#concrete and gold tour

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .1

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a young actor moves across the hall from an aspiring ballerina. (college au kinda)

word count: 1562

a/n: i've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a few days and finally got to penning it down -- enjoy!

August 2016

The sun stretched its golden rays across the morning sky in New York City, the last embrace of summer's fading heat lingered in the air. The city bustled under a whispering breeze that carried the promise of change, as tree leaves, once adorned in vibrant green, began their slow transformation into a canvas of crimson and gold. Amidst the streets, a serene anticipation filled the air, capturing the essence of a city transitioning as the summer activities came to a close and the kids were dreading the return to school.

The wheels on Tom's luggage clacked against the cracks and bumps in the concrete sidewalk, bleary and tired eyes scanning between his phone and the address placards on the various condos. He knew he should've taken a cab, but the bus was so much cheaper and Google indicated it was only a five minute walk to his new living quarters anyway.

He finally stopped in front of a brick building, the address placard worn and rusted from the elements but the numbers matched up with that on his itinerary. The other cue that gave it away was the variety of art pieces in windows and hung over bannisters and fire escapes. Tom lugged his bag up the three stone steps and ducked inside.

The lobby was pale, dingy and in dire need of a fresh coat of paint; not to mention the air held hints of mothballs and burnt microwaved popcorn. An older woman was sat behind a desk, reclined in her chair while glazed eyes were focused on her computer screen. Tom approached slowly, hoping his smile could cover the exhaustion hiding in his face.

"Hello,"

The woman's eyes were the last to focus when she turned her head, blinking over her glasses and a warm smile graced her face, "Oh, hello! You must be... erm..." she suddenly grabbed a clipboard and scanned the tiny text, "... Jacob Nielson?" she spoke in the classic Brooklyn accent with exaggerated vowels and nasally undertones.

"No," he shook his head politely, "My name's Tom. Blyth," he replied.

She scanned her list with her pen, gasping aloud when she found his name, "I see, now! Very nice to meet you, my name's Doris -- I'm the super here. You're my renter from London, right?"

"Yeah. Well -- Yorkshire specifically,"

"I didn't do so well in geography, honey. Have mercy," Doris replied as she stood up, heading for the wall of cubbies behind her, "So tell me, which insane asylum are you checking into?"

" -- Excuse me?"

"What school are you attending?" she asked again, her fingers flourishing across the cubbies.

Tom nodded, "I'm starting at Julliard next week. I'm an actor," he replied.

Doris scoffed, "Yeah? You and everybody's dog, honey," she pulled a key from a specific slot and returned to the desk, "But you got a nice face, maybe you'll luck out,"

Tom wasn't sure whether or not he should've taken that as a compliment, so he simply smiled back and accepted the key, "Um, thank you,"

"You're on floor three, room 14. Your roommate should already be moved in, he can give you a tour of the place," she explained, "If you need anything, leaky faucets fixed and whatnot just come down and see me,"

"Thank you, Doris," he took his bag and started for the elevator on the right of the room, but Doris called out to him again.

"Hold on, handsome! Elevator's broke! Hasn't worked since Giuliani was mayor," she pointed to the left, "Stairs are over there,"

Tom huffed under his breath; he was tired and the last thing he wanted was to lug his suitcase up three flights of stairs. Nevertheless, he gave Doris one more polite grin as he started for the staircase.

The sun cast stark patterns across the stairs, the skewed silhouettes of the window panes interrupted by Tom's own shadow as he made his trek up. He hadn't at first registered the thundering of footsteps above him until a group of kids rushed passed him.

"C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" The stairwell was relatively narrow, arms and bodies knocking into Tom until he nearly slipped and his grip loosened on his suitcase. The suitcase went tumbling down the stairs, smacking hard against the opposing wall and the latches burst open. His belongings spilled everywhere.

Tom grumbled to himself, trekking down the stairs again to clean up the mess. One of the kids however hung back, trailing behind her group but she'd witnessed Tom's misfortune. She double backed up the stairs, staring in astonishment at the clothes and knick knacks, then at him.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Tom was crouched over the ground when he looked up, coming face-to-face with the concerned expression of a young brunette. She was lean and petite, dressed down in denim shorts and black tank top. Her converse had two different coloured laces, one red and one yellow. He found that peculiar.

"I'm alright," Tom assured her, "If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, then it's not such a bad day, right?" he tried to laugh it off.

The girl simpered, "Sure," nevertheless she crouched down to help him. One of her friends called out from below.

"Noelle! C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" she shouted.

The girl -- Noelle -- shouted back, "Go ahead, Bianca! I'll catch up with you guys!"

"But the movie starts in an hour! It's take forty five minutes from here, man!"

"It's twenty minutes of previews, anyways!" she turned back to Tom, her cheeks tinting bashfully, "Sorry about that,"

"Don't worry. You should go with your friends, I'll be fine," he replied.

Noelle scoffed, "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"Sure,"

"I hate horror movies,"

Tom smiled, "And lemme' guess: they're going to see a horror movie?"

"Don't Breathe. Some kids break into a blind guy's house and he ends up killing them all and quite frankly -- I can go my whole life without more nightmares," she replied, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"Don't half blame you. I'm not the biggest fan, myself," he said, "Do you live here?"

"Yep. That nutcase shouting at me was my roommate," she replied, "Sorry, I didn't get your name,"

"Tom,"

"Very nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances," she chuckled back.

"Don't worry about it -- Noelle," he grinned.

She helped him clean up and pack his things, leading him back upstairs to his room. He assured her he could manage but Noelle insisted, saying it was the least she could do for his trouble.

"Room 14?" she cocked a brow when he told her, the corners of her lips pulling back to bare her clenched teeth.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Tom asked apprehensively, "I don't have a serial killer for a roommate, right?"

Noelle shook her head, "No, no, you get Sunny. And he's just like his name -- absolute sunshine human being,"

"... I sense there's a 'but' coming," he trailed.

"He's a scholarship violinist, he's brilliant. And he's so brilliant because he practices at all hours of the night," she explained, "... All hours. You might wanna invest in some noise cancelling ear plugs,"

Tom nodded, relieved that at least his new roomie didn't sound like a dickhead, "Thanks for the advice,"

They stopped in front of the door, a worn brass 14 glinting subtly in the light. Tom fished out the key from his pocket, "I guess this is me,"

"Oh, damn," Noelle huffed, glancing at the door across from them, "You get the insane neighbours,"

His eyes flitted between her and the door, "... Whatcha' mean by that?"

Noelle pulled a key from her pocket, "Well, they're dancers for one. So they're always playing music, talking shit, burning their instant noodles because they're half-daft," with that she shoved the key into the lock and twisted, and sure enough the door opened.

Tom glanced at her, sheer amusement crossing over his face. He simpered under his breath, "You're my half-daft dancer neighbour who burns her instant noodles?"

"Unfortunately for you," she confirmed, half smirking.

"And how does one burn their instant noodles?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," she closed and locked the door again, "But I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything at all, you can just pop over,"

"Thank you, Noelle," he smiled, "And thanks again for --" he stopped suddenly when he heard a faint violin melody from the other side of his door. It was a beautiful melody nonetheless, and it had him intrigued, "I suppose that's my roommate?"

Noelle nodded back, "Yep. I promise you, he's a sweetheart," she started walking backwards towards the stairwell, "I'm sorry again about earlier,"

"Don't give it a second thought. Have fun at your movie," he replied.

She giggled sardonically, "Oh trust me, I'll have a blast. I'll see you around, Tom,"

Tom gave her a small wave, watching her until she disappeared around the corner, could hear her shoes squeaking as she trotted down the stairs. He couldn't deny he found her quite a looker, a small part of him giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to know his new neighbour. The violin melody continued to play on the other side of the door, and taking a deep breath for confidence, he pushed the key into the lock and opened the door...

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #original story #original female character #imagine blog

[wilbursoot-updates]

From Across the Pond to Rock the Capital: Lovejoy Takes the Stage

Lovejoy is in this article!

Lovejoy, the sensational British indie band, brought their captivating sounds to The Howard Theater in Washington DC for the grand finale of their exhilarating US tour. Comprised of the immensely talented William Gold (frontman), Ash Kabosu (bass), Joe Goldsmith (guitar), and Mark Boardman (drum), Lovejoy has been making waves in the industry with their captivating hooks and thought-provoking lyrics.

As the last show of their US tour, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation and excitement. However, amidst the frenzy, Lovejoy demonstrated their genuine concern for their fans' well-being. When someone fainted, leading frontman Joe Bates paused the show and ensured the individual received the necessary attention. This act of empathy showcased the band's unwavering dedication to their audience's safety and enjoyment.

Throughout the evening, Lovejoy's magnetic stage presence was amplified by the incredible energy of the crowd. A sea of mini American flags, passionately held by fans, created a vibrant backdrop, symbolizing the strong connection between the band and their American fanbase.

Adding an element of whimsy, a dedicated fan proudly held up a Freddy Fazbear cutout throughout most of the show, adding a playful touch to the performance. Furthermore, the atmosphere was filled with an even greater sense of unity and celebration as many fans proudly displayed pride flags and ace flags, embracing the spirit of Pride Month.

In a delightful surprise, Jay Clayton of the esteemed British anti-folk band Crywank, who had opened for Lovejoy earlier in the evening, joined the stage once again for a heartfelt cover of a Crywank song alongside Lovejoy. This unexpected collaboration highlighted the camaraderie and shared passion between the artists.

As the night progressed, the crowd's adoration for Lovejoy manifested in the form of gifts being thrown towards the stage, a testament to the deep connection forged between the band and their devoted fans.

The setlist, featuring an array of Lovejoy's most beloved tracks, showcased their versatility and showcased their artistry. From the infectious melodies of "Call Me What You Like" and "Taunt," to the poignant and introspective "Portrait of a Blank Slate" and "Concrete," Lovejoy's performance was a dynamic journey through their captivating discography.

The audience's vibrant energy was further reflected in the signs scattered throughout the venue, with the cheeky "DC deez nuts" sign encapsulating the playful banter between Lovejoy and their young and enthusiastic fanbase.

Lovejoy's performance at The Howard Theater was a spellbinding conclusion to their US tour, leaving a lasting impression on both the band and their devoted fans. With their heartfelt music, electrifying stage presence, and undeniable talent, Lovejoy continues to solidify their position as an emerging force in the indie music scene, destined for even greater success in the years to come.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #across the pond tour #washington dc #articles

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - sexual refrences, drug usage

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 9

Matt sent two first-class plane tickets. My father took a leave of absence from his duties in Germany, and we flew off to Los Angeles, where Matt was filming Fun in Acapulco.

We stayed at the Bel Air Sands Hotel, and Matt was the perfect host. He’d pick us up in either a white Rolls-Royce or his famous gold Cadillac and take us on a sightseeing tour along the ocean to Malibu or into Hollywood.

My father was impressed with Matt’s hospitality, but not enough to forget why he was there—to talk about my education and my future at Graceland. Matt didn’t want to jeopardize the deal they had already made, and every time my father brought up my schooling, Matt would find a Hollywood landmark to point out.

“And over there, Captain,” he said, changing the subject as we cruised down Hollywood Boulevard, “is Grauman’s Chinese Theater. I’m sure you’ve heard of that. If you get out here, you can see all the stars of your era, their handprints and footprints. There’s Betty Grable, you remember her, don’t you? Marilyn Monroe, Kennedy’s friend, and if you look hard enough, you might spot Trigger’s hoofprint.” As my father stepped out of the car, Matt added, “I don’t think MacArthur’s are there yet, but I’m working on it.” We all laughed at the incongruity of General MacArthur bending over the wet concrete next to Jane Russell.

After a few days, my father and I flew to Boston and he and James enrolled me in the school Matt had chosen, Immaculate Conception, an all-girls high school, while Matt himself remained in L.A. to finish the film.

Before I left, he assured me that he’d be home soon and that he’d see me in a few weeks.

Matt and I planned to live together at Graceland eventually, but we’d told my parents that I would be staying with James and Angela, so when I arrived in Boston, I moved into their home. James assured my father that I’d be in good hands and not to worry.

The concerned look on my father’s face moved me. It was such a helpless look filled with doubts and fears about whether he was making the right decision. Only time would tell. He returned to Germany and I settled into my new routine.

In the beginning James drove me to and from school, where word of my identity soon leaked out. As I walked down the hallway, heads would turn and whispers would start. Once, a note that was being passed in study hall ended up on the floor. I saw my name on it and picked it up.

“Her name’s y/n,” I read. “She’s supposed to be Matt Sturniolo’s new girlfriend. If we make friends with her, maybe she’ll introduce us to him. Oh, God, wouldn’t that be neat!”

I didn’t know who the writer was, but I couldn’t mistake the meaning. The friendly smiles concealed intentions to get to Matt through me. Consequently, I was afraid to get close to anyone at school, and began to feel lonely and unhappy.

Living with James and Angela was also difficult. I felt out of place in their home, and did not want to be an intrusion in their personal life. I began spending more time with Grandma at Graceland, often staying all night, and gradually, almost unnoticed, I began to move in my things. By the time Matt suggested that I move into Graceland, I already had.

But living on “the hill,” as we called it, was isolated. The only people there were Grandma and the maids, and during the day, the secretaries, Becky Yancy and Patsy Sturniolo. Patsy was Matt’s double first cousin (her mother was Mary Lou’s sister and her father was James’s brother) and also served as James’s confidante. We were close, and after school I would go into the office to talk with her and Becky. But James felt my visits kept the girls from working and finally he put a sign on the door specifying: no one belongs in the office unless they work there, or have an appointment. I knew that meant me too, so I curtailed my visits.

There were other restrictions. I was told that I couldn’t have girlfriends over because strangers weren’t allowed in the house. One day, I was severely criticized for sitting under the trees on the front lawn. I was playing with Honey, the poodle Matt had given me for Christmas, when a friend of Angela’s drove up and told me that I was making a public display of myself.

Even at school, I felt restricted because James was still chauffeuring me there and back. Without my own car, I couldn’t leave the school grounds to take a drive at lunch or when my classes were cut short. At last I asked James if I could use Matt’s Lincoln Mark V and reluctantly, he agreed.

That evening I went for a drive. With the radio blaring and the windows wide open I sped down Highway 51 South, enjoying my newfound independence. I pulled up in front of Patsy Sturniolo’s house and said, “Hop in. Let’s go for a drive.”

Patsy introduced me to Leonard’s Drive-In, where we would spend at least one night a week when we didn’t go bowling or to a movie. But I went out less frequently when the two hundred dollars that my father had given me rapidly began slipping through my fingers. Matt had assured my father not to worry about money, that if I needed any, his father would give it to me. So, with gas added to my expenses, I had no choice but to approach James, as Matt had instructed me.

Hesitantly I walked into his office. I was nervous about talking to James, who had a sharp tongue and said exactly what he thought. Finally I said, “Mr. Sturniolo, I was wondering if I could have some money. I’m spending a lot on gas, which doesn’t leave much for anything else.”

“How much do you think you need?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I  . . . I don’t know,” I stammered.

He thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, I’ll give you thirty-five dollars. How does that sound?”

Thirty-five dollars sounded fine at the moment, but it didn’t go very far, not with movie tickets, gas, and clothes to buy. Two weeks later I asked him for money to go out with Patsy.

“Hot damn,” he snapped. “Didn’t I just give you thirty-five dollars?”

“That was two weeks ago, Mr. Sturniolo. I can’t stretch it any further than that.”

He stared angrily at me and then his face softened.

“Well, I guess things can get pretty expensive,” he said, counting out another thirty-five dollars. “Now you and Patsy be careful driving out there. You know there’s a lot of accidents on that highway. Why don’t you call me when you get to the theater?”

At the time his caution surprised me, but remembering what Matt had said about Mary Lou, I knew that this was also typical of the rest of the Sturniolos. They always felt better if you called when you arrived at your destination and again before you left for home.

Matt phoned later that evening. In the course of the conversation he asked, “How are you doing on cash, Baby?”

“Funny you should ask that,” I said, mentioning his father’s reaction when I asked for money.

Matt started laughing. “That’s my dad. He’s always been tight. Getting money from him is worse than going to the local bank, even if you’ve got good credit. That’s why I have him taking care of my bills. Every penny’s accounted for. I wouldn’t trust anybody else. Too many thieves. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to him.”

I ended up laughing too. Matt’s sense of humor was contagious. He laughed about things that often wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, yet anyone around him would usually end up laughing too.

Unfortunately, Matt forgot to speak to his father. Rather than ask for handouts, I resolved to earn my own money. I began modeling part-time at a boutique near Graceland. When I told Matt about my job, he said, “You’re gonna have to give it up.”

“But I’m enjoying it,” I said.

“It’s either me or a career, Baby. Because when I call you, I need you to be there.”

I quit the modeling job the next day, which left me with very little to do. I started spending even more time in Grandma’s room. I liked being with her. She was always in her favorite chair, ready to share her loving stories about Matt.

Most of them dealt with his early years and the family’s struggle against poverty. Suffering and worry seemed to be the very fabric of Sturniolo’s lives. Any time Matt failed to call home for two days in a row, they worried that something terrible had happened to him in California. Matt’s enormous success and wealth notwithstanding, they were convinced that some misfortune was going to snatch it all away from them. Sometimes all this talk of suffering depressed me.

My only relief was Patsy Sturniolo, and I went to her every chance I got. But then Grandma complained that she was being neglected. She reminded me that Matt’s old girlfriends used to stay with her every single night he was gone. Torn, I couldn’t wait for Matt’s return.

I anxiously waited for his call. It usually came in the early evening.

“Hi, Baby. How’s my girl?” he asked, his voice bright and full of energy.

Happy to hear from him, I said, “I’m fine, Matt.” I tried to mention how lonely I was, but he cut in. “It won’t be long, Baby. Just a few more weeks, and we’ll be wrapping up.”

“I’m glad. I’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Well, then, let me hear some enthusiasm.” He began describing a silly incident that had taken place on the set that day, trying to make me laugh.

I wanted to say, “Matt, talk to me, help me get through these new experiences.” But I realized that he didn’t want to hear about my problems. He felt he had enough of his own. When he asked me how I was doing, I became very animated and said, “Just great, Matt. Everything is wonderful.”

But when we hung up, I still felt an emptiness. I began counting the days until he came home.

After several delays Matt finished Fun in Acapulco and headed back to Graceland. Still afraid of flying, he traveled with the entourage in his huge, custom-built bus, the same one we’d taken to Vegas the year before. At every stop he called Graceland with a progress report. “I’m in Flagstaff now,” he said. “Only a few more days and I’ll be home. How’s my Little Girl doing?”

With each day’s phone call I became increasingly excited. I awaited Matt’s arrival with open arms and a big smile.

Finally one evening he called and said he’d be pulling in around midnight. By ten o’clock, fans were already waiting at the gate. How they found out was a mystery. I was among a small group of his friends and relatives gathered in the living room. All of us peered impatiently out the large window facing the long circular driveway.

I had been hoping that our reunion would be intimate, romantic. But I could now see that it was not to be, and I wondered if Matt would be upset that so many people were around.

By twelve-thirty, the fans at the gate started shrieking and the powerful glaring lights of the bus swept the driveway. Matt was behind the wheel and smoothly brought the bus to a halt. He was the first one out and he came through the front door like a shot.

“Where’s my girl?” he called out, looking around for me.

“Hello,” I said. It seemed more like months than weeks since I’d last seen him.

“Hello?” he echoed in a mocking voice, coming up to me. “I’ve been gone all this time and all you can say is ‘hello’?” Then he lifted me into the air, kissing and hugging me. “God, it’s good to be home.” He looked around and saw his grandma.

“Dodger, you waited up for me too, bless your heart.” He hugged her and patted the back of her head. Then he greeted the rest of the household. Matt could be extremely affectionate, and this particular night he had hugs for everyone.

With his arrival, Graceland sprang to life. The maids started cooking, and the boys were talking, greeting their wives and girlfriends, and soon they were bringing in the luggage and unpacking it.

After being alone so long, I found this sudden intensity and energy overpowering. I stood amid the commotion, watching Matt go upstairs, as he called out to Pauline, “O Five, what’s for dinner?”

I didn’t know whether to follow him or wait. I didn’t want to appear too excited, so I stayed downstairs until I heard, “y/nn, come up here.” Then I couldn’t get up those stairs fast enough.

We had a few quiet moments together in his room. He asked how I was doing, if I liked school, and if his dad was taking care of me. I started to tell him everything I hadn’t been able to on the phone, that I had missed him, that I had been lonely, that I really wanted to find a job. Then I stopped myself. This wasn’t what Matt wanted to hear.

After a few minutes of talking about Grandma, he kissed me and said, “Well, let’s join the others and eat.”

When we got downstairs the rooms that for weeks had been so quiet were now filled with guests laughing and cracking jokes.

Graceland was—as local DJ George Klein put it—ready to rock and roll.

We had a down-home meal of pork chops, cornbread, home fries, and crowder peas. While we were sitting around the table, local friends dropped by to visit and to catch up on all the gossip about Matt’s latest movie.

“Goddamn, she was a big woman,” Matt was saying about his costar. “Body like a man—no hips, and shoulders broader than mine. I was embarrassed to take my goddamn shirt off next to her.”

“Yeah, but M,” Alan Smith kidded him, “she only had eyes for you.”

“No way, Son, not with John Derek lurking all over the place. I’d be goddamned if I’d start a conversation with her and see his possessive eyes glaring at me. You know he gave her a car, and on the steering wheel it said, ‘Baby, you’re indispensable.’ Head over heels in love with her. Never saw anything like it.”

I was surprised to hear how Matt was talking about Ursula Andress, the alluring sex goddess of Dr. No.

“Wasn’t she pretty?” I asked.

“Pretty?” he snickered. “Hell, she had a bone structure so sharp, it could cut you in half if you turned too fast.”

Everyone howled, including me. Matt’s stories went on for hours. Again I felt out of touch with the conversation and wished I had some colorful stories of my own. I kept wondering when we were going to have some time alone. My world consisted solely of him. I sat quietly, happily observing him. Whenever he winked at me or gave my hand a little squeeze, I returned the gesture, thinking, now? Does he want me to leave, so he can follow me? But then he’d lean back in his chair and begin telling another story.

It was almost dawn before he yawned and said, “Well, we better get some sleep.”

We all rose from the table. He looked over at me, smiled, and said, “Do I have to write a note for school saying you were sick today? Think they’d believe me?”

Everyone laughed—and I blushed.

He put his arm around my waist as we made our way up the staircase to his room. If I appeared cool it was because I was mindful of something he’d once told me: He detested aggressive women. In fact, I was ecstatic. I’m finally going to be alone with him, I thought. All the phone calls, the worrying, the anticipation, and the delays are now over.

I got ready for bed at least fifteen minutes before he came out of his bathroom. He counted out his usual number of sleeping pills and took them one at a time. “Why are you taking those now?” I asked. “You’ll fall asleep.” I had plans, and the last thing I wanted was for him to doze off.

“Don’t worry. It’ll take a while for them to take effect.” He handed me a pill. “Here, just take one of these and you’ll get a good night’s sleep. It’s okay since you’re not going to school this morning.” He cautioned, “I wouldn’t advise it on school nights though.”

I looked at the red monster, remembering my earlier experience with it. “It won’t knock me out for ten days, will it?” I smiled at him as I swallowed the pill. It gave me a nice feeling. My body tingled. I was light-headed but more in control this time.

Snuggled in Matt’s arms, I was happy to be near him, his warm body against mine. Because of the sleeping pill, I could feel my inhibitions dissolving.

“How’s my Little Girl been?” He was speaking very softly now. “I’ve missed her. Has she been good?”

“Yes, she’s been good,” I said. “But she’s been waiting for you. It’s been so lonely here. She couldn’t wait to be in your arms, and she’s been thinking about you so much.”

“Shhh, don’t say anything else. I know you’ve missed me. I want you to just be here with me now and don’t think about anything else. Let’s enjoy each other.”

I was aware of the distant hum of the air conditioner, the music from the radio, the soft glow of the dim lights. Gently and tenderly he began to touch me.

He was passionate and again seemed to be making up for lost time. I felt sure the night would end with Matt finally making love to me. I was drunk with ecstasy. I wanted him. I became bolder, reaching out to him, totally open and honest in my need.

Then, as before when we’d reach this point, he stopped and whispered, “Don’t get carried away, Baby. Let me decide when it should happen. It’s a very sacred thing to me. It always has been. You know that I want it to be something to look forward to. It keeps the desire there. Do you know what I mean?”

I sat up in anger. “What about Nicole?” I yelled. “You mean you didn’t make love to her the whole four years you went with her?”

“Just to a point. Then I stopped. It was difficult for her too, but that’s just how I feel.”

“That’s how you feel. What about me? How long do you think this can go on? God, Matt, that takes a lot of willpower. That’s asking a lot of another person, one who’s in love and has strong, healthy desires.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we can’t do other things. It’s just the actual encounter. I want to save it.”

Fearful of not pleasing him—of destroying my image as his little girl—I resigned myself to the long wait.

Instead of consummating our love in the usual way, he began teaching me other means of pleasing him. We had a strong connection,  much of it sexual. The two of us created some exciting and wild times.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - i think im going to start doing longer chapters🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

[overland-defender]

05/06/2022 - Day 2

We wake pretty early after the Château was beaten within an inch of its life after a heavy rain storm which passed in the middle of the night.

Meeting the team and the rest of the tour guests at the front of Château, Keith briefed each vehicle individually on today’s agenda and the importance of these locations.

The Longues-sur-Mer battery

Omaha Beach

Pointe du Hoc

Maisy Battery

La Cambe German War Cemetery

The Longues-sur-Mer battery We use mostly paved roads until we reach Manvieux, here we traverse unpaved roads parrallel to the coast overlooking the British channel and arrive at our first point of interest Longues-sur-Mer battery. The battery is a Huge, preserved WWII gun installations, built by the Germans to defend France from sea invasion. It was part of Hitlers Atlantic Wall defences consisting of four rapid firing 152mm navy guns, each housed in large concrete enclosures. The site also includes a fire control post, ammunition stores, defensive machine gun posts and accommodation for the soldiers. The battery is actually located between Omaha and Gold beach which made it a massive threat to the Allied landings. Because of this, the area was heavily bombed on the night before D-Day. This was followed by a naval bombardment in the morning. Although the bombing did not cause much damage to the guns it did destroy the phone line linking the fire control bunker to the guns which severely disrupted the batteries ability to engage with the Allied ships that eventually knocked the guns out of action during a duel in which no Allied ship was damaged despite the battery firing around 170 rounds. On the 7th of June the major responsible for the battery surrendered to the British with 184 men. Gravel paths make access easy from the gun enclosures all the way to the coast line vantage points. Omaha Beach 18.5km west is the infamous Omaha Beach which was part of the D-Day Operation 'Overlord'. I could bang about this place for ages as it's such an important piece of the D-day puzzle. But i'm sure readers are already familiar of what happened here, so i will talk about what is here now... and you wouldn't think it was a place of a blood bath where Americans (1st Army, 5th Corps) suffered roughly 2,400 casualties. White sandy beaches and apart from the traffic noise the sound of waves crashing on the break on the beach was tranquil.We get chance to have a quick bite to eat before we head over to another location made famous by the Americans. One last thing to note is a white house nessled under the cliff, this house managed to survive the naval bombardment and Ally landings, it can be easily found as the owners have a picture of the house on D-day next to there letter box. Pointe du Hoc Not what i expected and though i went with zero expectation it is how i can describe as suprising. Prior to this trip inpreparation i had watched a documentary / read some articles of what is described as the most dangerous mission of D-Day and where the first American Forces on D-Day accomplished their mission objectives. The 2nd Ranger Battalion led by Lieutenant Colonel James E. Ruddler were tasked with assaulting the battery on D-Day to silence the guns, protecting Allied ships and soldiers on the beaches below from artillery fire.

Today the site remains cratered from the aerial and naval bombardment prior to the Rangers assault and features a memorial and museum dedicated to the battle. Many of the original fortifications and bunkers remain which you can access as well as the edge of part of the cliff. Given we are attending a around the anniversary of D-Day, an American ceremony was taking place attended by the new generation of US service men and women, as well as some vet's which was awesome to see.

Maisy Battery

The BF4x4 team always have something up there sleeves and it was the Maisy Battery and this was annouced over CB radio whilst driving through rural normandy. I would be very suprised if many people would know about Normandy's best kept secret where you can walk through 2km of original German trenches and explore their WWII bunkers. The Maisy Battery is a group of World War II artillery batteries that was constructed in secret by the German Wehrmacht near the French village of Grandcamp-Maisy in Normandy. British military historian Gary Sterne rediscovered Maisy Battery in 2004, after he had found a hand-drawn map in the pocket of a US Army veteran's uniform he had bought. The battery was about 1.6 km inland marked on the map as an "Area of high resistance".

The battery had been recorded as the second highest D-Day target in the Omaha Sector group of fortifications, but the exact location had been lost from later records. Using the old map, Sterne was able to locate a bunker entrance amongst the undergrowth. He (Sterne) then investigated further and found additional fortified buildings, gun platforms, and a hospital. Over 3 kilometres of trenches were uncovered and apparently there's still more to discover with time and permissions. Making this a little Land Rover related after enjoying the site i saw another defender parked up, a swiss TD5 110 Hicap which would be the definition of 'overlander spec' unfortunately i didn't get the oppurtunity to meet the owner(s) but had a good nose around. Make this location one to visit if you are in area as it’s really interesting and there are also a collection of WW2 guns and vehicles to view.

La Cambe German War Cemetery

I wouldn't say saving the best till last in this situation and like i had mentioned on our first BF4x4 trip (WW1) you don't see too many German cemeteries. Whether it be Allie or German, cemeteries are a place of reflect and appreciation. Though the enemy, these boys and men lives were needlessly cut short, what makes it worse is the value of these individuals post death.... forgotten and it took the families of the fallen to get this site erected. La Cambe was inaugurated in September 1961. Spread out over 7 hectares and located close to the American landing beach of Omaha, 25.5 km north west of Bayeux. It is the largest German war cemetery in Normandy where 21,222 German soldiers are buried. In fact, the mass burial mound holds the remains of 207 soldiers whose names were never discovered.

This ends Day 2 of our D-Day tour, we retreat back to the Château where we join the BF4x4 team to take advange of the fine dining offered as well as on the house calvados... which i still don't like.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of D-Day and we don’t have a clue what is installed for us.

#landrover #defender #landroverdefender #overlander #4x4 #bf4x4 #overland #land rover defender #td5 #td5defender #ww2

[icarus-suraki]

Please forgive me a moment but oh my gaw... For just $1,600,000 this narco-chic house in beautiful Raleigh, NC, could be yours.

Excuse me while I get my @mcmansionhell on but oh. my gaw. There's a lot of repainting and staging in this one, but they can't hide all the beautiful, beautiful sins in this house. Personally I think the new owner should embrace this house as a lost set from Miami Vice or Scarface. Lean into the pastels, get 1980s furniture, add so many houseplants, and get your "greed is good" on.

tl;dr: this would be a great house to do cocaine in.

Also: mirrored toilet.

Knock knock! Mr. Montana? Are you in?

Built in 1988; 4 beds, 5 baths, 5360 square feet

Of course it has a lawyer foyer--kind of.

It's like a disbarred lawyer foyer. Crooked lawyer foyer.

That chandelier looks like a shower head leaking goo and I hate it.

Now we're getting into it:

The first of many, many mirrors.

The current owners have clearly repainted the whole place in "modern" colors but you can't fool us. We see that carpeted open-riser staircase that's just perfect for Michelle Pfeiffer as Elvira Hancock to saunter down before taking another bump of cocaine.

Oh here we go:

Is that... Is that...

YEAH IT IS, BITCH. THAT'S AN ETCHED MIRROR TWO-STORY FIREPLACE DEPICTING ATHENA SENDING FORTH HER OWL HOLY SHIT. And that's not the end of the mirrors and etchings in here either:

The etched glass. The columns. The weird ceiling.

It's a shame this is the only glimpse we get into the dining room because I fucking love the rando traditional chandelier in there. There are also double doors on the dining room and I believe they're etched too. I can just make out what looks like a peacock on one of them in the last fireplace photo.

Yes, they've done their best to stage this place with (slightly ironic) contemporary furniture, but it's not really proving that this house is anything besides a great place to do cocaine.

AHOY MATEY! Love the giant gold vase + bonus faded an art.

Yes, welcome to my home. Please stand under the tube of slime. (Seriously: paint that thing and make the glass green and it's 100% Nickelodeon.)

Love how the wall of the Disbarred Lawyer Foyer interrupts the weirdly traditional wrought iron bannisters. Seriously, wut?

Bedroom photos:

MORE MIRRORS FUCK YES. Honestly I do love the 1980s-does-art-deco fireplace. I could make it PoMo. Why did they un-80s this place? I weep.

What's that? You want EVEN MORE MIRRORS???

You could snort cocaine off almost ever surface in this house. Also I love the door for your bathroom elf there by the tub. He brings you more toilet paper when you run out.

Blah blah blah, there's also a sauna, don't care. MOVING ON: the mystery of the portholes is solved!

Awww, Tony Montana has a sewing room. He mends his own Hawaiian shirts.

Blah blah blah, STILL MORE MIRRORS in another one of the bedrooms...

I didn't mention the pool, did I? Well, there's a pool:

The back: another view of the pool in its concrete hellscape and the yard where you can keep your pet tiger.

But I've saved the best for last: the downstairs bathroom. Based on the reflection in the mirrors (plural, yes), I think this room is just behind the kitchen/bar, behind the wooden door. It's basically under the portholes.

Are you ready? Are you sure? Get your spoons and your straws ready because...

You can snort cocaine off any surface in this room.

The walls, the ceilings, the countertop, the toilet lid, anywhere. Imagine being drunk as hell and trying to use this bathroom. Imagine tripping balls and trying to use this bathroom.

I am speechless.

So thanks for stopping by on this tour of an Escobar-approved narco chic classic in beautiful Raleigh. Bye!!

#mcmansion #vintage

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

The first time you met Bob's family was as his best friend. he'd been planning to go home right after your posting together in some desert and on a calm night when both of you were having your dinner in your respectful cabins, he had called you from the landline and asked you if you wanted to go home with him. Of course you said yes. He was a sweetheart and a gentleman and you thought it was you duty to thank the people who had raised him so well. so you went from one hot desert to another, at his family ranch. It was beautiful, the huge concrete house built on a step foundation, a stable just near by with acres of land for the horses and various animals to stroll in. his family had welcomed you like their own. You'd forgotten how good it felt to be admired by so many people, his grandmother was one of the first to greet you. "Ohhh, look at you pretty girl. You goaled a nice one here Bobby." ofcourse she thought that the first girl that bob had brought home after years was his girlfriend. but you were happy to explain to her that you both were just friends (desperately trying to decay the feeling in your chest that had first started when you started seeing him with other girls), to which she gave Bob a cheeky side eyed smile.

then there were his parents, his mom was the sweetest person, treated you like her own daughter the second you stepped out of Bob's truck and onto the rough, sandy road. She’d hugged you and said “so this is the famous Y/n you never shut up about.” Causing you to give Bob a look of bewilderment, the man beside you was neck deep in blush but dismissed it as a friendly gesture from his mother and said that she was only exaggerating (she wasn’t, he indeed never shut up about you). His dad. Contrary to popular belief (one that you had heard at least) that southern dads are scary, his dad was the complete opposite. You immediately knew where Bob got his manners from when you first set eyes on the older man, who simply took your extended hand that was ready to be shaken and pulled you into a hug, patting you on the back. “She’s a good one, son.” You’d overheard him later that night, speaking to Bob while you helped him mother set up the dinner table.

you most favourite part of it though, was meeting his sisters, Lindsey and Sam. Lindsey was older than Bob and had joined the Floyd family with her 7 year old daughter and husband for the holidays. Sam was the baby out of the three. both the sisters were an identical copy of their parents, having their dad’s soft blond hair and their mother’s gentleness, though Sam had acquired a bit of a sassy attitude from her grandmother, it made her even more likeable.

both had stolen you away as soon as you were done with dinner and taken you up to the guest room that you’d be sharing with Bob for the next few days. You knew what was to come, a million questions were to be asked about Bob and his dating life but what you didn’t expect was this: “so, how long have you loved our brother?” Lindsey had asked, a smirk creeping its way up her face as Sam muffled her giggles beside her.

You sat there, mouth glued shut as your eyes widened. "I-I, uhh... well..." You stuttered, struggling to utter out a single word that might difuse you anxiety in the situation.

"how...? how did you know?"

"call it sister intuition." Sam replied smugly; rolling over towards you from her lying position beside Lindsey. she sat up, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear to reveal the one piece of jewellery that was so dear to you. They were a pair of small white dangling pearls, hung onto a thicker gold loop, dropping like rainfall from your ears. Bob had given them to you as a birthday present, saying that when he saw them, he'd thought of you.

"And that..."

"what about them?"

"when Robby was leaving for his last tour, he'd asked mom to give the family pearls to him, 'a special gift.' he'd said to us but we'd heard him mention your name when he was talking to gammy and mom about it." Lindsey explained. she wasn't entirely off from what Bob had told you, but he'd failed to mention that they were a family heirloom. It didn't sit right... why would he give you the family heirlooms? you both were just friends and if feeling were there, you were sure they were completely one-sided.

Later that night, as you sat with Bob on the floor. the amber light from the fireplace lit his face up like fire, he looked so damn beautiful and all you wanted to d-

"-you listening, Y/n?"

"hmm? shit sorry... what were you saying?"

"I said you have to draw 4. Also, I can see you hiding cards under your leg." He repeated, eyes scanning you mischievously as they lingered on a certain part near your legs. you shifted under his gaze, there was something in his eyes that was...

you shook your head, physically trying to let go of your chain of thoughts as you drew four cards from the deck of UNO cards in front you. Deciding that this maay be the best time to ask him about what Lindsey and Sam had told you, you began;

"So... I talked to Sam and Linds earlier...."

"mhmm" looking over his stash of cards before putting another one down.

"The pearl earrings that you gave me." that caused him to freeze, glancing towards you with an open mouth. taking his silence as a green light, you continued; "why did you gift them to me? i mean, they are your family heirlooms and...i guess they will be going to the person you want to-"

The realisation hit you like ice cold water being dumped on you on a chilly day. Bob sat there, eyes turned down, not meeting your gaze. As you tried taking up the new found revelation. How could you be this stupid?

"Bob..." you gulped, itching to ask him but the words were stuck in your throat, refusing to be let out. you moved closer to him, removing the cards in front you so they wont be damaged. taking his face in your hands as you sat on your knees, causing him to crane his neck as he was forced to look.

"Say it." You ordered gently, wanting to hear it from his mouth. "why did you give me the earrings?"

he audibly gulped at the question, you rarely spoke in such an assertive tone and whenever you did, it was a very different experience.

"because..."

"because what, sweet boy?"

“Because I love you.” He muttered, leaning towards your face as his eyes ghosted over your lips. Placing his hands on your hips to try and reach for your mouth.

“Hmm..” You dropped your hand from his face as they wandered onto his broad shoulders, keeping him down. Eyeing him up and down, you shifted forwards onto his lap, sitting yourself down. "say it again."

"I-I love you."

your hands came to dangled around his neck as his wrapped around your torso, keeping you in place. you leaned into his touch, forehead closing in to meet his as you both sat there, heavy breaths mingling into each other's. you closed your eyes, breathing him in. Being this close in proximity wasn't unfamilliar to you both, but this position was. but as you got more comfortable, you sighed, opening your eyes to see his closed ones.

"I love you too."

that caused his eyes to open. Looking to yours as if it held all the stars in the universe. he shifted his head to the side, trying to gain a better angle to look at you while your gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips. Looking hungrily;

"can i-"

"can I kiss you?"

you both asked in the same moment, which caused a giggle out of you. one of his hands wandering over your waist to the side of your torso just as he grabbed the column of your neck, caressing your jaw as your lips met in a ghost of a touch.

...

A/n; wellll, that was. let me know what you thinkkk <3333 @bussyslayer333 this one is for you babe, ILYSMMM. Bob is sweetheart and i am a sucker for him.

Taglist: @lemur46 @elicheel @arson-tm @blahblechblah @ravenhood2792

#bob x reader #bob floyd #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #robert ‘bob’ floyd #robert floyd x reader #lewis pullman #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #rooster Bradshaw #Bradley rooster Bradshaw #Phoenix #natasha trace

[tsunflowers]

I can’t stop thinking about the diefenbunker still. it is a beautiful time capsule and a testament to man’s folly. diefenbunker facts

it is a concrete cube with 10,000 sq feet of interior space sunk into the ground in a small farming community about 40km away from parliament hill

it was commissioned in 1959 and finished on schedule within budget in just 18 months

it was conceived as a fallout shelter rather than a bomb shelter and would not have withstood a direct hit. theoretically it would protect its inhabitants from a nuclear attack on ottawa

they believed they would have three hours advance warning so mr diefenbaker would immediately be helicoptered out while all other personnel would have to take the train. once they entered lockdown they would be stuck there for 30 days

the guard at the door had a manifest of around 500 positions with four names per position, ie governor general, minister of finance. the first of those four to arrive would be let in and if the other three showed up they would be turned away

i don’t know if the manifest system applied to the support staff as well but there were a ton of non government positions that would have needed to be filled to keep the bunker operational during lockdown such as doctors, a dentist, cooks, plumbers, repairmen

including the military personnel already stationed there the total would have come up to around 600. ten of those would be nurses and 90 would be secretaries. everyone else was a man

during decontamination everyone was required to remove all clothes and personal effects except glasses and drop them down a shaft in the showers. my tour guide did not know where the shaft went

the cafeteria only had space for 200 people and there were also only 200 bunks. everyone would have been on staggered shifts with three people assigned to each bunk taking eight hour sleep shifts. meals would have been served every three hours

during its entire tenure as an active military base (1961-1994) it was stocked with enough food for 525 people to go into a 30 day lockdown despite having around 150 active personnel max

because they were on the gold standard in the event of a lockdown the bank of Canada would have attempted to bring their entire gold reserve by train into a specially constructed vault attached to the bunker. the door to the vault weighed 13 tons and the entire armature weighed 30 tons. if the door ever locked it would require four different people with four different codes to open again

it was never used for its intended purpose and while the bunker was a military base they set up a small gym in the vault

the server room was surrounded by a faraday cage

diefenbaker had it built but when they told him he wouldn’t be able to take his wife into lockdown with him he immediately soured on it

they have a guy who volunteers sometimes who literally worked there doing top secret spy stuff in the 70s and he won’t tell them what anything was for

they run escape rooms and children’s summer camps and you can even get married in the bunker

78 bathrooms - and the army still won’t admit that… THIS IS THE DIEFENBUNKER

[docpiplup]

Also related with the second part of the bookscans, I would like to add some pictures of the first gold dinars of Al Andalus, the transitional coins during the conquest of the Iberian Peninsula. They are from the years 712/713 (94 of Hegira) and 716/717 (98 of Hegira), the first ones have Latin characters, but the last ones are bilingual, and are in both Arabic and Latin:

These are from the Al-Andalus' section of the Spanish National Archaeological Museum, concretely I got the pictures from the museum's free app (the app is mainly a virtual tour inside the museum that offers a close-up of the exhibits)

Bonus track: A map of the conquest

#al andalus #book scans #al andalus history #al andalus. historical figures #al andalus personajes históricos #historyblr #bookscans related #spanish history #coins #dinar #8th century #arqueology

[vincentmatthews]

Summer Rain

{Small trigger warnings: Mentions of blood and sickness, as well as language.}

I hope you enjoy this, I've worked on this for a few months now. Thank you 🥺💕

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Vincent sat outside on the cold, wet concrete steps. He was wearing Johnny's Samurai tank top, his bullet necklace, and a pair of Kerry's ripped black jeans. His green eyes watched the zippo lighter he kept flicking; entranced by the hot, dancing flame. He didn't move from his spot, unaware as the door behind him opened. The soft patter of rain falling on the cement road and sidewalks.

"Christ, V. How are you not fucking freezing?" A soft male voice spoke from behind him, placing his warm hand on V's bare and cold shoulder.

"I'm not."

"Mhm. That's bullshit." The flame went out as the lid was clicked back on it. His eyes flicked up to meet Kerry's worried grey-blue ones. He couldn't help but still be entranced by the gold ring around the iris of his optics. Kerry was wearing his tour hoodie that was a few sizes too big, his black synthleather jeans, and those damn goth boots V teased his about when they first met. Kerry of course said they were threatening because no one wants to be curbstomped by someone in platform goth boots.

"I'm not."

"V, you have goosebumps and you're shaking."

"I am?" V looked down at his trembling hands, ones he'd just passed off as being sick and weak. Yet there they were, trembling and goosebumps freckling his arms. He didn't feel cold, in fact, he didn't feel most sensations any more. His sense of touch was gradually diminishing, as was pain; and now his brain couldn't tell the difference between hot and cold. He just felt numb.

"Babe?" Ker knelt down next to V, his hand still on his shoulder. "How long has this been happening?"

"What?" V's fingers nervously fidgeting with the lighter again.

"Don't give me that shit." Kerry spoke in an authoritve voice that made V feel small, wanting to hide in on himself. Seeing this, Kerry took a deep breath and calmed himself. "How long have you noticed this change?"

V went quiet, looking at the lighter in his hand; it was a vintage black zippo lighter with a gold KE engraved on it.

"How long have you noticed that you can't feel the difference between hot and cold?" Vince stayed silent for a long moment before letting out a forced answer.

"It's new.." V continued looking down to avoid eye contact which worried Kerry on how long it's actually been. Could be days, week, hell even months for all he knew.

"New? What else have you noticed?"

"Nothing.."

"Any loss of motor functions such as: your legs or hands not working correctly, anymore?"

Yes.

"No." V lied, his fingers clicking the top of the lighter anxiously. He put the end of his bullet necklace in his mouth, the taste of the cold metallic metal tinged his tongue.

"Loss of depth perspection and/or balance?"

Oh god yes.

"No."

Liar.

Kerry sat down next to V, sitting cross-legged for the next question, which almost seemed to worry him.

"Any loss of your sensation of touch?" There it was. The question was like being stabbed in the back by someone you trusted. It was sharp and unexpected, and just the honest answer to it, made V feel tears prickle the corners of his vision. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, as if it was tied to a brick.

"No." That was a fucking lie. He'd been gradually losing his sense of touch for over two months now. It terrified him because there's a good chance it's completely irreversible.

"You know, I can tell when you're lying." Kerry's voice was still calm despite him having the burning desire to grab Vince and scream at him while they cried. Yet he had to remain composed for him. "You get quiet, give short answers, you get fidgety with whatever's in your hands, you refuse eye contact, and you always put the bottom of your necklace in your mouth."

Vince looked up with the end of the necklace still in his mouth. There was no point in trying to lie to him, Kerry knew him like the back of his hand. And he knew that if he kept it up, there's a good chance he's going meet his backhand. His lips parted enough for the necklace to fall from his lips around back on his chest.

"What are you so worried about?" Kerry placed his hand on V's thigh, looking up at him with those large blue doe eyes. Vince was quiet, snapping the lid of the zippo as he looked back down. The male sighed, looking down at V's fidgeting hands that were bruised all to hell.

Vincent's lungs felt heavy, each breath was agonizing. His throat burned with the desire to scream, to yell, do anything to get the point acrossed that just the idea of dying fucking terrified him. If he had it his way, he'd grow old with Kerry and never leave his side. But instead, he felt like he was suffocating, that he was drowning, unable to see the surface of the water; that no matter how far he went, he'd never reach the top. His fingers wouldn't stay still now, he couldn't feel anything, and now all he could think was how he was affecting Kerry, just by staying.

"Vince?"

He didn't want to hurt him, but he could tell just by looking at him, that he was affecting Kerry, and not in a very positive way. Then it dawned on him. He was Kerry's Alt.

"Vincent.?" His voice was more broken that time.

He was Kerry's Alt. He was dying slowly because of Arasaka, just like Alt. Ker even made a joke the other day that if V was to suddenly drop dead, that he'd bomb 'Saka tower, in his honor. Even go as far as sprinkling some of his ashes in the explosives used, so V could have one last big bang; while also tearing down an evil corporation. He even said he'd get a sexy golden arm in the same style of Johnny's. It was a joke that they both laughed off but now, it felt more like a promise. His hand holding the lighter trembled as another wave of shakes cascaded through him.

"Dean?" There it was, V's real name.

"Hm?" He hummed, his mind still a million miles away.

"An enny for your thoughts?" He smiled softly to V who tried his best to continue to avoid eye contact, remaining silent.

"Please, Dean. Give me something." Ker reached out, gingerly taking V's face in his hands. "At least look at me." Kerry's hands shook against his face. "Please." Guilt knawed away his heart, he knew without even looking, that Eurodyne was crying. "You know I love you." He sniffles, and yet V still couldn't bring himself to looking Kerry in the eyes. "I just hope you always remember that." He kissed his forehead, he could feel the moisture of tears on the male's face. He let his face go, standing up.

"I'll be inside if you need me." Was all that was said before the door opened and closed.

Vince sighed, leaning his head against the door. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. The sweet smell of rain mixed with the cool summer air. His mind kept wandering to how Kerry gripped his face. How his voice broke when he spoke his name. It made his stomach churn and his heart ache. He couldn't help but hysterically weep into his arms. He pulled his legs to his chest, crossed his arms over his knees and cried. He didn't tell him because he didn't want to be seen as a burden. Yet not telling him made Kerry feel like he didn't love or trust him enough to tell him. He wanted to tell his husband everything, but knew that it would kill him. Kerry still had his music career, his fans, his tours, his upcoming albums and collaborations. Something as small as this would just get in the way of Kerry's big plans for the future. One that V had to be as supportive as possible for; even knowing he'd probably not live long enough to see it through to the end. And just that alone was soul-crushing.

His heart rate picked up. He couldn't breathe. His mind was racing, he couldn't focus. His mouth got dry and he felt reality slipping from his grasp. He felt like he wasn't himself. His mind didn't register pain or other sensations. His head hurt so much, like it was being split open. His teeth hurt, and his jaw locked up from the stress which put pressure on his sensitive teeth. It felt like he'd gotten into a fist fight with Johnny Silverhand. His eyes prickled from the tears and next thing he knew, he was crying, hysterically.

After a good thirty minutes, he was able to calm his breathing and clear his head enough to stand up, wiping his tears away. His knees shook and tingled from falling asleep. His pins and needles legs dragged themselves inside. He exhaled a sigh of relief as warmth washed over him. The sort of warmth that seeped into your clothes, and relaxed your tense body.

Kerry was in the kitchen, his head down, washing the dishes. His hoodie carelessly tossed on the back of a chair, now wearing his white tank. He had the radio playing faintly that was playing Never Fade Away by Samurai. Eurodyne's blue optics illuminated a blue, turning the radio off, before they dimmed.

"Hey babe." He simply said not looking up. Vince hated this. Hated when Ker was upset with him. He hated hurting his husband like this. Hated how his face pouted when he was upset. He snaked his arms around Kerry's waist, leaning his head on the male's tattooed shoulder.

"I'm sorry.. I don't mean to upset you.." Vince sighed, watching Kerry scrub a plate with a shaky hand.

"You didn't upset me, Baby." Ker continued to refuse eye contact. Vince could tell by his reddened eyes that he'd been sobbing as well. Ker exhaled, heavily. "Just promise me you won't leave me. Just talk to me. That's all I ask." He finally looked at him, his face doing that puppy dog pout that instantly melted Vincent's heart. He could never say no to him when he did that face, especially with his large tear stained blue eyes.

"I promise.." Those words were heavy and hard for him to say. He knew it was a lie, Vince was a runner when things got too hard or scared him. His relationships never lasted more than a month, except for Kerry. Eurodyne was his longest relationship, going on almost three years now. But he was scared, and his instincts were kicking in.

"Thank you." His husband placed his forehead on his. "You can trust me. I won't hurt you. I just want to know what's going on with you. I love you Dean, but you're starting to scare me." Kerry kissed V's forehead lovingly. "Just promise me you won't leave in the middle of the night." Ker laughed, going back to cleaning his dishes, V released his arms from around him.

"Promise.." Another painful word that left his mouth.

"Good, because I'll hunt you down and kidnap you~♡ Keep you chained up as my prisoner~♡ And That's A Promise~♡" Ker pointed at Vince with a steak knife, smirking at him.

"Careful, I might fall in love~♡" He cooed back, which caused Ker to roll his eyes at him, and turn back around to continue washing. Eurodyne's optics flashed as the radio clicked back on, now playing a rock song that Vince didn't have any time in figuring out which one it was. He crept upstairs towards their room.

"What are you doing-?" A voice asked as he entered their bedroom. He instantly recognized the gruff voice, which resulted in Dean rolling his eyes.

"Classic fucking Johnny. Not knowing how he fucking impacts people. How fucking fitting of you to have your head so far up your ass, that you don't even realize that us just staying; is fucking killing him!"

"Stop being such a fucking pussy and tell him how you feel!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Vince screamed, angry tears rolling down his face. A light knock sounded on the doorframe. He turned his head to look, and saw a sad and concerned Ker standing in the doorway.

"May I come in?" His voice was soft and calm, even though years of worry wore on his face.

Vince took a breath, his mouth was dry. "Yeah." He hated this. Hated seeing his husband hurt like this. Hated how he always found a way to make him cry. Hated how he was always on borrowed time.

If he had it his way, he'd spend an eternity with Kerry. But 3 years, wasn't very long, and six months of those have already passed. Six months, and he'd already made a drastic decline in his progress. How was he supposed to hold through the next 30 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days?

Kerry snaked his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him close. Vince sighed, laying his head in the crook of Ker's neck.

"You scared me, screaming like that." Kerry's voice was calm, as he rubbed soothing, slow circles on V's back. "You know you can talk to me." That elected a heavy sigh from Vince. "Hey, I mean it. You can talk to me about anything, I'll understand." Ker gingerly cupped the male's face into his. Dean looked down, far too ashamed to make eye contact. "I mean it. And just don't do anything stupid. Talk to me, first. Promise me that?" There it was. The promise. The one thing he couldn't keep.

"I promise." He forced his scratchy voice to say. It came out more painful than as second nature as it used to be. Now those promises weighed more. He felt like he was being pulled underwater by them.

"Just get some rest. You're tired." Kerry hummed, running his hair through Vince's short red hair in a loving manner.

"Yeah.." His voice was soft and barely audible. His throat was locking up, tears prickling the edges of his vision.

"You'll be better after some rest." He leaned in, kissing V's neural port. "And you be nice to him. Cut him some slack. Kid's been through hell, let him rest for once." A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he knew that wasn't for him, but rather the brain parasite that pledged his mind. "Please try and rest. Or I'll have to knock your ass out." He laughed, and gave him a playful glare. Sure, Eurodyne was joking, but in a way, he was also serious.

After a kiss and an "I love you" he left the room to go do God knows what. Vince sat on the end of the bed, putting his head in his hands, leaning forward.

"You're fucking gonk."

"Shut up."

"This is going to fucking kill him."

"Shut UP! THIS ISN'T YOUR FUCKING CHOICE TO MAKE!" He sat up quick, putting his finger in Johnny's face, who stared at him wide eyed, his hologram wavered before the pixels shattered and glitched away. "YEAH, FUCKING RUN! JUST LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO WHEN THINGS GET TOO FUCKING REAL FOR YOU!" He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face, his breath trembled, as did his hands.

He bent down, pulling a black suitcase, setting it on the bed. His hands examined the acrylic Samurai kerychain Ker gave him during one of the tours, even signed the back of it with a permanent marker. "For my favorite groupie." He said as he gave it to him.

"Really?" A pair of legs appeared hanging off the edge of the suitcase. Johnny was sitting on the top of it.

"Move." Dean growled, glaring daggers up at the male who scoffed, leaned back, and lit up a cigarette.

"Make me." He blew a cloud of smoke in V's face who sneered and waved a hand in front of him.

"Now." He pushed the square of Johnny's chest who fell back, but shattered as soon as his back hit the bed. "Fucking parasite.." He mumbled to himself, undoing the zipper, flipping the top open.

He looked around the room, wondering where to start. Then his green eyes caught sight of himself in the full body mirror. He looked ghostly pale, his face didn't even have the natural tint of blush. His eyes looked dark, and heavy. He slowly approached the mirror, lifting up the ends of his shirt. He'd lost weight, and not in a healthy manner. He knew Ker noticed, he even mentioned it briefly. Saying how he needed to eat more. Yet the idea of food made him nauseous, and most meals now ended with him hugging a toilet.

He dropped the ends of his shirt, the fabric that once fit him perfectly before, now looked a few sizes too big. Almost like his clothes were trying to eat him.

"You're ugly." V's voice broke as he spoke. He didn't know if it was Johnny speaking or himself; not like it really mattered anymore, they both knew he was. "Skinny. And looking half dead. Can you even feel anymore?" His mind wandered to the dark depths. He wondered if he could cut himself on glass and still feel the sting of a fresh wound.

"Do it." A voice whispered in his ear. "Do it you fucking pussy."

V rolled his eyes, turning back to the duffle bag. He opened the black hardwood closet. He pulled out his clothes off the hangers, he stuffed them inside the bag, followed by pants and boxers. Then he pulled out a shirt that Kerry had gotten him. It was a blue and pink ombre US Cracks shirt with Kerry's face on it.

"I remember when he got us this." Vince sighed softly as he looked the shirt over, tearing up at the memory.

"Remember when he insisted on signing it?" Johnny leaned against the wardrobe, watching as Dean folded it and placed it in the bag.

"Remember how mad he was when I told he didn't need to?"

"Yet he didn't listen, did he? Just had to sign it anyways." Johnny sighed, watching Dean continue to stuff clothes in the duffle. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"No, but what choice do I have?" He zipped the bag up.

"Oh I don't know-" Johnny held up his metal hand. "Tell Kerry wants going on, be open and honest, stop running from your problems, don't be a pussy, talk about it, get help, stay, sleep on it." He counted them out on his fingers, which made Dean glare at him. "You know, just to name a few."

"You're one to fucking speak. Mister my Girlfriend died so I killed thousands of innocent people as a form of revenge."

"Listen here, Mother Fucker-" Johnny got in V's face, pointing at him with his metal finger. Dean dead panned as he reached out and touched Johnny, causing him to blue screen and glitch out.

"Mhm.. and you're nothing more than a virus on a chip." He hissed at Johnny, throwing the duffle over his shoulder.

~

"Mhm. I just worry about him, you know? He's not eating as much as he used to-" Kerry was leaning over the cutting board, chopping away at a carrot. "And he's gotten more quiet. He stares off a lot. Yes I'm sure it's not stress. Stress doesn't effect V in this way. Stress makes him want to go street racing and street fighting. Not shut down completely." His optics were illuminating a blue, indicating that he was on call with someone, most likely Vik.

"No. No. No. He hasn't mentioned anything about the Relic or Johnny in a while, now." Kerry sighed, gliding a ringed hand through his salt and pepper hair. "What really scares me is he's losing his sense of touch." Kerry adjusted Dean's MISSIO t-shirt that he was borrowing from him. Classic Kerry, cooking in a t-shirt and boxers.

Maybe if he was silent, he could slip out the door, unseen.

"He's having violent nightmares again." He finished with the carrots and moved on to an onion. "What type? The type that leave him in a cold sweat. The type that make him wake up screaming then break down into tears. Those type of nightmares. Lord knows what they're about because he won't tell me anything about them. Everytime I ask, he fakes a smile and says he's fine." He sighed, lowering the knife, setting it on the cutting board. He leaned back, both hands on the counter, even from looking at Kerry's clothed back, he could tell he was tense about the whole ordeal.

"Yes, he's taking him pills regularly. Same with hydration and eating. Although the hydration part seems a bit harder than I'd like to admit." Kerry laughed softly. "I swear he's like a child sometimes. If it's not flavored, he doesn't want it. I mean who hates the taste of water?"

"Right. Sometimes I forget how drastic of an age gap we are. I swear sometimes he makes me feel my age." Another laugh came from Kerry. "I mean what sort of kid hasn't seen or at least heard of *Shrek*? Back in my day that was cinema gold." Another laugh.

Dean stood there, taking in the sweet sound of his laugh. One that he was fairly certain he'd never hear again, Kerry hasn't had much to laugh and smile about as of late. He'd even returned to drinking and smoking once V was in bed for the night. He tried to hide it all, not wanting to worry him, or prove that he couldn't handle it. Their once cheerful, sunny household, was now grey and full of tears. He'd seen how much this had aged Kerry, if not physically, than certainly emotionally. And the only thing going through V's mind is he was the cause of it all. This angelic laughter and half smiles was further proof that Kerry would be okay with out him. He could finally heal from this all. Even if it meant doing it alone.

It was starting to get dark outside, unfortunately the heavy rain showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. A deep rumble came from the sky.

"Ooo~♡ Thunder~♡ I wonder if we'll be lucky enough to see lightning~♡ What do you think V?!" Kerry called out, still having his back to him, returning to chopping a few more times before transferring the cutting board contents to the oiled pan. Dean kept silent, which elected a heavy sigh from Kerry.

"Yeah.. He's gotten into the habit of not answering. I don't know if he can't hear me or what. I have this fear of checking on him one day, and him being.. gone.." His voice got strained. "The other day I went to the store, to grab a few things. And when I'd come home, he was asleep on the couch with the TV on. I swore for a second, that he had died on me while I was gone. I didn't tell him of course-" He stirred the contents in the pan with a wooden spatula. "I mean what do I even say? 'Hey, you scared me today when you fell asleep'.? That would just make him force himself awake, and he has enough problems sleeping as it is." Kerry sighed. "And the last thing I need is to make him feel like a burden."

He had heard enough. V carried his bag to the door, opening it. He tried his best to close the door, silently, yet the latch made a soft click sound.

"What are you doing?" V nearly jumped out of his skin as the voice sounded behind him. One he'd grown far too comfortable with hearing, and one that had become more loud and prominent since he's been sick.

"You know what I'm doing." Dean huffed, carrying his bags to his motorcycle. Ignoring the fact that his clothes were being soaked by the cool rain.

"He's going to kill himself if he finds you gone. Or worse. He'll become me." V scoffed.

"You'd love that wouldn't you? Kerry self destructing so much that he becomes you. Proof that the only reason Kerry loves me is because I'm becoming you. Because that's how it is. Everything is about you. No wonders Alt fucking hated everything about you. Classic Johnny Silverhand, only caring about himself. I bet she didn't even try and fight it when they-" He didn't finish the sentence before a hard smack was delivered by a metal hand, he dropped the bags to the pavement road. He coughed, unable to breathe, he doubled over, his hands on his knees, trying to remain standing on his trembling legs. The warm copper taste filled his mouth, he kept letting out hard coughs, trying to clear his lungs enough to breathe. His hair was pulled, forcing him to stand up straight again.

"Don't talk about shit you know nothing about." Johnny hissed at him. Vince finally spat the blood on where Johnny's shoes would've been, if he was real. He took a shaky, pained breath; finally able to breathe.

"Fuck you." V let out a weak laugh, leaning over to grab his bags once more.

"You're fucking pathetic you know that? Running away from your problems, instead of dealing with them."

"Like you'd know anything about that? All you did is run when things get too real. You ran from Rogue. You ran from Kerry. You ran from Alt. You deserted during the war. You ran from everyone in your life! So you know what? Maybe this isn't me. Maybe it's You." Vince pushed past Johnny to get to his bike. He'd just secured his bag on the back as the door of the villa opened.

"What are you doing.?" Kerry's voice sounded distant, he had his black robe over his shoulders, and his ugly blue sandals. "Where are you going.?" He could hear how heavy those words were for Kerry to vocalize. He couldn't turn to look at him, just the thought of having to stare into those big blue doe eyes again, it would make him stay.

"I'm leaving, Ker."

"Please come inside, we can talk-" Kerry slowly approached the male.

"I don't want to come inside!" V raised his voice, resulting in Ker recoiling his hand from touching Vince. His throat tightened up, his lungs burned with the urge to scream, he tried his best to bottle it up, yet his eyes prickled with tears. "I'm afraid that if I come in.. I might not leave.. And I can't have that."

"Why not? Baby, please come inside. You're wet and cold. Lets at least dry you off. I'll make you some tea. Then we can discuss-"

"For the love of GOD!! WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME!!" V finally turned to Kerry. He was drenched, his big blue eyes were crying with the rain.

Kerry was taken aback by his tone, and that look of scorn on Dean's face.

Dean took a deep breath, his face softening. He didn't mean to raise his voice, let alone scream at him. He reached out to caress Kerry's face, but he pulled away before he could touch him. His lungs tightened, he'd never had Kerry pull away from him, let alone in fear.

"Ker.. I.." He sighed heavily, shaking his head. Dean picked up his bags, setting them on the back of his bike, using a bungee cord to secure them.

"Where are you going-?" Kerry sniffles, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Dean went silent. Kerry reached out, placing his hand on V's arm.

"Please just come inside.. Let's talk about this please.." Kerry looked up at Dean with his big blue eyes.

Dean sighed heavily, pushing Kerry away. "No. I'm leaving Ker. I'm sorry." Kerry backed up, the tears surfacing in his eyes again.

"Please don't. Babe.. Come inside please.."

Dean avoided eye contact from Kerry, as he got on the motorcycle.

"No No No.. Please don't.. Please.."

V sighed, starting the motorcycle, putting on his helmet. His stomach twisted and a wave of nausea washed over him. Something about seeing Kerry, soaked and in tears made his eyes well up. He had to leave. Rather leave while he could still semi-function, than wait until he's too weak to walk.

"V, wait! Please! We can talk about this!" The blonde rocker cried out.

"I love you. And I'm sorry." And with that he finally left.

Kerry stood there, watching his bike disappear from sight. He was shaking from the cold rain that was pouring over him. He was crying so hard he was hyperventilating. His hands trembled as his optics illuminated a red, trying to call Dean, but the call was instantly dropped.

"Fuck.. No.. Please.." He tried again, gaining the same result. "Fuck no please, God-" Again, nothing. "Fuck-" He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his breathing and think for a moment. "I'll call Vik.. He'll know what to do.." Kerry combed a hand through his disheveled and wet hair.

-

V pulled over on the side of the road, at least 30 miles away from Kerry's Villa. He tossed off the helmet, throwing it to the ground. He couldn't breath, his lungs locked up, and seized. All he could do was cough. He spat up blood, finally able to take a pained breath; which came out more as a heavy wheeze. Gravity hit him and the whole world spun for moment.

He took an uneven gasp before he reluctantly picked up his helmet and got back on his bike. Heading towards the only cozy motel he knew, that was just on the outskirts of Night City; The Sunset Motel. The most peaceful place Dean knew of. It wasn't much, but it would do, up until his body finally gave out on him. And judging by the numbness in his fingertips, it wasn't very long from now.

He put back on his helmet, and headed off down the road. He hated how silent everything had became now. He hated how there was a gap between calls and texts from Kerry now.

How still the world felt. It was oddly comforting. How quiet everything became. It was something he hadn't felt in years; since he was a kid. To have everything just stop for a few seconds. To finally be able to breathe again. He could only hope that Kerry would somehow feel the same, after Dean had left this world. To be comforted by the silence once more.

#I hope you like this 🥺💕 #if you dont like the wall of text blame Andrew #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk kerry #oc: vincent/dean matthews #male v #johnny silverhand #summer rain

[desultory-novice]

The Seven Sins in Kirby

Hey hey hey, guess what! Thanks to Forgotten Land, we now have seven (!!) Soul bosses! (1) And you know what that means... 

We can assign them to the Seven Sins! 

Yeah! Wooo! Let's goooooo!

Lust - Soul of Sectonia

Sectonia (after encountering the mirror) began to crave peak physical beauty. Also, flowers have a longstanding association with not just romance, but reproduction. Everything from how poets have interpreted them (often strangely) as resembling human sexual organs to them mimicking certain insects for the sake of attracting a pollinator. Speaking of poetry, there's also the "lust for life" angle, and you can't deny that Sectonia is one of Kirby's most tenacious foes.

Gluttony - Marx Soul

One can't help but notice Marx's larger mouth and long hanging tongue, after his transformation. In addition, his black hole attack, which in his Star Allies demo was used to suck up a huge chunk of Whispy Woods apples, has a very strong association with "devouring." (Could also be implied with his "absorbing" Nova's parts.) And as Marx Soul, he always opens with that attack. Speaking of Star Allies, both his JP and EN screens make sure to mention meals and eating.

Greed - Star Dream Soul OS

Star Dream may not have had a personality until it absorbed President Haltmann's mind and body, but it’s still true that Star Dream and Max "Crazy Rolling in Money" Haltmann had pernicious effects on each other. Max becoming obsessed with money and acquisition, and Star Dream becoming so devoted to the HWC's goal of "prosperity," it was willing to eradicate all life to achieve that. In Soul form, Star Dream also takes on more gold in its color scheme.

Sloth - Forgo Soul

The alien invader who has been in stasis in the Eternal Capsule for so long that it has started to fall apart and can't maintain itself outside its "sleeping chamber." How much raw power Elfilis commands when awake, we don’t know, but they are undeniably powerful when in a state of sleep, and appear to have not just dream-like power, but power over dreams themselves. And there’s the Eternal Echo of the Thrilling Tour-our-our, which reflects Elfilis’s own dreams.

Wrath - Magolor Soul

Something tragically left out of Magolor Soul's English pause screen description is the mention that Magolor is "...trapped by anger." We don't know what about, but you can still see an undercurrent of irritation and a barely concealed short-temper in him, as he is one of the only characters to ALL CAPS SHOUT at Kirby in anger with a bit of prodding. Pre-transformation, even his eyes change to more wrathful ones once his health is taken down far enough.

Envy - Void Soul

Void has the potential to become anything, but in its current state, seems unable to stay as any one thing, switching from Hyness's desired God of Destruction, to a Dark Matter-alike, to attempting to mimic Kirby themselves. Any sense of personality or concrete existence is but a distant memory for Void. But it does seem to know that whatever that was, whatever it might have been, it misses it and feels a strong desire to be that again. "Friends reunited."

Pride - Drawcia Soul

Drawcia comes out of nowhere to decide she’ll repaint the entirety of Popstar (and Kirby) to her liking, making it an extension of her world. Also, she has her own world. As an (implied) former masterpiece (forgotten now) it's not hard to imagine she's got some lingering pride about that. She is also the first "Soul" boss, and thus, the originator of the concept of the Soul boss, up to and including their attacks, making her a fine fit for the role of "original sin."

-

(1) Yes, yes, not all of them are fightable. At least, not by that name. But Chaos Elfilis is just Soul Forgo fused with Morpho Knight. It's still a Soul fight. The second phase especially.

#Kirby #Kirby series #katfl spoilers #forgotten land spoilers #queen sectonia #soul of sectonia #Marx Kirby #Marx Soul #star dream soul os #Star Dream #Fecto Forgo #Chaos Elfilis #Magolor Soul #Magolor #void kirby #Void Soul #Drawcia #Drawcia Soul #Dess Text Post #Long Post #cw ommetaphobia #cw eye contact

[three-headed-monster]

what are your thoughts on the tate mcrae and cole sillinger flirty situation. do you think they are dating? or do you know anything new going on between the two?

first of all, i’d like to preface that i don’t tolerate serious hate on my blog at all (yes i joke i hate logan cooley, that’s different). so please no sending in hate anons about these people or leaving mean comments in the rbs.

second of all, i am NOT, i repeat NOT a wag blog. i am not going to take multiple asks on this situation. i’m going to state my piece, maybe answer one additional ask and that’s it. this is going to mainly be my stance on this until there is something really big and new that happens with it.

finally, yes i know we have covered this topic on my blog before. last time, some anons correctly asked me to not speak on it anymore unless something concrete came out. i chose to do that and i choose to speak about this now because i think everything that has happened since that time has given enough for a solid conclusion on what is going on. however, this is just speculation so please do not take anything i’m saying seriously. i personally think yes, they are dating BUT nothing has been confirmed yet and we will probably never know the answer to this question. they at the very least are FRIENDS.

okay but let’s get into it now cause this is gonna be like a primer lmao

so this all starts about a year ago where cole goes on the showbound podcast and said this:

tate is kind of overlooked in the podcast episode because they wanted to focus more on charli d’amelio but nevertheless, cole admits she is his celebrity crush.

this clip blows UP on tiktok, which is where tate likely sees it, because in an episode a few weeks after, the two podcast hosts talk briefly about tate giving cole a follow on instagram.

it goes like this for a little bit. tate starts liking cole’s posts on instagram (including this one from cbj of cole in a plaid suit) and cole pretty much did what he did before, which is obsessively like all of tate’s posts too.

it all kinda picks up from boston though.

so towards the end of the nhl season, tate was starting her first headlining tour. the first leg was in North America, where she began her tour in the USA and visited both montreal and toronto. the interesting part is this:

her at the bruins vs cbj game in boston on her tour off day. while she had to be in montreal in the next 24 hours.

it was very weird to a lot of people that she’d suddenly go to a hockey game on her off day, and especially weird she chose the cbj game of all games.

however, most people brushed this off as just a friendly gesture or tate being from a hockey family.

this isn’t where it stops though, not at all. this is where it continues until now.

tate posted this on her story which i found a little odd, especially since her brother’s friends are

and cole was COMPLETELY new, a new friend of you will

then tate posts this and i am FLABBERGASTED because she’s watching the worlds gold medal game for why??? i KNOW that voice and i know that’s gord miller. this was also a few days after her album release too, which made me be like ummm okay cause like let’s be real, no one watches worlds unless they have a friend/family member playing.

also found this clip of tate singing an unreleased song which sounds like it doesn’t match with the aesthetic of her debut at all. made me think there’s someone new!

further tinhatting continues from me, especially when cole likes tate’s brother’s post, tate follows his brothers, and tate does this thing where she mouths along to i’m single i think. i feel crazy every time i say anything about them.

BUT THAT ALL LEADS TO VALIDATION

cole earlier today posted this on instagram thanking the cbj fans for a great season. seems like a hockey’s regular post right?

WRONG

now we all know i have a theory, a Great Theory. basically, when a hockey comments on a girl’s post, it’s pretty much sealed and locked in that they’re dating. it’s happened with kirby, bo, and dylan and it’s not gonna change. SO WHEN I SAW THIS I WAS LIKE THE THEORY?????

alas we may never know. but i’m liking the role reversal if it is true AND both tate and her brother liked the post on instagram.

from this evidence you can probably come to the personal opinion that they’re together. however, i’m just going to say that they are definitely friends, if not a bit more. but we have no idea if they are together or being flirty or whatever. i can only say they are definitively friends…only friends do that stuff.

whatever happens, cole sillinger has Already Won, he’s got his celebrity crush commenting on his photos 🤷🏻‍♀️

#ask #q speaks #i am afraid to tag it anything because wow it’s basically a primer #tinhatting #worth it tbh because there’s so much here

[wilbursoot-updates]

Lovejoy is in this article!

In Focus: Lovejoy Plays Second Ever New York Show At Mercury Lounge

Lovejoy made a stop on Wednesday on December 7th at the Mercury Lounge in New York City. Selling out every one of their shows within minutes of announcing their US tour, the upbeat indie-rock band put on an amazing performance, full of jumping, head-banging, and enthusiastic crowd interaction. The UK-based band played various songs from their first EP Are You Alright, and their latest release, Pebble Brain.

Lovejoy, consisting of lead singer Will Gold—better known by his Youtube name, Wilbur Soot—guitarist Joe Goldsmith, bassist Ash Kabosu, and drummer Mark Boardman, played their second ever show in New York this past week. The band formed in 2020 when Wilbur Soot, with his already large fanbase of 6.35 million followers on Youtube and Twitch for video game streaming, uploaded his comedic yet catchy song, “Your New Boyfriend.” The song pushed Soot to pursue music on a more serious level. Already friends with guitarist Joe, Soot met bassist Ash Kabosu at a burger shop and drummer Mark Boardman through the freelance company Fiverr. After Soot and Goldsmith’s first day of recording music with their newly found instrumentalists, the four decided to form their band.

Lovejoy first entered the stage by pushing through the crowd, generating screams of excitement from the crazed fans, many of whom brought their parents with them to the packed venue. Given that Lovejoy had only four scheduled tour dates in the US, many dedicated followers traveled hours from far away states like Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and even Florida to see their favorite band play.

A teenager from the crowd handed guitarist Joe Goldsmith a black-and-white striped beanie, which he wore during the entire show. Prior to playing their song “Model Buses,” the crowd collectively booed Boris Johnson and sang along to lyrics like “We can barely see your hair receding..” and “Sound as good with slurred speech as I do when I’m sober…” After facing some technical difficulties during their performance of “Concrete,” the band replayed the song with the whole crowd screaming the lyrics and jumping eagerly to the beat. Before their encore, the band members pretended to leave the stage and re-enter from behind the curtains, prompting the crowd to scream in excitement once again. Lovejoy is continuing their US tour with two last shows in California on December 9th and December 11th.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #december shows

[joeallbright]

Finding Sunken Ships while Diving in the Caribbean Sea

The countries that make up the Caribbean are most widely known for their pristine beaches and aquamarine waters. The Caribbean is also a popular scuba diving spot, with many divers taking in the diverse marine life, including coral reefs. Scuba divers can also tour the sunken ships beneath the Caribbean Sea.

Cozumel, Turks and Caicos, Bonaire, and St. Croix are among some of the top scuba diving destinations. However, while they offer divers much in terms of marine scenery, the Bahamas, Cayman Islands, Aruba, and Roatan offer divers something more- a little bit of history.

The Bahamas is an archipelago comprised of 700 plus islands located in the middle of the Caribbean Sea and the Western Atlantic Ocean. Some top diving spots include Tiger Beach, where divers can see many tiger sharks, or visit Bimini to see hammerheads. Bimini is also where divers can tour the remnants of the once powerful 282-foot cargo steamer, the SS Sapona.

The vessel traveled the Caribbean Sea during World War I, but a 1926 hurricane caused the ship to move off course. The vessel shipwrecked near Bimini, where remnants of the wreckage still exist. Today, the wreck off Bimini is one of the most popular diving spots because of the marine life that sits below. The ship's skeleton appears on the water's surface, but frogfish, nudibranchs, starfish, and crabs live below. Furthermore, divers can see reef sharks, sea turtles, grouper, and various rays.

The Cayman Islands is also the location of two shipwrecks. Grand Cayman, Cayman Brac, and Little Cayman offer divers impressive drop-offs, with Grand Cayman being the location of Stingray City and other marine life. These islands were also the location of a significant discovery for a couple who traveled to the Cayman Islands in 1970. The couple snorkeled near Seven Mile Beach on Grand Cayman when they found an emerald-encrusted jewel in an area now named Lost Treasure Reef. After renting diving gear, they returned to the site to find a 13-foot gold chain, platinum bar, and 300 pounds in gold items. The booty came from a 450-year-old Spanish ship traveling from Mexico to Spain circa 1522 that disappeared.

The other sunken ship was the USS Kittiwake. The boat has remained intact after being intentionally sunken in 2011. This rescue ship traveled among the Caribbean, Atlantic, and Indian Oceans for five decades, beginning in 1949 and ending in 1994. After removing all its contaminants, the government sunk the ship. Today, the recreational site is shallow enough for free divers and snorkelers to tour the wreckage.

Divers can also travel to Aruba to tour Antilla, one of the Caribbean's largest (and most famous) shipwrecks. Aruba was a Dutch colony in 1940. Germany built Antilla and anchored it off the coast of Aruba in 1939. Coincidentally, Germany invaded the Netherlands, so Dutch mariners tried to board the ship, but the German captain prevented them from boarding. The captain then ordered his men to destroy the ship, after which they escaped sinking, but were apprehended by the Dutch. Today, parts of the ship's wreckage sit above the surface where pelicans and other sea birds live, but divers can find diverse anemones, hard coral, moray eels, crustaceans, and octopuses.

Finally, Roatan, an island off Honduras, is another popular for scuba diving. The lush, mountainous landscape allows divers of all levels to tour the water's depths. Those diving in the area will descend the Hole in the Wall, a steep vertical descent down a reef wall. In addition to seeing bright coral, schools of fish, rays, and moray eels, divers can also tour the El Aguila (the Eagle) shipwreck.

In 1998, before being broken into three parts during Hurricane Mitch, it measured 230 feet. Historians believe the ship was on course from Haiti to Puerto Cortes carrying concrete. After shipwrecking, it remained underwater for years before being brought into the Roatan harbor before another storm drug it out to the reef. At some point, a team purchased and cleaned the ship, sinking it in its current location.

Content Disclaimer: The information and opinions expressed herein are obtained from sources believed to be reliable; however, no representation is made as to, and no responsibility or liability is accepted for, the accuracy or completeness of the information. The information is provided as general information and is not intended to be specific financial guidance. The information is subject to change without notice. Before making financial decisions, you should consult a financial, legal or tax professional. Providing personal information may result in contact from an insurance agent. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

#Joe Allbright

[laurelsofhighever]

WIP Wednesday

I’ve been double tagged! On my main blog by @pchberrytea and here by @ellenembee, so I’m going to do both in one go. Because I’m an attention hound nice, here’s one extract from my The Wayhaven Chronicles murder mystery Like Glitter And Gold:

The Agency’s interview rooms weren’t part of the official tour during Leah’s first stay at the Facility, and with their drab, concrete walls and the low whine of the air being pumped down from more habitable levels they’re certainly less presentable than the common rooms or the prison wards. Still, there’s a disconcerting weight to all the layers of earth pressing down that makes her shoulders itch, something in the dead way sound travels through the halls bringing too easily to mind other corridors, dank and dark and stinking of rust.

Aaaaaaaaand a sneak peek from As The World Falls Down, the Prince!Alistair AU that I will be starting to publish VERY SOON:

The storm broke just as he stepped over the threshold. A couple of the horses stamped and whickered nervously at the sudden staccato noise against the wooden tiles of the roof, but the straw of their bedding was thick, and cosy, and their haynets full of the sweetest meadow grass Arl Eamon’s fortune could provide, and when nothing emerged to threaten their comfort, those more skittish mounts settled down to munching again. But something was still off. The boy cocked his head at the odd, stilted sniffle that reached him from the dark corner at the far end of the building. The door in the wall there led to the main keep, and that meant it was usually given a wide berth by the arl’s servants. It was unlatched.

He caught a flash of blue in amongst the straw as he sneaked closer, the switch still in his hand held out to the side like a sword, ready for quick action. Definitely – there was definitely someone there. The drumming rain on the roof echoed the rise of his heartbeat. He breathed deep, in through his nose, imagined a thief or an assassin. Imagined the look of pride and gratitude on Arl Eamon’s face when he found out just who had stopped this interloper singled-handed. He readjusted his grip on the switch, and with a battle cry leapt around the corner.

He found a girl.

Thank you for the tag, guys! Tagging you both back and tagging forward: @serenpedac @vhenad4hl and @mutantenfisch

#wip wednesday #guuuuuuys i'm so close to being ready with this

[whispermask]

gasoline in your heart ch.6/10 | soap/ghost/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ previous | ch wc: 3.6k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule)

preview:  “We should talk–” Soap starts. “That’s the last thing we should be doing right now,” Simon says.

They reach for each other at the same time.

“Hey,” Soap says, voice hushed. “What are you doing?”

Simon’s just closed the door of Soap’s flat and toed off his boots, turning to find arched ceilings and wall-length windows behind him. It’s more of a warehouse space really, but it’s been converted into some kind of industrial-chic studio flat, with a spiral metal staircase that leads to a platform above the main unit where the kitchen and living space are located, half of a second floor. Soap’s draped large swaths of Afghan fabrics over the black-paned windows, his sparse brightly patterned furniture gives the place a sense of warmth and nostalgia. 

Beyond the living room in the shadow of the second floor is an art studio. Simon had known that Soap liked to sketch, had seen him with his tongue poking out while he dragged graphites over the pages of his notebook, shading and smudging with the pad of his finger when he wasn’t using the charcoal or a pencil. This is on a whole different level entirely. 

He’s got three easels staged in a half circle so that his back would be to the window while he works on the canvases. The concrete floor is covered in paint splatters, countless sheets of sketch paper littering the area around the easels. Two rolling carts sit nearby, piled full with brushes in mason jars, tubes of acrylic paint, and various other tools. Soap’s covered the large canvases resting on the easels with opaque nylon sheets. 

“Mirin your place,” Simon says, turning to look at Soap where he stands with his hip leaned against the counter of his kitchen island. 

“I’ll give you the tour,” Soap says. He comes around the island to stand beside Simon, hooks his fingers beneath the strap of the duffle bag and lifts it from his shoulder and over his head to drop it at their feet. Soap gestures to pocket door on the kitchen wall to their right. “The toilet’s through there, and a walk-in shower. I put out clean towels for you if you need them,” he says, inching closer to Simon’s side as he talks, placing a hand on his arm to direct his eyes. 

��Over there’s my art studio and above it’s the bedroom and a second toilet. Once I knew I wanted to set up an art studio, I opted to renovate, create more space,” he finishes.

“It’s very stylish,” Simon says. 

“It’s my pride and joy, arsehole,” Soap says, and shoves Simon’s shoulder. Simon laughs, falls quiet, turns his back on the flat and looks at Soap, haloed in the light from the kitchen behind him. 

“We should talk–” Soap starts.

“That’s the last thing we should be doing right now,” Simon says.

They reach for each other at the same time. 

Simon goes for Soap’s waist while Soap’s hands come up to frame his face and pull him into a desperate kiss. The press of their mouths is not frantic like it’s been every other time, no threat in Soap’s touch, but it still burns through Simon like molten gold in his veins. Their lips drag against each other wet with spit, teeth catching and tongues swiping, kitten licks that turn filthy. Soap drags his cheek against Simon’s bearded face, sighs on a moan as he reaches between them to cup Simon through his jeans. “Impatient,” Simon says.

“Like you aren’t,” Soap replies. 

Simon sucks in a sharp breath when Soap squeezes his shaft lightly and rubs the heel of his palm against the sensitive head through his clothes. Soap smells leather and petrol, a hint of bergamot, familiar yet new. Beneath that, his own musk mingling with Soap’s. Their arousal becomes tangible, a thing with claws that’s been lying in wait, long grown tired of waiting. 

He backs Soap up against the island, sudden and startling, places his hands on the counter behind him, cages him in. Soap catches on soon enough, winds his arms around Simon’s neck as his hips jerk up against Simon’s. 

“I smell like stale sweat and motor oil,” Simon says, breaking their kiss. 

“Yeah,” Soap exhales, lowering his arms to grab Simon’s hands, like before on the motorcycle, and drags them from where they hold his waist to cup his ass. “I like it.”

“You like the way I smell?”

“Always,” Soap says and bites his lower lip between his teeth, looking up at him from under his lashes. 

“You right little tart,” Simon says, and pulls Soap against him from where his hands are digging into the flesh of his ass, brushes his fingertips along the tops of his thighs as he teases the inseam there. 

“You have no idea, do you,” Soap says, arms coming up to brace against Simon’s wide chest. He bunches his hand in Simon’s shirt and yanks Simon down until they’re nose to nose.

“I stole one of your shirts in Chicago. Touched myself every night for a week with my nose pressed against it facedown in my bed,” he whispers, and kisses Simon sweet as syrup. 

“Do you still have it?” Simon asks against his lips. 

”The shirt? Yeah.”

”I’ll suck you off in it later,” he says. 

Soap moans low in the back of his throat, eyes closed and forehead pressed against Simon’s. He leans forward to nuzzle Simon’s neck, sniffing unashamedly. He pulls the collar of Simon’s shirt aside to mouth the place where the bite mark he had left in the hotel room in Istanbul has mostly faded into the vague shape of his teeth. 

Simon can’t help his soft moan at that. “Fucking hell, yes,” he growls, cupping the back of Soap’s head and tipping his own to the side to give him better access. 

Soap laughs into his skin and brings their mouths together again, pressing into him hard. Simon goes boneless when Soap shuffles back to hop onto the island countertop, wrapping his legs around Simon’s hips to drag him closer. 

He’s just beginning to grind his dick in wicked little circles against Soap’s through their pants when he catches another whiff of his sweat and pulls away.

“Can I fuck you in the shower?” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, do you even need to ask?” Soap pushes against his chest to put some space between them, unzipping his leather riding jacket and dropping it to the floor, white T-shirt not far behind. Soap’s hands are going for the zipper of his dark jeans when Simon sees something metal catch the light on Soap’s chest. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out thumb the piercing through Soap’s nipple. 

“Oi!” Soap exclaims. 

“How long have you had these,” Simon asks, incredulous. He reaches out to cup Soap’s other peck, giving it the same treatment.

“Few years.” Soap shrugs.

“How come I’ve never seen them before,” Simon asks, eyes finding Soap’s face.

“I take them out during the day when I’m deployed, put them back in at night before bed to prevent them closing. I’ve been hurt too many times wearing them while sparring.” Simon nods dumbly, like he knows what Soap’s talking about.

He stoops to pull Soap’s right nipple into his mouth, using his hand to pinch the fat there and give him a decent bite. He pinches and pulls Soap’s other nipple, flicking it lightly, careful not to be too rough with the metal bar through the tender skin. Soap moans and pushes his chest out, grabs the back of Simon’s head to hold him where he’s latched while he suckles and lathes his tongue in long, wet stripes. He uses the tip of his tongue to lightly scoop the piercing in a flicking motion, which causes Soap’s hips to thrust forward so that he almost slips from the counter. As he pulls away, he drags his bearded cheek against Soap’s nipple and watches a wet spot darken the cotton of his briefs where his dick is poking nearly out of the waistband, hard and insistent. 

Simon pulls him down suddenly from the island to turn him around and grab Soap’s hands, placing them flat, palm-down, on the marble countertop, trying to temper his strength so he doesn’t hurt Soap. He pulls Soap’s briefs down his thighs with a deep rumbling groan, licking his way up from the inside of Soap’s thigh as the muscle jumps at the sensation of his tongue.

When he gets to the cleft of Soap’s ass, Simon spreads him wide, ogles the twitching furl of him, and spits on his hole. Soap cries out, nearly a scream, legs trembling, supported by Simon’s hands and pinned by his gaze. He pulls away, stands up and turns Soap to face him again, cock jutting out from the nest of dark wiry hair that starts from his navel and trails down to frame his gorgeous cock, thick at the base and tapering slightly towards the tip. When Simon looks in his eyes, there’s only a thin ring of blue. 

“That was worth the wait,” Simon says. “But if we don’t get in the shower, I’m going to eat you out right here in your kitchen.”

“You could,” Soap says. “I would let you.”

“I know,” Simon says, and shoves Soap towards the door of the bathroom. Soap reaches for the hem of his shirt, pushes him out of his jacket and yanks it over his head, runs his hands over Simon’s pecs, brushing against his nipples and grips his chest hair to pull him along until he’s got Soap caged against the pocket door. Simon reaches behind Soap’s head and slides it open, careful not to topple Soap as he backs him into the bathroom, looming, not breaking eye contact. He flicks the light on. 

The bathroom is all luminescent white and teal tiles and concrete facades, with a walk in shower enclosed in glass in the far corner. A double vanity and wall-length mirror are next to the toilet, adjacent to the shower and across from the bathroom door. The overhead lights are low and cool and the shower is swathed in dark blue shadows. 

Soap pulls away and goes to turn on the water. Steam begins to fill the room as Soap holds his hand under the spray to test the temperature. Simon watches him, ogles openly at the cut of his calves and thighs and the pert ass atop them. He takes the opportunity to strip out of his jeans and pull his socks off. He’s stepping out of his briefs when Soap turns to look at him. He glances up to meet Soap’s eyes and sees Soap’s lips parted on an ‘O’ as he watched Simon, eyes dark and intent. 

Soap pulls him under the spray, tries dropping to his knees in front of Simon, but Simon grabs him by the elbow, turns him around to push him face-first against the glass, kneeling behind Soap with the water at his back. Soap’s hands come up to brace himself, smearing handprints in the steam. Simon runs his fingers up and down the inside of Soap’s legs, spurred by the breathy gasps and soft moans he hears above him. Simon bends to kiss the back of one knee and hears Soap’s forehead thud against the glass. 

“Christ,” Soap groans. He shoves his hips back in a gentle rocking motion, doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it. 

“Not quite,” Simon says and spreads him open, dropping kisses and bites from the cleft of his thigh, into the meet of his ass, until he’s almost nipping at the center of him, lips and whisper-light against his skin. Thinks, he’s going to be covered in beard burn by the end of this.

“Ghost,” Soap whines.

“Try again,” comes Simon’s reply. He swipes his thumb over Soap, feels the twitch of the tight furl pull at the pad of his finger. 

“Simon,” Soap cries. 

He’s a mess before Simon’s even gotten his mouth on him, legs shaking with each touch and pass of his thumb. He bites down on the curve of Soap’s ass, hard, just to make him shout, “Simon!” again, trembling and shocked. 

“Sorry,” Simon whispers. 

“No you’re not,” Soap says, straining, like he’ll fall to pieces at any moment.  

“You’re right, I’m not,” he says. 

Simon kisses the skin just next to his hole again, using his thumbs to hold him open. Soap reaches behind to put his hand on the back of Simon’s head, threads his fingers into the short hair there. 

“Don’t stop,” he says. Simon doesn’t even pause to tease him any longer, just nips at the core of him, followed by a long, wet swipe of his tongue from just behind Soap’s balls up to his hole. He moves back down to suckle his perineum, licks back up and sucks at the sensitive pink skin there, wet with his drool. 

He eats Soap out like he’s been starving for it, lapping and flicking, pulling away to spit on his hole again and push it inside, hooking his thumb just past the tight ring of muscle to pry him open and slip his tongue in too. Soap writhes on his face, shoving his hips back as he pulls Simon’s hair, forcing his tongue deeper. 

“I think you can make me come like this,” Soap moans. “Oh fuck that feels incredible.” Simon reaches around to encircle the base of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, a poor man’s cockring. He pulls away and stands, still holding Soap’s prick firmly in his hand. He strokes Soap from base to tip, tortuously slowly. 

“We need a condom,” Simon says, dragging a hand up Soap's side and around to his nipple left nipple, then his right, fingering the piercings, then trailing his hand to Soap’s chin. He tips Soap's head to the side so that he can crane for a dirty open-mouthed kiss. “Be right back.”

“No,” Soap choked out. “We don’t need it.” He’s searching Simon’s eyes. 

“You test recently?” Simon asks, rutting against the cleft of Soap’s ass, his prick rock hard and leaking, still stroking Soap’s dick so, so slowly. “Has he?” he adds after a beat. 

Soap nods furiously. “The first day I got back to the RAF Station after Turkey, König dragged me to the clinic. We’re both clean. I can show you the letters, they’re in my nightstand–”

“I trust you,” Simon says, shocked by the truth of those words which extend far beyond this moment here between them. 

“Unless you want to,” Soap offers. 

Simon shakes his head. “There’s been nobody else,” he says.

“Nobody? As in–”

“Just you in the last handful of years. Got tested maybe four years back, after a one night stand in SoHo. That was the last time, and I was clean, but I don’t have any proof of that with me.”

“I trust you,” Soap repeats. 

Soap’s put a bottle of silicone lube in the shower caddy, always prepared like any soldier worth his salt. He retrieves it and squirts some on his fingers before tossing it to Simon, leaning forwards against the tile wall and reaching behind himself to put on a good show as he works one, then two fingers inside his body.

“Was doing this before I picked you up,” he says, watching Simon slick his own cock with the lube. Simon crowds in close, slips a finger in alongside Soap’s. He’s hot and silky, tight as he clenches down. 

“All right,” Soap says, pulling his fingers free and reaching for Simon to pull his hips flush against his ass.

“I want it known,” Simon says, practically humping Soap, bowed over his back to speak into his ear, “that you asked for this.”

“Yes,” Soap moans. “Please, I’m asking for it, yes, yes.”

Simon abruptly knocks his legs open wider and digs the fingers of his right hand into Soap’s hip hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. He uses his left hand to clutch the base of his cock, slapping it once, twice, three times against Soap’s hole before he starts to push in, the resistance giving way to slick, silky heat. 

Soap arches, head hanging between his shoulders as he moans, trying to hold himself up and push his ass back onto Simon’s cock at the same time. Simon moves until he’s flush against Soap’s ass, buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, that’s deep,” Soap says, face scrunched at the feel of him, raising his hips to get Simon as close as possible.

“Fuck back on me, that’s it,” Simon says, not thrusting yet but letting Soap grind his hips in little circles, the skin of his hole stretched tight and pink around his shaft and pulling obscenely with each movement of his hips. Soap looks over his shoulder at him, eyes wild, lips red and parted, expression pleading. 

Simon’s control falters and he snaps his hips forward, does it again in short, powerful bursts that have Soap rocking up onto his toes. His finesse devolves from there, becoming something brutal and animal, the room filling with the wet slap of their bodies as Soap keens from pleasure and Simon grunts, inhuman, from the force of his own thrusts. 

Soap’s arms give out and Simon takes the opportunity to shove him face first against the shower wall. Soap shoves back on to his cock even as Simon’s hips snap against his ass impossibly hard. Simon can hear Soap’s ragged breaths, punched out of him each time Simon thrusts all the way in, grinding against his prostate as best he can. He’s fucking Soap mercilessly, staking some type of claim, consumed by it, mindless in his pleasure seeking. His cock is so hard inside of Soap, the hot line of it spearing in and out in a blur of motion. 

He feels Soap tighten around him, muscles squeezing to hold him in place on the next series of grinding thrusts, something about the angle lighting him up and making him wild. He tosses his head against the tile, and Simon reaches around to find his leaking prick. Soap stops him with a hand. 

“Like this, I can like this,” he gasps, tightening. So Simon slides his hand up to Soap's nipple, fondles his tit, rubbing the pad of his finger against the puffy skin of his nipple, nail catching on the bar of the piercing on a flick. In the next instant, he feels and hears rather than sees Soap come on a shout that reverberates off the tile and concrete, shakes the glass.

The clench of Soap’s muscles around his cock as his ass throbs in time with the pulses of come Simon imagines shooting from his bobbing cock onto the shower tiles is bordering on painful, and yet Simon can’t help but chase that edge. Soap’s still coming around him when Simon’s thrusts grow tense and slow, devastating in their brutality. The fire burning in his gut goes supernova and he feels his cock start to pulse in Soap’s ass, come slicking the way and making his thrusts slide home that much deeper. His movements become sloppy, his faculties destroyed. 

Over the roar in his ears, he hears Soap moan.

“Fucking come in me, yeah that’s it. Give it to me. Jesus Christ, Simon.” The words send a primal rush of satisfaction zinging down his spinal cord, and out through the head of his cock 

The supernova ebbs into an overwhelming rush of pure feeling; a bonfire of love and wild joy that temporarily lowers his inhibitions. He feels as though he’s about to cry, completely open to Soap then. Would tell him anything, leans forward and bites Soap’s shoulder to keep the confession on his lips inside.

Simon holds Soap close while they catch their breath. His softening dick slips out of Soap, but he doesn’t move away. The storm of endorphins is starting to abate but the pleasure remains. Simon feels liquid and brainless as Soap turns to face him, placing his hands on Simon’s waist and tilting his face up for a kiss. In Soap’s arms, Simon realizes he’s trembling. He clings to Soap’s shoulders and kisses him so long it feels like hours have passed, the shower water now lukewarm.

“Are you okay?” Soap whispers against his ear. He nods, but doesn’t move. “I think we should get out now.” Soap continues. 

“I s’pose,” Simon mumbles into Soap’s neck. 

“Do you want me to clean you up?” Soap asks, voice low and gentle. Simon knows without being told that it’s something Soap wants–something he maybe thought he’d never get. But right now Simon wants that too, and he nods. 

Soap lathers him with his own shampoo and body wash in the spray of the tepid water; even washes his face and feet, while Simon watches in sleepy amusement.

“You’re good at that,” Simon says when Soap has finished. He’s swiping the same washrag he had used to clean Simon down his own chest now.

Soap just hums, smiling up at Simon almost shyly. Simon crowds in close, hand drifting down to Soap’s ass, fingers pressing between his cheeks and against his slick hole. 

“Allow me,” he says, and takes the washrag. 

-

Later, when they’re under the covers of the massive plush bed upstairs, Soap's wearing nothing but the shirt he stole from Simon, who’s only in a pair of black briefs where he lays between Soap’s spread knees.

He gets Soap hard again and sucks him off. It’s slow and dirty, drool catching in his beard and dripping from his chin as he takes Soap down to the root. Soap braces his feet against the sheets and thrusts into his mouth, chases his own pleasure, careless of Simon’s for once. After Soap comes on his mouth and chin with Simon’s hand stroking him through it, Soap lays on his side with Simon spooned up behind him, thighs clamped tight and as smooth as velvet around Simon’s cock. 

Simon bunches the fabric of the shirt in one fist and uses it to rock against Soap, the soft, lightly furred skin between his legs growing slick with sweat and precome. He pulls away suddenly to wank himself off, coming on Soap’s ass with a growl behind his bared teeth. He smears it into Soap’s skin with the head of his cock gripped tight in his fist. When he's done marking Soap, he cleans them up with the stolen shirt. Makes Soap put it back on when he’s done. 

Soap falls asleep first, almost immediately after Simon had finished wiping him down, limbs loose and pliant. His head’s pillowed on Simon’s chest where he snores softly, arm slung over his stomach and holding him close. Simon stares at the ceiling, mind racing but feeling a bone-deep ache of satisfaction. His arm tightens around Soap almost without thought. 

He hears a phone buzz on the nightstand next to him. On reflex, he reaches for it with his free hand. 

It’s Soap’s phone, lit up with a message from König. 

"I just really miss you.” the message preview reads. 

Guilt lances through his chest. He’d forgotten about König, or had foregone thinking about him so he could instead focus on what he'd wanted, which was Soap all to himself. The idea König has maybe given up spending time with Soap so Simon could take his place, that Soap had been forced to choose between the two of them, sits heavy in the pit of his stomach. Trying not to overthink it, Simon opens the camera of Soap’s phone, snaps a selfie that’s mostly Soap’s face where it’s pressed into his side and the corner of his own jaw and cheek. He opens König's message to Soap, tries not to read any other texts in their chat history. This time, he knows who he's texting and what he's going to say. 

He sends the picture to König with the caption “You should be here. -ghost ” 

König responds a moment later. “With Johnny?” 

Simon replies, “With us both.”

#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #macley #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish #soap mactavish #mw2 #cod #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #König #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 ghost fic #mw2 fic #soapghost fic #soapghostkönig #gasoline in your heart #my fic #soapböx

[thatfanficgurl]

Chapter 7: Ah Up

April 2066

He wasn't quite sure how he ended up here; touring empty corridors of neon. Leaning back against the cool concrete pillar, Jackie tried to recollect his thoughts. ¡Hijo de puta! He was never drinking Gustavo under the table again. Gustavo was a loyal member of the Valentinos and the owner of La zarigüeya enyesada bar just outside of Heywood. Tonight, they were celebrating.

For months, Jackie had been saving up eddies to buy Cera a ring. He planned to propose to her this weekend.

Staring at his own reflection in a puddle just below where he stood, he chuckled to himself. She wasn't going to be too happy that he was drunk. Regaining his wits, Jackie proceeded down the sidewalk to the Valentino safehouse. Stumbling a bit, he reached out. Grasping the metal door handle, he almost fell backwards when Cera whipped the door open.

"Jaquito!" she exclaimed, pulling him forward by the sides of his leather jacket. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he forced himself steady.

"Mi amor, ahí estás". slurring his words as he purred the flirtatious gesture.

"¿Qué diablos en realidad? ¿Estás borracho?" Cera swore, her voice suddenly very cross with him.

Jackie straightened up, leaning forward he kissed her cheek before sheepishly shrugging his shoulders, "Maybe a lil." Cera shook her head, lacing her fingers up with his own before dragging him upstairs to the second floor.

Living quarters for Valentino members were located on the second floor of the building. First floor was for vehicles and bikes, third floor held Campo's room and the central room where they planned out their Maelstrom attacks. That being said, Cera and Jackie had the largest room. It had a small kitchenette; consisting of a microwave, mini fridge and a small sink. The bathroom was a tight standing shower and toilet combo. Their bed though, was the best. Behind the black metallic headboard was a massive nine foot by twelve foot sized window that looked out onto the bright lights of Night City and Heywood.

Cera smirked, helping Jackie out of his jacket. "Campo is getting nervous." she commented, her breath hitched. She thought she would be used to seeing Jackie shirtless or nearly naked by now. Reaching back, he pulled his maroon t-shirt off. His pectorals were at least twice the size of her hands. Large enough to display the golden glint from the cross that hung around his neck. Jackie was a massive bulk of a man. His six back abs, although not entirely well defined at the moment, triumphed the size of anyone else. He wasn't just her partner, he was her champion. Jackie had had her back in every shootout they found themselves in. Every corner they were backed into, Jackie always found a way out. He was clever like that.

Sliding his black jeans off, Jackie chuckled at her. Even though he was flaccid, the outline of his cock in his boxers made Cera concerned. She wasn't sure how she'd ever fit that cadillac in her dog house. "¿Ves algo que te gusta, chica?" His voice purred at her, teasing. Cera shook her head, pushing him away towards the bathroom.

"Get in the shower, Jack. You stink somethin' fierce." Cera smirked, watching him saunter into the bathroom. "Did you hear me before? Campo's getting nervous."

"What does he have to be nervous about?" Jackie called back while Cera picked up his clothes from the floor.

"They're too quiet, thinks they're planning something." Grabbing his leather jacket to hang up on the other side of the door, a small black box fell out with a small thunk. Cera reached down, curious about why Jackie would have something like this. "I think he's right." She called to him from the open living/bedroom. It was a small velvet box. Definitely something pricey. Soft. It felt soft against her fingertips. Trembling slightly, Cera opened to the small box. Tears forming in the corner of her eyes, they stung.

It was a small gold ring with a single sapphire in the middle. Inside the gold band were the following words: Las hermosas luces de sus ojos. Blue, it was her favorite color. "This can't be.." she whispered out loud. She knew he loved her, but she didn't know he loved her this much?!?! Did Campo know? Did he already give Jackie his blessing? She was so lost in the moment, she never heard the shower stop.

Jackie stood in the bathroom doorway, with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. The hot shower sobered him just enough for him to focus on Cera's fallen face. "What's wrong?" he asked, crossing the room to her side. That's when he saw it. She had found the ring.

"Jackie, this..." her voice trailed off, eyes of honeyed amber look at him. Looking through him.

"Mierda, Cera. Was gonna ask you this weekend." He smiled at her.

"Wait? What?" Was all she could say before Jackie gently took the box from her. Slowly, he dropped down to one knee.

"Hope this thing doesn't unravel." he mumbled under his breath. The last thing he needed was to be proposing to the woman of his dreams with his polla y bolas hanging out. "Cera, I keep tryin' to find the right words to tell ya how much ya mean to me. I keep fallin' short. So, I went through some of your favorite books until I found somethin' that fit." Jackie paused for a moment, clearing his throat before continuing, "The Illiad by Homer. Can't normally figure out what that greek guy is tryin to say, but this much makes sense to me. 'I'd recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I'd recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion.' Cera Orta, will you marry me before my pelotas get any colder?" He smirked while tears fell from her gemstones eyes.

"Jack.." she didn't know what to say. In fact, she didn't want this perfect moment to end. Taking a deep breath, it dawned on her. She didn't care what her brother thought. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. There was no one who made her this happy. There was no one else in the world she could bare her soul to without judgment. There was only Jaquito. "Yes." she exhaled. "Before your pelotas get any colder." She grinned, full pearlescent teeth shimmered in the reflection of the light. Jackie smiled, taking the ring out and slipping it over her finger.

There was no one else in this world that made him feel more whole. There was nothing he wouldn't do for this woman, she was all of his weaknesses. The sound of her voice echoed all commands of his heart. Jackie reached up, caressing the back of her neck. Fingers entwined in her deep brown hair as he gently pulled her into a kiss. His lips frantically, feverishly searched hers. Tinder igniting to her flame. A hiss escaped his lips, Cera had bit his lower lip. "Easy there, killer. You still have to wait till our wedding night." He cursed under his breath, he would wait for her though the ignition that stirred beneath his towel certainly didn't want to. He would wait for her. Always.

__________________________

Spanish to English Translations:

Hilo de puta - Son of a bitch

La zarigueya enyesada - The Plastered Possum

Mi amor, ahi esta - My love, there you are

Que diablos en realidad? Estas barracho - What the actual fuck? Are you drunk?

Ves algo que te gusta, chica? - See something you like, chica?

Las hermosas luces de sus ojos - The beautiful lights of her eyes

Mierda - Shit

Polla y bolas - dick and balls

Pelotas - balls

#fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 #adecentread #thatfanficgurl #jackie x cera welles #ghosts cyberpunk fanfic #Spotify