oddly enough ended with a shoe mark stamped into it, with heavy steps he came up the stairs taking his shirt off and already unbuckling his belt his free hand pushing the bathroom door open as soon as the smell of vanilla and lavender filled his nose he regretted everything he did "shit sorry sorry!" he chanted walking back out closing his eyes making him close to smacking his head off the door "Jesus Georg you gave me a heart attack!" the girl called with a laugh, while the bassist stood with a thought fighting his way to the front of his mind, he opened the door slightly again and the scent of his shampoo washed over him "are you using my fucking almond shampoo?!" he yelled getting a suspicious 'no' from the girl "fucking hell Y/n out of everyone in this bloody house I didn't think you'd be nicking my shampoo! I wondered why it ran out so fast!" "look it makes your hair so shiny and smooth I was getting jealous!" Georg couldn't stop a laugh from leaving his lips "I'll buy you your own next time but don't use any more!" he warned walking to his own room to write a reminder 'get the shampoo stealer her own shampoo'

Gustav

"god my shoulders hurt so bad" the drummer grumbled rubbing the sore spot on his right side "ah- I need a shower, hot water helps" he spoke to the group sat with him as he turned to leave the room he thought he remembered Y/n saying she was going for a shower but surely she'd be out now? He made his way to the bathroom and pushed the door open and herd the small voice of Y/n singing a tune then "GUSTAV LEAVE!" the boy was brought back as he attempted to run out the room but it turned out to be more of a stumble as he smacked into the wall outside "SORRY Y/N!" he yelled slamming the door shut while slapping himself in the face trying to forget the image on Y/n with suds falling down her body, how long was he looking? "why does nobody in this goddamn house knock doors before they enter?" the girl shouted with a grunt making him laugh and her angriness, he'd make it up to her- maybe buying a door lock? "Gustav I know you're still outside" he snickered walking back down stairs with a red tint across his face "oopsie" he giggled

#bill kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #00s #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz imagines #germany #gustav schafer x reader #georg listing x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #tokio hotel imagine #georg listing imagines #georg listing fluff #georg listing fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #Tokio Hotel #devilish #tom kaulitz icons

[jasmines-library]

Oh, Baby.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: Vehicular accident.

Fandom: supernatural.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

Warnings: car crash, dislocated shoulder, broken bones/ribs, blood.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean was driving too fast. His foot was pressed all the way down on the pedal as he let the impala fly down the road. He was drumming along to the rhythm of the music as you and Sam sang. The hunt had been successful and spirits were high. The three of you were looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed, because the night was cold and an eerie chill hung in the air.

The October chill had cast a fog over the road, which obscured everything further than a few metres ahead, but Baby was nearing Kansas and Dean knew the roads well, so he wasn’t too fussed by the narrow roads.

But what happened next came out of nowhere. Another passing car had skidded off of the road and veered into your lane. It smashed into the left passenger side of Baby, sending her sliding off the path. Your side of the car took the brunt of the impact as it collided with a tree. The motion sent your body sliding roughly into the door with a force that was sure to leave bruises. The glass spiderwebbed and then shattered, raining down hundreds and thousands of tiny glass flakes over your head.

Dean groaned when the car stilled, sitting up abruptly. His chest felt tight where the seat belt had flattened against his ribs, so he fumbled to unclip his seatbelt. As he twisted he caught sight of his brother whose head hung low against his chest. There was glass in his hair and a small cut on his temple.

“Sam.” Dean reached over to shake his brother. “Sammy.”

Sam sat up abruptly but immediately regretted the pull in his side. “What..?”

“Are you ok?” Dean took in the caved in metal, pissed that he would have to rebuild it again.

“Fine.” Sam brushed the glass from his hair as he too surveyed the damage. But his eyes widened and he gripped his brother's arm when he suddenly remembered you in the backseat. “Y/n.”

The two of them manoeuvred their bodies in the small space so that they could face you. Some of the roof had caved in, which made it hard to see, but they managed to make out your unconscious body in the darkness. It was crumpled against the doorframe. Your head rested on the window ledge, hair matted with blood from where it had collided with the frame and scraped against the shards of glass. Your arm hung at a concerning angle, and they were almost 100% sure your shoulder was dislocated, but they couldn’t tell from this angle.

Dean reached over the seat, straining his body but you were too far away for him to reach you, so he tried to call your name. You didn’t move.

Dean cursed and pushed hard on his doors to open it. “See if you can get her door open.”

Sam forced the door open and clambered out of the car as his brother made his way round the crushed bonnet. Half of your door was completely obscured by the tree that had made the car stop spiralling out of control, making it impossible to open the door.

Dean rammed his fist into the side of the car in a fit of rage.

“Fuck! Sam help me move the car.”

The Winchesters shuffled round to the back of the car and began to haul the car away from the tree. It took a great amount of effort and their boots leaving dents in the frosty ground of them to move the impala, but when it finally inched far enough away from the tree and your door was visible, they breathed a sigh of relief. But immediately took it back when they tugged in the misshaped handle and the door didn’t budge.

Then Dean tried to rouse you again, reaching through the window and rousing your body. You whined as all of the pain flooded in at once.

“Sweetheart?”

You twisted your head to glance up at him through droopy eyes. “Dean?”

“It’s us.”

You whimpered as you tried to shift, pinned down by your seatbelt. “Hurts.”

“We know sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of there. Just hold on for us okay?”

You nodded, but made no noise.

Sam tried the handle again but it was stuck down firmly as if someone had welded the pieces together and then encased them in a layer of concrete just to make sure that they were secure.

He then considered the window. They could pull you out from it but that would run the risk of injuring you further, especially with the shards of glass jutting out from the bottom. It was far from Sam’s first choice, but at the moment it was looking like their only option.

“Give me your jacket.” He reached out a hand to his brother.

“What?” Without his jacket the cold air would bite at Dean’s skin. Sam knew this, but Dean’s jacket was thicker than his and would provide you more protection when they moved you.

“Just give it to me.”

Dean shrugged it off after pocketing his phone and placed it in his brother's hands who then laid it across the bottom of the window and leaned forwards to talk to you.

“Okay Kid I need you to unbuckle your seatbelt. Can you do that for me?”

You fumbled blindly for the buckle, wincing at the tug on your arm and ribs, both of which were already forming dark bruises and were more likely than not broken in some places. You relaxed as the pressure lessened, but without the fabric keeping you in place, your body slumped forwards.

Sam hooked his arm under your shoulders ready to guide you out of the window. “This is gonna hurt sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

When Sam tugged upwards you screamed. Every inch of your body burned as he slid you out of the window. The strain on your shoulder was immense, and the brothers were now certain that it was dislocated.

“Stop.” You begged. “Please.”

Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

He pulled you out the last stretch of the window without adding too many cuts to your fragile body, only a few nicks here or there. Dean helped ease you down onto the ground.

“Cas is on his way.” He told his brother, who gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment because his full attention was on you. It was too far to get to the hospital in time.

“We have to pop it back in.” Dean told him, gesturing to your shoulder. “If we leave it like that it’s going to get worse.”

Sam bit his lip. “I know.”

“Please… it hurts” you whimpered. “No more. Please.”

“Just a little bit more and then it’ll stop. I promise.” Sam told you, bracing his hands on your shoulders as Dean leaned you against his chest. You cried into his chest, clinging onto his shirt to hide from the cold.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“On three.” Sam said. “One. Two-“

He rolled the joint, forcing it back into place before you had time to brace yourself. You cried out sharply, nursing your arm as tears flooded your cheeks.

Shakily he removed his hands.

“All done, y/n. All done.”

Dean rubbed your back gently and cast a worried gaze at his brother who towered above the two of you.

It was fateful waiting for the flutter of wings. Dean held you close to his chest as you shivered. Whether it was from the pain or the cold he didn’t know, but they had to keep forcing you awake when your eyes drifted shut. As Dean held you, Sam made work of trying to salvage anything from the car. He had found a blanket wedged in the backseat and draped it over your shoulders.

At last, Cas finally appeared.

“I am sorry.” He rattled out. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Can you help her?” Sam asked.

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your forehead from where a blinding light was emitted and then a wave of calm washed over you, soothing all your aches and pains before you fell asleep against Dean’s chest.

“She should be fine now.” Cas instructed “she just needs to rest.”

“Thank you.” Dean pulled your sleeping form and smiled gently into your hair, glad to still have you by his side for a while longer.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 21 ⛤ DAY 23 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober 23 #whumptober2023 #no.22 #vehicular accident #car crash #supernatural #supernatural x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x injured reader #sam winchester x injured reader #spn fanfic #spn x reader #Castiel x reader #blood #broken bones #broken ribs #dislocation #dislocated shoulder #Angel healing

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter one

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 2,9k

❱ summary: the chaotic mess of playing monopoly drunk with your best friends

❱ warnings: alcohol

❱ an: the first chapter.. excited for you to read this! This has been heavily edited from my ao3 post soo have fun <3

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER ONE: MONOPOLY

"Oh, would you look at that; you landed on my street. Again."

"What? No fucking way."

"Legolas"

"Gimli"

"Blondie, if I don't see my money in ten seconds I'm cutting your hair while you have your beauty sleep."

"No, you wouldn't dare!"

Across from Legolas, Gimli just flashed him a toothy grin, so wide and full of mischief, before leaning over the multitude of cards in front of him with a challenging tip of his head.

"Try me."

"Fine." Legolas drummed his fingers on the table, breaking the staring contest and waving it off like it had never bothered him. "Don't drag it out any further, Gimli, tell me what I owe you, and let me go my way."

For a moment Gimli pretended he had to look for them, but everyone at the table had noticed how his fingers had twitched for the green card as soon as Legolas had rolled the dice.

"You ended up on Oxford Street, which normally would've only cost you $26, but since I have not one, not two, but three houses, you now owe me a wonderful 900!"

And as in previous rounds, Legolas now quite unemotionally pulled two orange paper bills from his carefully sorted, rather tall, stack and received an already slightly worn 100 in exchange, which he accepted with a bitter grumble.

This exchange had happened so many times this evening that you now only rolled your eyes with a smile at the banter, sipping on your bottle of beer to avoid being drawn into the discussion in the first place.

The rivalry between Legolas and Gimli, playful in its purest form and with not an ounce of real bad blood, had become a permanent part of your life after you befriended the two of them.

Although it had slightly thrown you off at first how they went from harmless conversation to competition in seconds, you couldn't imagine your life without it.

In such a fast-paced modern world as this, you sometimes found it hard to hold on to friendships and avoid losing your grip in the swift whirl of time; in the case of many friendships that were strong at the time, you couldn't even remember if there had been a real goodbye, or if they had simply... disappeared - left behind or run ahead, who knew?

With Legolas and Gimli, however, it was different.

You met both of them on the first day of college, had run into both of them, literally, when you tried to get to your first class on time.

A class with a professor you'd only heard bad things about Visitor's Day. The hushed whispers of scared students, their eyes telling you more than what they actually dared to say on campus.

You were close to being punctual, wouldn't it have been for Legolas and Gimli. The duo stood in front of the closed lecture door, simply staring through the tiny window and looking like they would rather perish than actually open it.

Their looks of fear mirrored yours and it was clear that all three of you had heard the stories of students getting their heads ripped of by Professor Sauron. That man had strong feelings about tardiness– and it was only your first day.

You of course rushed to apologize, babbling that you hadn't seen Gimli, and no, it wasn't because of his size but rather due to your lack of attention, and please could they stay on your side when you go into the hell of public humiliation?

By some wonder the Professor had his back turned to the auditorium to fill the blackboard with the required reading list, as you snuck along the stairs and miraculously dropped into the last three empty seats without getting caught.

And when you had breathed a sigh of relief, the brunette who sat on your right passed you the attendance list he had kept with him a little while longer, as if he had suspected that someone else would be late.

That's how you met Aragorn. The ruggedly handsome brunette added to your trio and was conveniently organized enough to lend you and Gimli a pen for the first week.

From day one, you formed an inseparable unit, whether on campus, in the numerous bars you frequented, or in the parks where you often spent your free time - rarely were any of you seen without the others and you would never hear the others utter one single bad word about the other.

You practically did everything together, from classes, many of which you shared – often to the annoyance of professors and fellow students due to the vibrant and occasionally noisy atmosphere you created– to lunches lounging under the campus's shady trees, with Aragorn reading poems from his literature class, and you occupied with braiding Gimli's long-grown beard while Legolas dozed in the longing stares of bypassers, gossiping and flirting.

On weekdays before exams, you either barricaded yourselves in your tiny dorm room, for it was the closest to the library, quizzing each other up and down the subjects, writing flashcards, most of which you wrote, to give to Legolas and Gimli afterward, and after exams, you forced your way into bar after bar, leaving your marks in benches and stools, squeezing into cramped photo booths in brightly lit clubs.

The first trimester passed swiftly, much like the initial semesters of the second, which you were presently struggling to handle.

It was the college life that everyone probably dreamed of, that every movie romanticized, and even you sometimes couldn't believe how perfect everything was.

Certainly, not every exam resulted in a perfect score and not every day was adorned with rose-colored glasses of happiness perched on your nose.

Yet, be it a poorly performed test, a date lacking sparks, or a random low point, your boys stood steadfastly by your side, offering unwavering support.

Today was no different.

The day had started with you waking to the sun and not your alarm clock and getting your ass handed by Professor Sauron.

It continued with some pretty demotivating feedback on an essay you'd worked many late nights by your Herbology Professor Baggins.

He did offer you a pat on the back that probably meant to cheer you up but felt condescending considering the amount of red ink staining the essay you'd crumbled in sweaty hands.

Adding that to Professor Sauron's embarrassment of you in front of the entire class sank your already low spirits to the basement.

Not even Aragorn's consoling hand, which remained steadfastly by your side throughout the day, guiding you from one class to the next, mumbling soft words and trying to cheer you up with soft kisses to your forehead, could lift you out of this emotional abyss.

How you survived that day was a mystery but after eight hours of you pouring out bad energy like radioactive waves, Legolas must've had enough of your moping and the grim expressions you fired at anyone who shouldered you in the hallway.

With a determined, "We're going to my place," the blonde had put his pep talk plan consisting of a trip to the liquor section of the supermarket and an order from the delivery guy into action.

It was this very plan that had gotten you into your current situation.

Slightly drunk at the kitchen table of the House of Oropherion.

A Monopoly board in front of your nose, around it several empty beer bottles. Pizza boxes scattered on the countertops and bags of all sorts of sweet stuff that Legolas had sweepingly pushed from the shelves into the shopping cart, blowing pink bubble gum bubbles.

The guy seriously had a snack-problem and a spending habit that surely made for a good intervention.

Within a few hours, you had turned the otherwise pristine and tidy kitchen into a battlefield that looked a lot like the one in your dorm.

Whereas the one in the dorm was used by twenty young women and many of their partners, and this one just by four.

Just as in the dorm, loud laughter echoed through the entire house, accompanied by your shared playlist.

Legolas had set it playing on the expensive stereo while preparing his snack bowl.

It was a chaotic mix, Legolas pop music, Gimlis folk metal and Aragorns indie rock while you sprinkled in a few classical songs or added whatever else was missing.

Quietly, you hummed along to the hottest chart song of this summer.

Your spirits had risen by now, thanks to your best friends, even if it did look like they were about to go for each other's throats over a denied exchange of a road.

"My Lady," Aragorn interrupted the rising argument between Legolas and Gimli and held out his hand with the dice to you, "Please stop this madness and continue the round so we can finish this eventually.. hopefully today"

Grinning, you accepted the dice, "I will do my best, my lord," while Gimli muttered into his beard, "Not my fault Barbie isn't giving me what's rightfully mine."

As expected, the idiots fell silent as soon as you gave the dice a quick shake in your closed hands and then tossed them across the table with a clatter.

Of course, in the face of eventual earnings, everyone immediately calculated where you would end up and who might rip off what little money was left in front of you.

Two threes.

And everyone groaned in annoyance.

Only you grinned as you dragged your silver dog figure across the Park Lane and Mayfair field decorated with a few of Legolas hotels, right over GO and landed on your own field.

Another round where you survived on the 200 notes from pulling over GO, anxious not to land on one of the hotel fields from the others.

Because, unlike the others, greedy little hoarders who acquired your properties, swindling you with meager donations, you possessed only the two modest brown streets, yielding little profit.

With each move of yours, the others hoped you would finally end up on one of their plots and finally be eliminated, but as if fate would have it, you seemed to be avoiding it just fine.

"And she lives another round," Aragorn raised his beer bottle in your direction and winked "Any bets on how many more you'll survive?"

You snorted as you shook the dice in your hand again. "You're not getting rid of me that fast."

The dice clattered across the board, two ones and loud rumbling from the boys, you moved to the community chest square laughing.

Reaching across the board, you grabbed the top card of the cards and dramatically pulled it up to your chest.

To your left, Legolas drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, and even though Aragorn has so far stayed away from the competition between Legolas and Gimli, he too now nodded his chin questioningly at the card.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, you turned it over, keeping eye contact with your boys for a while, though, before looking down, skimming the printed text, and laughing out loud.

"What does it say?" Legolas inquired, trying to lean toward you, dark eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Geez, tell me it's a bad card."

"You can decide that for yourself, Gimli," chuckling, you held out your card in such a way that the three of them almost bumped heads, so fast were they bending to the center.

"You've got to be kidding me," Aragorn slumped back in his chair with a moan, and Gimli slammed his hands flat on his thighs, cursing a string of words that in their pure filthy form would make anyone else blush.

You were only spurred on by them, and laughter burst out of you, loud and full of glee.

"I'd like a hundred from each of you right now, it's my birthday after all," you smirked, holding out your hand.

Aragorn was the first to put a bill on it, and even Gimli, though he stressed that he would get it back before you ran out of laughter, handed over something from his well-guarded account.

"Laaas, what am I waiting for? A birthday song?" you asked.

Legolas raised a perfect eyebrow and slid you a bill looking so bored that you almost bought it, "You can wait a long time for a song."

"For the chance to hear your voice dedicate a song to me, I'd wait a thousand years," you sang, winking with a sugary smile on your lips.

"Or I'd just watch the recordings from last night's karaoke, I'd even get a love song from you as a gift," dramatically you grabbed your chest with both hands and threw your head back

"And wouldn't that be oh so romantic?"

"Please," he scoffed, "If I'd really tried you'd be on your knees in seconds. Babe, I have charm."

For a moment you manage to pulled yourself together, looking into Legolas' eyes, holding his challenging gaze from which you didn't know to interpret if he truly believed his statements himself.

Then you heard Gimli's dirty laugh.

The redhead hands hit the table so hard that several of the hotels flew in all directions, and with them your composure.

With a rather unfeminine snort, you threw yourself backward in your chair, your head craned back and your arms folded in front of your stomach; there was no saving you from the laughter that bubbled out of you like hot water on a stove.

"Your charm?" you gasped, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

Unsuccessfully, because when you saw Legolas stand up indignantly and toss his blond hair over his shoulder, the tears flew unstoppably down your cheeks.

Sure, you were aware of what a charming man Legolas could be; you were teasing, not blind.

It took nothing to perceive him for what he was, and that was a flawless beauty. That angelic face, long blond-gold hair flowing over his shoulder, and eyes ever so gentle, marked him a natural beauty and unfortunately, you couldn't deny that what came out of his mouth most of the time made most men and women's hearts swell.

You were friends with him, though, and the idea of being even remotely touched by his charm made you laugh beyond control.

And you heard all the bullshit the guy yapped about when there was no one around he wanted to impress.

"What?" Legolas asked, and in his voice, a challenge that, voiced by the beer, didn't bode well, "I don't want to sound too arrogant" –snickering from the three of you– "go fuck yourselves, I'm charming! I'm sure, oh I bet, that you would fall for it!"

And before you would have objected much, he took a big swig from his bottle and slid down from his chair.

Right in front of you.

Onto his knees.

It was the look of firm conviction in his eyes, the way he reached for your hand and gently held it like it was made of cracked glass against his chest, that made your laughter turn into a silly giggle.

Legolas, even though he was swaying a bit and his words were no longer flowing too loosely from his tongue, was a sight you wouldn't any time soon. "My darling friend, whose attention I do not deserve–"

"Now that's what I call true words," grunted Gimli, who had also leaned back in the meantime and received a punishing look from Legolas before the blond turned back to you.

"–whose attention I don't deserve and that yet has me blossoming, like the first flowers reaching out to the sun, for you are the light in my life. Everything that connects us tugs at my heart, it cries out for more and I'm afraid I can no longer remain silent about my feelings"

Ironically, at that very moment, he paused, seemed lost in thought and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

Not that it helped him really.

But you waited patiently nonetheless, letting Legolas continue to play the role of the poet.

He looked back at you from the far distance in which his gaze had become playfully entangled, and you saw the twitch of his lips, the sign of a cheeky grin he tried to keep down.

It didn't matter what words made him fight the grin, though, Legolas didn't get to say them.

Thanks to the music, which had faded into the background but still sounded through the sound system, as well as your group's silly fooling around and never-ending laughter, you hadn't heard the front door unlock, or the footsteps in the hallway.

It wasn't until an amused-sounding "Oh, am I interrupting?" rang out in a very familiar voice behind you that you became aware of the new presence in the room.

Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, the deep voice rolling over your entire body like sweet honey.

You heard Aragorn laugh, a murmured, "You've lost your girl, Las," and the blonde in front of you groaned as he struggled to his feet.

"Great, wow, I was literally so close to getting her around. Thank you so much, Ada," Legolas scoffed.

You followed his gaze, eyes falling onto the man casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

And your heart jumped inside your chest.

taglist: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #📁files: passenger princess

[closets-closet]

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish

Head Cannon.

The insane obsession I have with this man is beyond comprehension. You don’t get it, if he walked this earth, and managed to find me of all people. I think I would genuinely pass away on the SPOT.

Anywho, here’s my favorite HC! that Johnny 100% listens to dad rock.. Specifically this playlist

Anyways, let me know how you feel about it and what other characters and HC you would like to see 🫡🤍

-

-

I’ve got a strong feeling that Johnny listens to American ‘Dad Rock’ Like i’m talking Foo Fighters, Linkin Park, Green Day, Nirvana, AC/DC and Red Hot Chili Peppers are just a few of the many. I think it comes from them touring in the States and Johnny hearing it on the radio, and ever since then that’s all he plays, and it drives his team INSANE especially because he is definitely humming the lyrics or flat out singing at full volume with that amazing scottish accent.

-

-

It’s a Friday on base, and thankfully it’s one of the days where everyone is scheduled off, no training, no mission breifs, just a day of rest and miscellaneous tasks that have been put on the back burner. You find yourself wondering base while you wait for your laundry to finish, the sun burning bright across your skin. As you meander through the training feilds behind base you hear the faint sound of drums and guitar from the garage. Curiosity piked you get closer inching towards the door only to hear the familiar voice of a scott’s man you know all to well. Johnny is leaning over the engine well of one of the many trucks you use on missions, his hands coated in grease and oil painting them a sickly black. You watch quietly as he hums the lyrics to ‘Scar Tissue’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. A song that you’re very familiar with, a song you and your father would listen to on the way to school. You catch yourself admiring him, the way his biceps push against his shortsleeved shirt everytime he goes to twist a valve or move a hose, the melodic sound of his humming, or the way his eyebrows pinch together when he’s not all the way sure what he’s looking for. He turns to grab the rag next to him which he drags across his forehead wiping sweat and grease away. “What are ye doin' round here, Bonnie?” He says as he looks you over, walking “Ye look a wee bit lost.. lookin’ for me by chance” He shots you a wink that paints your face a bright pink. You can’t help but smile and nod as you get closer, listening to the music that reminds you all too well of your childhood. And while your eyes are fixed on the engine of the truck that he was working on, his eyes are only fixed only on you.

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap x you #my love #Spotify

[harrystiddess]

DRUMMER GIRL

PART II

A/N: If my scenarios before bed were a fanfic haha

WORD COUNT: I’m bad at math

SUMMARY: She's a drummer and a cop and he's in need of a drummer. Will she "stick" with his offer?

DRUMMER GIRL SERIES

Content Warning: None as of yet!

Read Part I here

HARRY’S POV

H: I think I just found us a drummer

Jeff: While taking a walk on the streets?

H: …Yes..

Jeff: When can they audition?

H: Actually tonight 7pm at Bardo’s

Jeff: They have a gig or something?

H: Sort of…

Jeff: Alright, I’ll meet you at your place then?

H: Uhm Actually I’ll be going early…

Jeff: To the venue? Why are they a friend?

H: No she’s not a friend and I’m juts going to get her flowers that’s all

Jeff: 👀

H: Here we go again

Jeff: Hahaha I’m joking chill man

H: you’re annoying

Jeff: I know 💁🏻‍♀️

6:30 PM Same Day

I’ve been pacing back and forth, I even drank chamomile Tea which I hate- but nothing seems to calm me down. Only this sentence playing through my head. “Harry Styles is going to fucking watch you play tonight”

It’s almost show time but i can’t see him anywhere. I would be lying if I said I haven’t been peeking through the curtain to find him. Even though he seemed a little full of himself I couldn’t bury the pure excitement I was feeling. As I take a good last peek for the last time, I spot Jeff. Great. Even though I knew he’d be there, it was just enough to tip off my anxiety.

I go back and quickly fix my make up and wear the last bit of my outfit.

The only good thing about tonight was that I was wearing All leather and thigh high boots. Tonight’s outfit- was my dream come true.

I’m the first one to walk out to the crowd screaming. It wasn’t a huge crowd, just about 100 people.

I walk in, bow down and I take a seat on my throne. (A/N: The seat of a drum kit is called a Throne)

As the others make their entry on stage I take my time to find Harry. He looks curious as if he were genuinely interested in my talent.

It was time for us to start, which we did with a classic “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay followed by imagine dragons and songs the bad wrote.

At the end of the hug, the crowd was left in awe. Tonight’s gig was a big hit.

After all of us take the last bow and take the crowds leave, we all go backstage getting our gear back in, to go to the bar and celebrate.

I come back out with Elle laughing about me tripping when I realise that Harry and Jeff are walking towards be. Harry has a bouquet in his hands. Bouquets of white daises. It was quite funny because Whute Daisies are my favourite flowers and there was no way he knew that unless..

“Hi” he says breathing out

“Hi”

“You were fucking amazing”

“Was I really? Or you’re just desperate for a drummer”

“I wouldn’t say I’m desperate, but you were phenomenal”

“Thankyou” I say chuckling

“Oh and I got these for you”

“White daisies” I say looking at them fondly smelling them and inhaling some pollen causing me to sneeze

I can hear them chuckle but I pretend I don’t.

“Uh Ava, this is Jeff my Manager, and Jeff this is Ava, the drummer girl” he introduced us.

“Nice to meet you” I say shaking his hand.

Jeff… he seems different than I thought. He’s.. welcoming. And has got a warm radiance in general.

“Let’s get a table?”

Everyone nods in agreement as we get seated on the table.

Oh and try is is Elena, my bestfriend and the guitarist of this band.

We all get seated and order a round of drinks.

“So Ava, what do you do? You a drummer of this band?”

“No actually.. Korid, their drummer is sick so I’m just covering for him. I’m actually a cop”

“A cop” Harry raises his eyebrows

“Well not exactly. But low key yes”

“That sounds very important”

“I mean it has its ups and downs” I say laughing

“So we definitely would love and I mean this in a way that if we have you as an employee, we’d go places we couldn’t reach before” said Jeff stepping in.

“Having you in the Love Band, would be like a miracle”

By looking at my unsure face he begins again “And we’re ready to negotiate. If you’re willing to still be a cop and do both at the same time, we’re ready to adjust”

The minute he said that it was like every problem in my world had been resolved. Not literally but the main pressing issue had been.

“I’m listening” you say with a wide smirk looking at Harry knowing that he knows that the deal is established and closed.

“We would love for you to come to the studio, we can talk terms, legalities, your pay and everything else”

I look at Elena for confirmation as if I was hesitating. Which I was. This was a huge step. Good for me but regardless a huge step. She nodded at me holding my hand making sure I knew that she supported me an thought that this was good for me.

“Alright. I’m in”

The minute I said that I could see Harry’s face light up like a damn glowstick. He had an expression I couldn’t quite decode but he was definitely happy and satisfied. And so was I. I’ve dreamed of this moment, infact even written fanfics about this moment for years. And this mine couldn’t compare to either of them.

We talked for a bit, decided that I’d come over to the studio tomorrow to close the deal and meet the rest of the bandmates. I exchanged numbers with Jeff as we bid our goodbyes. What surprised me was that Harry asked me for a picture. With him. He was the star! It sounded absolutely ridiculous. He knew I was thinking that but we clicked a picture anyways. As it turns out, it was his plan all along.

“Could you send me that picture?”

“I don’t have your contact”

“That’s alright you can give me yours, I’ll text you” he said with subtle smirk and smug look on his face.

“Uhm yeah” I say as he hands his phone to me.

We bid our goodbyes, and I head home. The second I enter my flat, my phone rings, notifying me of a text.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he gave me White Daises. It was a little too good to be a coincidence. But there’s no way he have known, right?

The minute I enter my flat I get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: “Drummer Girl 😉” I like it

I can’t help but smile at it. He’d think I wouldn’t notice him referring to me as the drummer girl. But putting that as my contact name in his phone probably just proved it

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader

[sarelcon]

EVA Foam Detailing

Since I’m currently working on a new panel for EVA foam detailing, sharing an abbreviated version of this so that I actually have some posts on my account. This is definitely not a complete list of every technique that could work, but these are ones that I have used before and found to be quite useful.

Sanding

This is probably the most well-known technique for detailing. A rotary tool is a must-have for working with EVA foam since it’s such a versatile tool. A basic sanding drum is great for beveling edges or carving in battle-damage and weathering. Grinding stone tips can smooth and even out sanding. Depending on how the tips are angled on the surface, you can create a hammered metal look, soft leather-like crinkles, or circles that look like screws or bolts. Sanding is also the single best way to clean up rough seams. Be sure to wear a respirator and eye protection when sanding since the foam will generate a LOT of dust. You will your workspace will get covered with dust.

Burning

A soldering iron or wood burning iron can be used for detailing. These hot tools can be used to engrave precise or geometric lines or can be used to create a feather texture. These can also be used to make more organic textures like wood grain. Very much like a rotary tool, a wood burning or soldering iron has endless possibilities only limited by creativity. The foam can be easily burned through, especially when it is a thinner sheet (1-3 mm). Burning foam creates very nasty fumes so be sure to work outside with a respirator on.

Heat stamping

This is a more subtle technique but can still be very useful. The most common application is using crumpled tin foil to make a leather texture. Once foam has been heated up evenly (using a heat gun), it can pick up the texture of anything pressed against it.

Google eyes

For a cheap and easy way to get rivets or bolts, try using googly eyes. Once these are painted over, they can blend in perfectly (just don’t shake the armor or prop because they will rattle). Though real rivets can be used (that is my next point), googly eyes are easy to install and are very easy to find in a variety of sizes. These can be glued down with pretty much any type of glue.

Metal hardware

If authenticity is the goal, eyelets and rivets can be installed into EVA foam. The key to these is leather hole punches. You can buy these either as a pack of hole punchers or as a single tool that operates a lot like a paper hole puncher. For real leather or fabric, these are normally hammered into the material to generate a hole. Because EVA foam is so soft, a twisting motion works better for cutting a hole without crushing the surface. Eyelets will require a bit of glue but rivets have two separate ends that snap together nicely without any adhesive. O rings and metal buckles can also help with making realistic-looking armor.

Foam clay

Foam clay is an obsession of mine, but I have to admit that it is a detailing material and only works for specific tasks. Foam clay is great for adding organic textures like bone, monster skin, etc. It can be free sculpted some, but is limited due to being such a soft clay. It sticks to EVA foam without any glue required. It can be sanded or burned once it is completely dry to add more texture. It can be used to fill deep gaps in seams. It can also be pressed into molds.

Pre-cut bevels and scales

With cosplay becoming more common and mainstream, specialty products are readily available. Bevels are pre-cut strips of foam that can be used as trim. They most often come as half-round or triangular though some shops may carry less common shapes like low profile triangles or trapezoids. Scales are another great pre-fabricated material that can be bought from cosplay supply shops. They are sometimes sold as individual scales in packs of 50-100 or as scales attached to a strip.

Primer manipulation

I just recently discovered this technique while making Gyurato’s blood sickles. When using a brush on primer that has a slower drying time, it can be manipulated while still wet. Pressing something like upholstery foam or a sponge into the primer can add additional rough texture. I also used plastic wrap to add creases and wrinkles to the surface of the dried foam clay. Another thing to keep in mind with primers is that the finish (satin, matte, gloss) can change out a paint looks. Picking the right sheen, like gloss when painting a metallic, can help with achieving the right effect.

Hopefully these tips give you some ideas for future projects.

#cosplay making #cosplay #cosplay tutorial #evafoam #cosplay armor #cosplay props #cosplay tips #foamsmith

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Lovefool

Written By: Peter Svensson & Nina Persson

Artist: The Cardigans

Released: 1996

“Lovefool” is track #7 on The Cardigans’s third album First Band on the Moon. “Lovefool” was the song that propelled The Cardigans to international stardom. US listeners took notice when it was featured on the soundtrack to Baz Luhrmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. The song topped the Billboard Hot 100 Airplay and Top 40 Mainstream, but was kept from the Hot 100 because it was not issued as a commercial single (until December 1998, songs were not eligible to chart on the Hot 100 until they got released as single in the US). Nina Persson penned the lyrics for this song, while Peter Svensson wrote the music. Nina was sitting in an airport waiting for a plane when she was inspired to write the song and thought it would have a “slow bossa nova feel.” She told The Swedish Performing Rights Society: “I do find that the biggest hits are the ones that are the easiest to write”. Peter recalled writing the music for this song in an interview with The Independent: “To me, that song is still that moment when I wrote it in a small room, sitting on my bed in our home town. It was supposed to be some kind of a bossa nova: a totally different song, slow and mellow and sad. The production on it, though, and the disco drums made it all shinier."

[Verse 1] Dear, I fear we're facing a problem You love me no longer, I know and Maybe there is nothing that I can do To make you do Mama tells me I shouldn't bother That I ought just stick to another man A man that surely deserves me But I think you do [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you [Verse 2] Lately I have desperately pondered Spent my nights awake and I wonder What I could have done in another way To make you stay Reason will not reach a solution I will end up lost in confusion I don't care if you really care As long as you don't go [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you (Anything but you) [Outro] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me I know that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you

Summertime

Written By: Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Gerard Way & Frank Iero

Artist: My Chemical Romance

Released: 2010

“Summertime” is a ‘new wave’ song, allegedly believed to be written about frontman Gerard Way’s wife, Lyn-z Way. In an interview, Gerard said that it started as a riff Mikey had written, before evolving into a song they ‘couldn’t have the record without.’ “[“Summertime”] is one of the lyrically personal songs on the album, whereas the rest of it is just me talking about my worldview. So it’s a really beautiful song and again—no rules. We can have a soft song.”

[Verse 1] When the lights go out Will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down In crowded rooms and highways I call home? Is something I can't know till now Till you picked me off the ground With brick in hand, your lip-gloss smile Your scraped-up knees and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Verse 2] Terrified of what I'd be As a kid, from what I've seen Every single day when people try And put the pieces back together Just to smash them down Turn my headphones up real loud I don't think I need them now 'Cause you stop the noise and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Post-Chorus] Well, anytime you want Well, anytime you want [Guitar Solo] [Bridge] Don't walk away, don't walk away Don't walk away, don't walk away! [Chorus] 'Cause if you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me [Post-Chorus] Or you can write it on your arm You can run away with me Anytime you want

#lovefool #the cardigans #summertime #my chemical romance #polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round3

[novankenn]

Dead Man Walking

Jaune gave Pyrrha a nervous smile., he knew that look and what it exactly meant. Swallowing, and remembering that Yang was now also out to get him… he decided he had nothing left to lose so...

Ren: Jaune, you have to discharge your weapon.

As Pyrrha glared, Ruby sniffled and Yang fumed, Jaune shouldered his rifle.

Ren: RANGE GOING HOT… COMMENCE FIRING!

The R101 kicked to life, and aside from one manual clear, performed almost perfectly.

Ren: MAKE SAFE… Jaune what are you doing?

Jaune reached down into his ammo bag and pulled out a 100 round dual drum mag.

--== Table of Contents ==--

#100 word drabble #rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #crescent rose #milo & akouo

[comtedelafere]

So I just read this afternoon that Ray Stevenson has died at the age of 58 (which is absolutely no age, the poor fella, what a shock).

I'm not gonna pretend to know much about his back catalogue of work or say I was an especial fan or anything disingenuous like that, but I do really want to talk for a quick moment about the one role I really know and love him for - Porthos in the 2011 adaptation of The Three Musketeers.

Now, I know and you know that this version of The Musketeers is massively unpopular for a whole host of reasons - most notably the silly airship storyline (personally, I have such a well-trained suspension of disbelief that I can 100% deal with the airship aspect of it, but I totally get why it's an unpopular addition to the story) - but I will happily die on the hill that it is the closest combination of writing and portrayal of the Core Four yet (sorry, BBC version). Logan Lerman's d'Artagnan was a cheeky 19-year-old rascal who thought he was all that and a bag of chips and didn't care who knew it. Matthew Macfadyen's Athos was sullen and morose (but in a really hot way obvs, cos yknow - Athos) and didn't waste a word of dialogue. Luke Evans' Aramis was quiet, sober, extremely spiritual and didn't go around trying to seduce everything that moved the whole time.

But Ray Stevenson's Porthos? Oh. Oh this was sublime. Up until this adaptation, Porthos had more often than not been played as the comic relief: the large, overweight, affable drunk of no fixed IQ whose prowess at fighting was more down to luck and subtle slapstick than his good judgement. This version of Porthos couldn't have been further away from those portrayals.

He was a quick-witted, smart, physically powerful and agile fighter, whose hand-to-hand combat skills were so notorious that he never needed to use his sword. My absolute favourite moment that showed this fact so beautifully was at the end of the big fight scene with the Red Guards ("Four against FORTY? And you beat them like a drum?! *snort*!" oh, Louis!) when the Guards were reeling a bit, and trying to decide whether to go another round. At that point, Porthos casually pushed his sword from the scabbard with his thumb by about 2 inches - and that was enough to send the Red Guards running for the hills!! I screamed!! Perfect characterisation!! Porthos to an absolute T!!!!!

Not only that, but his version of Porthos was an unashamed yet impoverished dandy, a dedicated follower of fashion who took his time to choose exactly the right cut of new clothes in exactly the right colours - while his rich, married lover happily picked up the tab for him. He understood the way the right clothes and the right combination of appearance and demeanour in any given scenario could give him the upper hand, not only in fighting but also in all of his interpersonal relationships and encounters.

This is the Porthos I had wanted for years. This is the Porthos I cheered and applauded for when I finally saw the version that had lived in my head all those years had finally made it to the screen.

Don't get me wrong, of course the BBC Musketeers owns a huge part of my heart and soul and I love so much about them - but the 2011 Musketeers was so special because for me it was probably the very first time I finally got to see the Musketeers as the book described them, rather than just as the standard accepted carbon copies that had been passed down by Hollywood over the decades, and which bear little to no resemblance to the actual characters in the book. I have no idea if I've actually seen any of Ray's other performances or not, to be honest. Porthos may not be his finest hour onscreen, I really don't know. It may not be the part he's best known for. But if nothing else, Ray finally gave the world a Porthos that Dumas would have recognised.

Despite the fact the film as a whole was received poorly, his portrayal was a genuine gift, and I am privileged to be able to remember him as having given this Musketeer fangirl the abject joy of finally seeing Porthos played as he should have been all along. Not as a large, loud drunk who was just there to be big, strong and funny - but as a highly skilled, intelligent, audacious soldier with a sharp sense of humour and an even sharper dress sense; and who, rather than simply bringing up the rear as The Other Guy or the Big Fella, showed that he was quite possibly the Musketeers' MVP.

Thank you, Ray. Goodnight, and rest well.

#ray stevenson #porthos #the three musketeers #the three musketeers 2011 #rip #tw: death #tw: dead mention

[captain-price-unofficially]

Captured MG08/15 "light" machine gun, with its detachable 100-round drum.

#wwi #western front (wwi) #european theater

[ltwilliammowett]

Expensive signals

During the 17th century the giving of salutes by warships became so excessive and wasted so much gunpowder that it placed a real financial burden on the England of Charles II. Ridiculous as it may seem the gunners resorted to their weapons every time every time anyone went ashore, and if it should be a lady the sailors would fire 7 guns and play a tune on the drums. In 1675 a merchant ship in the Thames failed to give an adequate salute to a man o'war, whereupon the warship fired a shot at her to make her stop and apologize. On this occasion, the gunner went aboard and fined the merchant captain six schillings and six pence for the cost of the powder.

British Man o'war with other shipping at anchor, by John Thomas Serres (1759–1825) (x)

The matter of wasting powder was raised in the House of Commons. Apparently East Indianmen meeting English warships in the Channel had to salute with 7 guns, while the man o'war replied with 5. At Plymouth Castle each man o'war saluted with 9 guns, the castle replied with the same and then the warship fired 3 more to express its thanks. And so it went on.

An English Captain named Holden, invited to dinner on one of the ships he was escorting to Tangier, was given a 5 gun salute when he left her, to which he replied with 3, apparently on the basis that between Englishmen the vote of thanks required two guns less. But with foreigners the English insisted on having a reply to a salute with the same number of guns. When one Venetian ship saluted an English vessel with 11 guns, she was snubbed with a reply of just 5. On the King's birthday every ship in the fleet - and there were hundreds, large and small - fired 13 guns. When one British admiral entered Malta the Knights of St. Johns gave him a 45 gun salute, lasting two hours. Every English ship then replied with 21.

On the St. George's Day, after the King's health had been drunk, every ship in the fleet fired 25 rounds. And if a ship's captain should die his gunners might fire anything between 40 and 100 rounds. It was an expensive folly which imposed an unnecessary burden on the fragile economy of the Stuart state- but it must have been fun. Unfortunately, this fun was curtailed in the course of the 18th century.

#naval history #gunpowder #gun salutes #17th century #age of sail

[goodbyeapathy8]

On this Valentine's Day, 2024, I'd like to share 3 love poems with you. It may not be obvious why these are love poems but please stick around to the end and I promise it'll make sense.

1. "If We Must Die" - Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursèd lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

2. "When the day comes" - Shim Hoon

when the day comes when it comes that even mount Samgak may rise and dance the river Han will writhe, alive, like a dragon that day

that it may come before my life ends with the crows that fly at night I will aim at Chongno bell and ring it. even if that should splinter my skull but what han should remain after that joy.

that that day comes o! that day comes I shall cry and laugh and roll on the large road in front of Yookjo

and still should that not be enough I should take a knife to make a leather of my skin to turn it into a large drum to wear at the front of the joyful procession.

should I hear that ringing sound just once I could close my eyes without regrets.

3. "If I Must Die" - Refaat Alareer

If I must die, you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who left in a blaze — and bid no one farewell not even to his flesh not even to himself — sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above, and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love. If I must die let it bring hope, let it be a story.

The first two poems were written in 1919, on opposite sides of the world. Claude McKay was a young Jamaican Black man, writing about the oppression against Black people while Shim Hoon was a young Korean man, writing about the Japanese oppression against Koreans.

A little over 100 years later, a poet named Refaat Alareer would pen his last work in December of 2023, in Falasteen.

Yes - these are poems of love.

Love for a people, oppressed and hated by many.

Love for self, to document their current fight, for the future generation.

And none of these three people may be your direct ancestors but they are people who have gone ahead of us, walking a slightly different path, offering their words to us as a legacy. To remember what we fight for, to remember the hope in the future, for those of us that survive long enough to see it. Even if they may not.

I know there are so many horrors we have witnessed. Not just in Falasteen but in Sudan, in Congo, in Myanmar, and countless other places - in the name of oppression and greed and capitalism and colonization and imperialism.

But I hope these three poems serve as a reminder of what we are doing and why we are doing it.

Sending love to everyone.

-- *Translator's note - Shim Hoon's poem is a direct translation by me. Please do not repost the translation without credit.

#poetry #claude mckay #korean poem #korean history #falasteen #stop the genocide #free gaza #not sure how many people will see this #but i hope it gets to those who need it

[fruitcoops]

omg eve would you ever consider doing one of those lie detector videos for the cubs? i just reread the coops one and it made me laugh so hard -aj

@oknutzyweek Prompt #3: Strategy II Risk! Cubs belong to @lumosinlove, and the first lie detector fic is here with Coops <3

Round #1: Basic Questions

“We’re back,” Finn singsonged, drumming on the table. The wires taped to his hands rattled, making the blue-shirted man by the polygraph wince.

Leo kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I get great joy from pushing your buttons.”

The man in blue raised his eyebrows. “True. Bold of you to admit that right off the bat.”

“Welcome to Lion Pride, please run while you still can,” Logan said around a laugh as he looked toward the camera. “I’m Logan Tremblay, and I’m here with my boyfriends Finn O’Hara and Leo Knut for a lie detector test. Mark is not only a polygraph expert but also a brave, brave man.”

“Would you consider yourselves good liars?” Mark asked.

“God no,” Finn huffed.

Leo shrugged. “I’m decent.”

“I really hate liars,” Logan said with a frown. “It never works well for anyone.”

“I like you,” Mark said appreciatively without looking away from his setup. “Ready?”

Finn leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Hit me.”

Logan whipped around and slammed his hand on the table, making them jump. “Did you eat my chocolate orange?”

“No!”

“False,” Mark said.

“I fucking knew it!”

Finn muttered a curse before turning to Logan with a silent plea in his eyes. “How can I make it up to you?”

Leo gave the camera an exasperated look while Logan took a moment to contemplate. “Un bisou sur ma joue.”

Finn glanced to Leo, who tapped his cheek; understanding dawned and Logan received his light kiss with a smile as well. “Forgiven?”

“Ouais.”

Leo shuffled his notecards in visible amusement. “Harzy, do you actually enjoy getting up early?”

“Kind of.”

“Yes or no,” Mark reminded him.

“…yes,” he said after a long moment, though he didn’t sound very sure. “Yeah, I do. I don’t like leaving bed early, but I like how much I can get done if I’m up.”

“True.”

A teasing smile flickered across Logan’s lips. “Should I grow my hair ou—”

“Please,” Finn said before he could finish. “Yes, yup, 100% you should grow your hair out.”

Mark snorted. “I don’t think I even have to tell you that’s true.”

Leo batted his lashes, leaning closer to Finn with an innocent smile. “Last question. Did you honestly forget to pick up my spices at the store or did you do it on purpose because you don’t like spicy food there is a correct answer here and you are not subtle.”

Finn blanched. On his other side, Mark had to turn away slightly to stifle his laughter. “I…”

“Go on,” Leo prompted as Logan’s grin grew wider.

“Yes,” Finn sighed, defeated. “Though I did go back and get them later.”

“That’s true,” Mark confirmed.

“Alright, shift change.” Leo helped him peel the sticky pads off and swapped spots, settling into the chair before folding both hands on the table. “Shoot.”

“Have you worn your Invisalign at all this week?”

“God damn it, O’Hara,” he said under his breath as Finn and Logan burst out laughing. “No, I have not, and fuck you for pointing it out!”

Mark nodded. “True.”

Logan’s chair creaked when he lounged back in it. “Do you like being the big spoon or little spoon more?”

“Hmm, big spoon.”

“Unclear,” Mark said, squinting at the screen. “Not the whole truth, but not a lie.”

Leo furrowed his brows in confusion. “I mean, I still like being the little spoon. The middle is obviously the best.”

“True.”

Logan nodded. “Can confirm. Do you think you’re the most handsome of the three of us?”

“No.”

“That’s also true,” Mark agreed.

Finn whistled lowly, his interest piqued. “Zero hesitation. Okay, followup: who do you think is the most handsome of the three of us?”

“Neither of you need to know that information,” Leo laughed.

“Would you rather…” Logan paused, raising his eyebrows with a small kick to Leo’s shin. “Spend the day with us, or Regulus?”

“Can I spend multiple days with Regulus instead of you?”

“Hey!” Finn said indignantly, straightening as Leo snickered. “Regulus doesn’t make you coffee! Regulus doesn’t cuddle you!”

“Reg is more fun than the two of you combined.”

The corner of Mark’s mouth quirked up. “False.”

“Man, c’mon,” Leo complained as Finn and Logan turned for a double high-five. “I’m trying to control the ego in this room. I have a strategy.”

“You love us too much for strategies,” Logan said, grinning and smug.

“Final Knutty question: should the three of us get matching tattoos?”

Leo thought for a moment, tilting his head from side to side. “Yeah, I think it would be cute. Something cringey and couple-y. Throuple-y?”

“I’m not going to bother with deciding terminology, but he was telling the truth,” Mark said, dutifully moving aside as Leo and Logan switched seats and equipment. “Ready?”

Despite the answering “ouais”, Logan looked distinctly uncomfortable. Finn tapped his notecards on the table. “Logan Marius Tremblay, where is my Harvard hat?”

Logan carefully schooled his face into neutrality. “Probably in your closet.”

“That’s a lie,” Mark said.

“Did you leave it in one of the cabinets?”

“Nope.”

Finn kept his eyes fixed on Logan; the only sign Logan even noticed was a slight twitch of his fingertips. “Then I have no idea.”

“He’s still lying.”

“You’re getting that hat back over my dead body.”

“Or,” Leo said mildly, kicking his feet up on the lowest rung of Finn’s chair. “You could, you know, check the one hiding place Logan has. The singular place in our entire apartment.”

“You are not endearing yourself here, mon amour.”

A soft kiss to the back of his hand brought a faint blush to Logan’s stoic face and Leo grinned. “Do you wish I could grow a playoff beard?”

That got a real laugh out of Logan, cracking the façade as his eyes crinkled. “Non, but I do think it’s very funny that you’re still out of luck.”

Mark nodded while Leo rolled his eyes. “True.”

“Which of us is the cleaner roommate?”

“Oh, god,” Logan muttered, propping his chin in his hand as he thought. “I don’t know. Are we talking about actual cleaning, or organizing?”

“Cleaning.”

“Then it’s Finn.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Am I more organized?”

“Finn had the same set of organizing bins under his bed for four years and they were in the same packaging, untouched, that entire time. You color code your calendar. So, yes.”

Round #2: Personal Questions

“Starting off strong for this one,” Leo warned. “Do you approve of your brother’s partners?”

“Yes,” Finn answered immediately.

“That’s true,” Mark confirmed.

Logan cast a mischievous look at the camera before reading his next notecard. “Which of us—Leo and I—has better taste in music.”

“Fuck,” Finn said under his breath with great feeling.

“There will be no adverse side effects to your answer,” Leo promised with an expression that said the exact opposite. “Though I advise you to keep in mind that I’m making dinner tonight.”

“That so deserves a penalty.” Finn pushed a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, then blew out a breath. “Oh, god, I can’t pick.”

“False.”

He groaned, loud enough that Leo and Logan turned to each other with matching devilish smiles. “Fuck. Okay. Logan has better music, but only because I really don’t like most country songs.”

“True.”

“Strike one,” Leo coughed, making Finn’s brows pitch in distress.

“I’ll give you a softball here,” Logan promised. “Do you think you’re the most impulsive of the three of us?”

“Nope.”

Mark made a noise of surprise. “True.”

A spark of curiosity lit on Leo’s face. “Who is the most impulsive?”

“You, obviously.”

“Also true.”

“Wow.” Leo nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I would’ve gone with Mr. ‘Serial Kiss and Ditch’, but alright.”

“Mr. Serial Kiss and Ditch didn’t join the NHL at 18 or eat a whole chili pepper a millisecond after someone told him not to, but okay,” Logan snorted.

The seat swap went quicker than before—they were all getting into the swing of it, and within moments Leo had gotten comfortable in the chair despite the chest band and wires to the polygraph. His soft smile vanished the moment Finn asked the first question. “Which of our siblings do you like better?”

“Aw, shit, really?” Leo let out an unhappy huff and his forehead creased. “I don’t know Sydney and Aubrey that well, and I don’t think Alex likes me very much after last game, so…I guess Noelle wins.”

The polygraph made a quiet ticking noise. “True.”

“She adores you, so it’s a mutual feeling,” Logan assured him. “Tougher question: which of your parents do you like more?”

“Why did Harzy get all the easy ones?” he complained. “That’s so unfair. I don’t have a favorite.”

Mark cocked a brow. “False.”

“Dude.” Leo thought for another moment, then shook his head. “Not answering that. Too risky. Next question.”

“Can I answer that one for him?” Finn teased. “Okay, last one for this set: are you happy on the Lions?”

Leo’s distress faded away; his honesty was written all over his face. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with this team.”

“That’s true. Glad to hear it.”

Logan dropped a kiss to the top of his head while Leo detached the polygraph measures and ran an absent hand across his upper back before they switched seats. Finn watched them with a small smile, his eyes warm and bright behind his glasses. “Is this the last section?”

“There’s one more after this for extremely personal questions.” Logan scrunched his nose in distaste before nodding to Finn. “Did you hang your towel up this morning after you took a shower?”

“Yes.”

“False.”

“Mark, I really need at least one person on my side here.”

Leo grinned. “Do you like your sisters better than us?”

“Right now? Yes.”

Mark frowned. “Another one in the middle. Try to be firm.”

“I like them equally, for different reasons.”

“Do you have a favorite sister?”

“I like my sisters more than you.”

“Now it’s true,” Mark chuckled as Leo stuck his tongue out.

“This is vengeance for the music question,” Finn informed him. “Do you like the Dumais better than your Canada family?”

“My Canada family?” Logan laughed. “All of us are Canadian.”

“Hey, whatever works best.”

Logan shook his head, though he looked more amused than anything. “No, I think my parents and sisters take the cake here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love the Dumais, or that I’m not grateful for them all the time.”

Round #3: Extremely Personal Questions

“Do you think I’m too young for you?”

“Jesus!” Finn spluttered, turning to Leo with wide eyes. “What? No. Is that really what you’re opening with?”

Leo shrugged. “Figured we’d get it out of the way before people start bugging us in the comments.”

“No, I don’t think a four and a half year age difference makes you too young for me. I also think you’re mature enough to make your own reasonable decisions about who you date.”

“He’s definitely telling the truth,” Mark confirmed.

Logan nudged Finn’s foot under the table. “Which of us is nicer?”

“Knutty.”

“True.”

“But you can both be real assholes sometimes.”

Mark stifled a laugh. “Also true.”

“This is the most personal one yet, and possibly the most dangerous.” Leo set his elbows on the table and looked Finn dead in the eye. “Who makes better coffee, me or Logan?”

“You both make terrible coffee, which is why you have me.”

“That’s true.”

Logan scowled. “You love my coffee!”

“Sure, if I need to be awake for 36 straight hours,” Finn snorted. “And Nutter Butter, I love you, but water that has briefly looked at a coffee bean doesn’t count.”

“Oh, give me that,” Leo grumbled, tugging on one of the wires trailing from Finn’s hand. Finn gave his hips a playful squeeze when he stood to shuffle behind Leo and take his seat, and earned himself a light whack on the chest in return.

Logan cleared his throat, barely holding down a laugh. “In the two years you’ve been on the Lions, have you seen every player naked?”

Leo did a double take, then hesitated and tilted his head to the side. “You know, I—hmm.”

“Oh, wow, you’re really thinking about this.”

“I’m trying to be honest!” He bit his lower lip. “Uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Fuck, when did I see—” He stopped with a snort, covering his mouth with one hand. “Nope, I definitely have. It’s not something I think about much, to be honest.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you actually have insomnia…” Finn paused for effect and Leo gave him an incredulous look. “…or do you just like it when Lo rubs your back?”

“I have chronic insomnia and also like it when my boyfriend rubs my back. They’re not mutually exclusive. You of all people should know the benefits of not making black and white decisions.”

“That’s fair, I’ve never chosen anything in my life, ever,” Finn agreed.

“Blondie was telling the truth,” Mark said as the polygraph whirred.

Blondie, Logan mouthed, making Leo blush before he read the last question. “Do you want a house in the next five years, or are you happy in the apartment?”

“I love our apartment but I want a house in the next one year, preferably,” Leo laughed. “We don’t have enough space and the shower is too short for me.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Logan’s lips ticked up at the side. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a fucking giant.”

“And maybe you’d understand better if you weren’t microscopic, shortcake.” Logan’s mouth fell open at the icy coolness of Leo’s voice and Finn looked between them like he was watching a particularly intense tennis match. Leo grinned. “Batter up.”

“Shortcake,” Logan muttered while he stuck the sensors on. “Was that necessary?”

“All I want is a shower where I don’t have to bend down so far,” Leo said simply, though impish mischief settled in every plane of his face. “Ready to close us out?”

“Ouais.”

“Do you think the fans have make incorrect assumptions about us?”

“The mean ones? Yes. The nice ones? Also yes.”

Mark nodded. “That’s true.”

“How so?”

Logan considered for a few seconds before speaking. “Obviously the mean ones have shit to say about our relationship, and at this point I just tune them out. But the nice ones think I’m a lot more of an asshole than I am, think you’re chasing butterflies and rainbows all day, and give Harzy no credit for being the smartest of all of us.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

“I don’t know about the smartest of all of us,” Finn said, though his ears were pink at the tips.

Logan leveled him with a look. “Harz, you graduated on the Harvard Dean’s List and your senior thesis was published in a literary journal.”

“Tons of people get published—”

“Senior thesis,” Logan interrupted. “In a literary journal that won an award. This is not the time to be humble.”

The pink had spread to Finn’s cheeks and neck. “Can I ask the next question, or do you want to go stand on the roof with a megaphone?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’ve been living with Knutty and I for almost a full year,” Finn continued, shaking his head. “Do you actually enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“True.”

“Do you think our relationship will last?”

Leo’s question hung in the air for several seconds despite his quiet voice; Logan blinked. He looked down at his hands, then back up again. "Well, yeah. It better, or else I’m in big trouble if I want to find anyone that comes even close to you two.”

“That’s very true,” Mark said, watching the polygraph lines trace their course. “Heartfelt, for sure.”

Logan half-smiled and inclined his head to his boys. “I spent eight years loving one of them and plan to spend many more loving both. That’s about as heartfelt as it gets. See you later, Lions. Stay honest.”

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