#tragically hip tuesday

[partycatty]

drunkenly sending oldie johnny (your boss basically) nudes⁉️⁉️

older!johnny cage > because of you

warnings: ur ass and butt are out, age gap (ur about 30), drunken goobers

[ masterlist ]

you weren't the type of person to get plastered on a tuesday, but a mission with the special forces went off with every success possible. johnny, one of the leaders and coordinators, insisted that a party was well-deserved, as was a week off (provided that any netherrealm horrors don't peek their head around the corner in that time).

a healthy serving of wine swirled in your glass as you were too entranced in the motion to notice your boss coming up to you. he had a beer in hand, and a sloppier smile than the one he typically carried himself with. he was loosened up, ready to charm anyone that'll give him the time of day. it's one of those traits you never really let go of as you age.

"there you are!" he exclaims, slamming a large hand onto your shoulder. "been looking for you since i arrived. wanted to thank you for your smart thinking on the mission."

your cheeks flare up at the sudden, very masculine attention. "thank you, lieutenant, but i just did what i had to. i didn't put much thought into it, i just —"

he shuts you up quick, pinching two fingers in front of your face with a grin.

"i'm johnny tonight," he starts with. "and don't downplay yourself. you're one incredible little firecracker." and with that, he provides another reassuring slap to the arm before pivoting and returning to the center of the party, where more people were bound to interact.

the interaction was so platonic, so casual, but your head felt fuzzy. any attention from johnny sent you reeling despite your most professional attempts to keep it under wraps. you wanted to dump your wine onto the floor, but dammit, it was actually pretty expensive courtesy of johnny.

most of the night didn't really happen in your memory, you were in and out as you enjoyed probably more alcohol than intended. perhaps you were trying to drown your embarrassment. tragically for the party, you were a quiet, sleepy drunk. and johnny of all people noticed your gentle swaying before anyone else.

"hey hun, you doing okay?" he asks, a small slur in his own voice as well. he leans down to inspect you, a strong hand holding your arm. "you look like you're ready to fall over." it took a good amount of strength to not let a little moan out at how good he smelled, even when mixed in with alcohol.

you rub your eyes with a small "mhm," not really paying much attention to your surroundings. johnny was having none of it.

"i know i told everyone to party hard, but i think you've had enough, doll," johnny admits, hands on his hips. "how about you retire to your quarters?"

you want to nod, you want to be curled up in your bed and dreaming but you honestly struggled to recall the map to your quarters. you were in a large common room, that much you knew. but when it came to stumbling your way back, it felt like traversing the jungle. johnny noticed your hesitation.

"here, come on," he holds his arm out, in that helpful fatherly way he adopted after having cassie. although he could be an egotistical pain in the ass, he still knew how to flip the switch and be a useful member of the special forces. your wrap your arms around his, drunkenly flustering yourself with the side of his bicep. you almost blurt out how much you'd like to take a bite out of it, but you thankfully hold your tongue.

the walk felt impossibly long to the both of you, the only noise being his boots and your own heeled shoes. johnny looks down at you with a weak smile.

"you look nice," he compliments, admiring your figure in your outfit. "don't think i've ever seen you in civilian clothes before." instinctively, your face slams into his arm, concealing your flushed face. he jumps, eyebrows shooting up. "oh, not great with compliments, huh?"

oh my god, dude. this is your boss. your boss is complimenting you privately. he's walking you to your room. out of all of the other members, he knows where your room is?? you feel yourself sobering up in horror, but all you can do is squeak out an "mm-mm," into the fabric of his sleeve. he chuckles lowly.

"that's alright," he reassures you with a loose grin. "can you stay upright for me?" his request feels suddenly entirely possible. yes, he's your boss, but if he asked you to jump you'd ask how high. you'd probably agree to several crimes if he asked in that sultry voice of his. your back involuntarily straightens at his minor request, and he chuckles again. "good girl, there we go."

his words feel like the world's hottest spell. it's like his voice is the only thing to come through in your screaming mind, interjecting any dirty thoughts that could possibly be conjured up inside.

after however long it might've been, you're standing at your door with johnny looming behind you. noticing you're too drunk and flustered to move on your own, he reaches around you and opens your door for you, ushering you in by the small of your back. a back that might split in two if he was any rougher.

"you need me to tuck you in?" he asks teasingly, seating you on your bed and standing over you. his hand finds its way to the top of your head, stroking with the length of your hair. your head tilts up to look at him through fluttering lashes, a harsh shake of your head telling him you were a big girl, you could do it on your own.

"good girl."

and there it was again, that heat curling into your stomach at his words. he used that phrase rarely, very rarely in training. johnny knew of the connotation of the phrase, sure he did. but your mind was so foggy, you couldn't determine if it was an intentional usage or not. you could only take it for what it was.

the silence seemed to be a response in itself. he pats your thigh, standing upright fully.

"right. well, best get to bed," he insists coolly. his tone sounds restrained, distant. like he's trying to stay calm. you can't argue or protest, just hum in response. he checks behind him one last time before shutting the door and leaving you to flail in your blankets.

are you that drunk to think he's flirting with you? is HE that drunk to flirt with you? of course, in your twisted, distorted mind, this was an indicator that not only was he flirting with you, he wanted you biblically. carnally. whatever other word you could pull from your dulled brain.

the sensations he had left behind, his lingering scent, you were starting to lose it. even sitting upright, your hand dove under your pants and lazily played with yourself, trying to relieve the part embarrassment and part lust you felt from his presence.

in the heat of your masturbation, your horniness spoke to you like a devil on your shoulder, telling you to show him how good it was feeling. so, like a fool, you snapped a shaky video of yourself. you laid on your back and continued to massage your clit in slow, tender circles, enough to hopefully send him into shock.

you find his contact easily, considering you often searched for it and debated texting him outside of work hours. but now, that anxiety was gone, and you sent the video with no shame, captioning it with as flirty of a message you could type.

"m still thinkinf of yuo" was your best attempt so you settled with it. johnny didn't open it, considering he was at a party and likely too busy to check his phone. in your imagination however, it felt like a game to see how many times you could text him and still not get a response. so, you sent another.

you pulled your shirt up, letting your breasts ripple freely with each tug and pinch of your nipple. your drunken whines were barely audible unless the volume was on full blast. you sent it without shame.

"woulf feel bettre with yhor hands."

as a final attempt to get his attention, you type out a firm and blunt confession, one that you would have never thought to type in a million years. damn his pricey wine!!

"i need you"

at this message, he finally opens it and the read receipt makes you nauseous. could you lose your job over this? probably. johnny takes a looooong time to reply, though his message is short.

"sweetheart." that's all it says, and you can't make out the tone. condescending? encouraging? your conclusion is even more vague at his next message. "you're drunk. please get some rest."

if there's anything the special forces taught you, it's that you don't back down from a fight. so, you lazily shimmy your pants further down to get a juicier view of your sloppy pussy, dragging a thin line of your fluids to snap a photo of.

"cant hepl it," you text back. "need yoy all the timr"

"do i need to come in there and put you to bed myself so you stop sending those pictures?"

you swallow dryly. shit. maybe this isn't the best approach. he seems frustrated, annoyed with your pushy behavior. or maybe, and the thought makes you grin wickedly, maybe johnny wants to put you in your place the way you dream about.

"maybe," you add a tongue out emoji for extra measures. johnny reads it, but doesn't reply.

several minutes fly by as you're lazily toying with yourself, chasing the high that might've been a bad idea in hindsight. you'll worry about it when you're sober.

boots echo down the hallway. a master key jingles in your doorknob. you don't think to remove your hand from under your pants, instead craning your neck to see what the deal was.

the door slowly swings open, and johnny's silhouette is massive in the doorway. his breathing is heavy. his fists are clenched. a sight so beautiful in your drunk mind that you can't help but widen your legs ever so slightly. he seemingly twitches in response.

"lieutenant," you breathe out, your circular motions on your clit speeding up. johnny can only shush you before making quick strides to your side, slamming your thighs together with a deep sigh.

"bed," he commands darkly, voice sounding stern, but not in the way he'd act around the trainees. "now."

"mm," you whine, trying to reopen your legs but his hands clasp your knees harshly. "i was close." he sighs again, placing his forehead on your knees.

"doll," he warns you again. "i'm not asking."

"did you like the videos?" you slur out, bringing your fingers to your lips to nervously fiddle with them. "i made them for you."

he exhales sharply, sounding more like a frustrated hiss. "that's not—"

"did you like seeing me touch myself to you?" this brazen attitude comes out of left field for you. it was like your mind and body were on autopilot.

"you're playing a dangerous game."

"i know."

johnny tries to avert his eyes from you, but they can only fall to your wetness coating your thighs.

"jesus..." he mutters, tilting his head to get a better look. "doll, you're soaked."

"because of you."

"is that so?"

slowly, tenderly, he reopens your thighs with a palm on each leg. your cunt is on full display, soaked and aching from the previous pleasure. as if it was the only logical way to approach this, johnny's hand lowers to your core, swiping a thumb across your folds and making you jump. his eyes are glassy, like he's not in control of his actions. his jaw is tense.

"god, i..." his thumb pulls away and you writhe. "i shouldn't. we can't."

"why not?" your voice is whiny, needy for more.

"i'm your boss, doll."

"that makes it more exciting."

"if anyone finds out—"

"they won't."

his inner turmoil fizzes away when he catches another glance at your pussy, shiny and slick with need for him and him only. his thumb returns, darting straight to your clit to rub circles with his calloused fingerprint.

"i'm not gonna fuck you," he mutters, transfixed on the sight below him. you feel tears prick in the corners of your eyes when you can only weakly ask why not. he takes a moment to reply. "because i wouldn't be able to control myself."

johnny's fingers pick up the pace, now creating an obscene slick noise from your cunt with his fingers. he toys with your sensitive bud, relishing in the way you squirm and flush from his hands alone. his dick twitches eagerly with each moan you spill, and he thinks to himself that he'd rather enjoy making you scream from his dick. perhaps next time.

"johnny—" you whimper, hands digging into his forearm. "please, i— 'm close." you wish you hadn't gotten yourself a head start, so maybe it would last longer.

"mm?" his voice feels far away, not really listening to your warning as his brutal pace goes unfaltered.

"johnny," you try to warn him again, needier this time. your volume increases. he holds a hand down on your stomach, flat to keep you from escaping his touch.

his fingers spread your folds apart as he gets full access to your clit. his lips part to groan at the pretty sight, and the way his motions become sloppy as he loses traction and slips across your folds. as your lips part to let out a needy cry, he leans forward from between your legs and firmly slams his lips against yours, swallowing every attempt of a moan you could make. it's his warm, wet lips that send you over the edge, one that he rubs you right through. as you throw your head back and disconnect your lips, he buries his face in your neck to take in your scent.

"good girl..." johnny gently encourages you as you ride out your orgasm. now weakly spasming and fluttering around nothing. "you're alright, i've got you."

after some time of you laying seemingly lifeless, he removes his fingers from your soaking pussy. from how hard you came with his fingers alone, you wanted to feel embarrassed, but you were instead in a dumb bliss.

johnny sits up again, wrapping his lips around his fingers to clean the mess you made on him. his eyes flutter shut at your taste. his other hand falls to his cock, shamelessly readjusting the thick tent you created to avoid suspicion. your head falls forward again to get a hazy look at his form hovering above you.

"get some rest," he quietly asks, glancing to the door to ensure nobody heard. "i'd... like to have a word with you. in my office. tomorrow."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mk11 #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

[the-hottest-band-tournament]

Welcome to the hottest 80s band tourney

In this tournament you can submit an band from the 80s here and we’ll see who’s the hottest

Submissions are now closed

Submission requirements

It must be a band no solo artists

I need a list of the members and the instrument they play

They had to have produced at least one album during the 80s

Choose the lineup that you want just make sure that they just all performed together during the 80s

For a list of the lineups check here a quicker list of submitted bands is down below. We are trying to get to 256 submissions so don’t worry about submitting to many bands.

List of submitted bands

will be updated

Guns’N Roses

Mötley Crüe

Queen

Hanoi Rocks

Iron Maiden

Poison

Rush

Anthrax

Possessed

Bon Jovi

Skid Row

Talking Heads

Warrant

The Cure

The Bangles

Def Leppard

The Traveling Wilburys  

U2

Dokken

Blondie

Duran Duran

Quiet Riot

Aerosmith

Dio

Metallica

Winger

The Human League

The Clash

Cinderella

Nirvana

The Smiths

The Police

They Might Be Giants

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band

R.E.M.

Spın̈al Tap

Tin Machine

Red Hot Chili Peppers

ZZ Top

AC/DC

Beastie Boys

Depeche Mode

The Pogues

Bauhaus

Prince and the Revolution

Joy Division

Fleetwood Mac

Devo

Van Halen

Van Halen (again)

Led Zeppelin

Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Genesis

Primus

Ramones

Yes

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Kraftwerk

The Alan Parsons Project

Hall and Oates

Echo and the Bunnymen

Tears for Fears

The Psychedelic Furs

Misfits

Living Colour

XTC

Adam and the Ants

Run-DMC

King Crimson

Public Enemy

KISS

N.W.A.

Whitesnake

Black Sabbath

Deep Purple

L.A. Guns

W.A.S.P.

Pantera

Styx

B-52’s

Vixen

The Go Go’s

The Residents

Pretenders

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Asia

Jethro Tull

Green Day

Journey

Wham!

Pet Shop Boys

The Who

Scorpions

Heart

Ratt

The Beach Boys

Queensrÿche

The Cars

Foreigner

Marillion

GWAR

Max Webster

Twisted Sister

Stray Cats

Megadeth

The Stone Roses

Slayer

Operation Ivy

Bam Bam

Cybotron

Steve Miller Band

The Highwaymen

10cc

Fugazi

Minor Threat

Dead Kennedys

Blackfoot

Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble

Dire Straits

Electric Light Orchestra

The J. Geils Band

Judas Priest

Motörhead

Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young

Elvis Costello and the Attractions

Chicago

The Replacements

The Kinks

Pixies

Men at Work

Stryper

Faster Pussycat

Thin Lizzy

Grateful Dead

Sepultura

Bananarama

Nine Inch Nails

Foghat

Blue Öyster Cult

Culture Club

Tesla

Soundgarden

Berlin

Boston

Public Image Ltd

Pink Floyd

The Professionals

Starship

REO Speedwagon

Extreme

Shonen Knife

Night Ranger

De La Soul

Salt-N-Pepa

Earth, Wind & Fire

X

X Japan

The The

The Time

Steely Dan

Godley & Creme

The Tragically Hip

Dexys Midnight Runners

The Cross

Sonic Youth

Roxy Music

The Rolling Stones

Hüsker Dü

DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince

New Kids on the Block

Huey Lewis and the News

Eurythmics

A Flock of Seagulls

The Blues Brothers

Love and Rockets

Strawberry Switchblade

Los Lobos

Santana

Oingo Boingo

Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

A-ha

Crack the Sky

Crowded House

Yellow Magic Orchestra

Eric B. & Rakim

Commodores

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

KIX

White Zombie

UB40

Great White

Bruce Hornsby and the Range

White Lion

.38 Special

The Tubes

Utopia

The Sugarcubes

Faith No More

Throbbing Gristle

Ministry

'til tuesday

Sparks

Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band

The Oak Ridge Boys

The Judds

Dinosaur Jr.

The Moody Blues

Pat Metheney Group

INXS

Status Quo

Melvins

Pandora's Box

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark

New Order

Meat Puppets

Descendents

The Fall

Spandau Ballet

Thompson Twins

Tom Tom Club

Jane's Addict

Bob Marley and the Wailers

Modern English

Cutting Crew

My Bloody Valentine

Black Flag

Wire

The Cult

The Jesus and Mary Chain

The Specials

Missing Persons

Simply Red

The Romantics

Madness

Violent Femmes

Skinny Puppy

Cocteau Twins

The Damned

Simple Minds

Frankie Goes to Hollywood

TISM (This Is Serious Mum)

The Cockroaches

The Allman Brothers Band

Cold Chisel

Midnight Oil

NOFX

The Crucifucks

America

Bad Religion

Helloween

Mother Love Bone

The KLF (a.k.a. The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, a.k.a. The Timelords) [same group, just used numerous names]

Dog Police

Frank Chickens

Men Without Hats

Europe

Can I submit propaganda?

Not right now. If you do I won’t post it until the polls start which looking right now could be a while. But it will be posted eventually

can I submit more than one band?

yes!! Go wild

Some blogs that inspired this

@billboard-hotties-tourney

@the-80s-music-colosseum

#80s bands #80s music #80s glam #80s metal #80s rock #tournament poll #tumblr tournament #The hottest 80s band tournament #80s pop #80s post punk #80s country #80s #1980s #eighties

[thekatebridgerton]

But can you imagine an au where Penelope uses lady Whistledown to troll the ton's couples with the worst romantic writing ever. Just for fun.

Dear Reader

I'll have you know that last night at the Danbury ball Miss Kate Sharma was seen heaving a tragic sigh with her bubbling bossom, as Mr Dorset told her that her beauty and beautiful songbird voice had driven him to forsake his vows to his beloved Joanna who currently laid dying of consumption in an insane asylum and here he was confessing his love to her. But Miss Kate knew it could never be, because Mr Dorset was secretly her long lost third cousin twice removed and she could never truly love him back. Meanwhile Miss Edwina and Viscount Bridgerton continued their torrid race to ruin as Viscount Bridgerton jiggled his manly hips and hipnotized Edwina into accepting his advances but that very same night Miss Kate Sharma and the Viscount ended up doing something that would shatter their lives and...... to read more of this story subscribe to Lady Whistledown column every Tuesday and Friday for 5 guineas a piece "

Cue Penelope writing the most torrid real person fanfiction about Kanthony and the rest of the Bridgertons because she figured that badly written romance serials sold well among nobility and that's where the money is at.

And of course Kate and Anthony want to find the writer who is exaggerating their lives and turning it into a telenovela. So Anthony assigns Colin to catch LW. All while Penelope is happily writing the worst romantic sickeningly sweet maiden fanfiction and enjoying herself as she describes him as possessing 'manly thighs that flexed with the strength of a elephant' and enjoying herself inmensly. Cue Colin being absolutely ready to kill Lady Whistledown and making it his mission to take her down

Bonus if Penelope's serials become very popular with young debutantes like Edwina, Felicity and Hyacinth who will absolutely defend their favorite novelist! Because they really need to know what happens next in 'the saga of the giggling pectorals' so Colin ends up finding out that there's nothing scarier than teenage girls obsessed with a work of fiction.

Of course, he stumbles upon Penelope's secret entirely by accident, because he thinks she's being led astray by LW meeting with a Fabio eske lover

#polin #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #polin au #novelist au

[afewproblems]

Just listening to The Tragically Hip this morning and thinking about Steve and Eddie being sweet to one another, Eddie always manages to say the loveliest things -he's always been good with words when it matters. Eddie also has no self control and lets his words leap from his mouth as soon as they pop into his head, sometimes this gets him into trouble, but more often than not it makes Steve simply melt with how sweet Eddie is.

It's a normal Tuesday night. They're at the Munson trailer, sitting on Eddie's bed; Steve is reading a borrowed copy of The Hobbit while Eddie writes in his notebook --planning out a new campaign for Hellfire.

Eddie looks up every now and then, sending a soft smile his boyfriends way as he takes in the relaxed pose and concentration in Steve's eyes as he reads. There's a grin forming on his lips and his eyes crease at the corners and Eddie has never loved anyone more.

"You're like a constellation," Eddie hums as he puts his pen down into the crease of the notebook, apropos of nothing.

Steve looks up, his small grin blooms into a bright smile that takes over his freckled face, "What? What makes you say that?"

Eddie thinks for a moment, before crawling over and taking the book from Steve's hands, he dog ears the page and puts it onto the side table.

"You, Steve Harrington, are a constellation, every part of you is beautiful and amazing on its own, and you revealed yourself one star at a time".

Steve blinks once, twice, "Eds, you can't just say shit like that," he says, his voice slightly wet.

"Watch me," Eddie whispers before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the apple of Steve's cheek.

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #i needed to write something soft after that last one #steve x eddie #listening to the tragically hip #bobcaygeon #eddie says the sweetest things sometimes #its unpredictable

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

TMI Tuesday (on a tuesday!!)

ahh thanks for the tag @ineffabildaddy i finally have some wips i can talk about :))

Masters of Fate (technically a wip loll)

Falling Stars

Only Human

a very tragic fic im working on with @fearandhatred :))

Dear Angel and My Dear Crowley are also wips i guess lol

Ask me stuff about:

my wips

fanfic writer questions here and here

send a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

send an ask directly to a character in one of my fics

if u have anything else to say/ask about my fics then go for itt

no pressure tags: @eybefioro @fearandhatred @ghostsparrow @captainblou @seven-fags-in-his-palm @crowleys-hips @foolishlovers @sabotage-on-mercury @kenobismullet

#good omens #good omens fanfic #tmi tuesday #crowley #aziraphale #ask game #tag game #ineffable husbands #ramble gamble

[freeuselandonorris]

hello please some unhinged mctwinks exploring the post-podium opportunities to, idk, pee on each other or sth (your pal emptyhalf)

this is a GOD TIER PROMPT and one of many reasons i treasure you.

this is 2500 words of filth. i’ll x-post it to AO3 for anyone who’d rather read there!

cw: piss kink, spit, generally gross boys being gross. don’t say i didn’t warn you !!

“You know what’s, like, actually really fucking sad,” Lando says, rolling onto his back so he’s at a weird right-angle to Oscar and craning his neck at a truly stupid angle to look up at him. 

Oscar prods him in the head with his socked foot. “Go on. I’m sure this will be very tragic.”

Lando sighs dramatically and bats at Oscar’s foot. “I feel like—how do we even celebrate this?”

They’ve been hanging out in Oscar’s bedroom for nearly three hours now and neither of them has initiated sex, which is bizarre and unnatural. Mostly it’s probably because they’re both still jet-lagged. Oscar’s had a couple of beers already—this is his only cheat day between now and the end of the season and damnit, he wants to take advantage—but largely all it’s doing is making him feel a bit sleepy.

“What do you mean,” he says, and kicks Lando gently in the head again. “Did you want a parade? Naked girls holding signs saying ‘well done Lando and Oscar’ and doing the can-can in the living room?”

“Yeah, I’d take that,” Lando says. “Wait, the can-can? Are you from the past?”

“I’m sure Zak’s planned something extremely cringe for tomorrow,” Oscar says, ignoring him. “And then you can spend an hour bitching about how much you hate it and also hate being the centre of attention.” He finishes the last mouthful of his beer, which is warm and slightly foamy. 

Lando groans and flops his arms over his face. “You know how most of them celebrate? I bet George gets, like, a blowjob. That’s his special treat.” The disdain dripping from his voice is something else. He grabs Oscar’s foot and rubs it over his face, because he’s fucking disgusting like that. Oscar’s not a foot guy but he’ll allow it. “Like, a Tuesday for us is basically birthdays and anniversaries for them.”

“‘Them,’” Oscar echoes, putting his empty bottle down so he can do the air quotes. 

Lando puts Oscar’s toes into his mouth and chews at them thoughtfully. He really is fucking vile. Oscar’s so fucking fond of him. He curls his toes against Lando’s teeth and then pulls away, grimacing at the feeling of wet sock. 

“Normals,” Lando says, and wriggles up to straddle Oscar. “Yanno. The straights.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but grabs Lando by the hips. They tussle briefly, until Oscar gets a hand under Lando’s hoodie and tweaks his nipple, making him yelp and squirm pleasingly over Oscar’s semi. “So you’re saying you’re sad because you’re having too much good sex and you got a podium? Fuck up, mate.”

Lando grins down at him, tongue running along the edges of his sharp little teeth. “I’m just saying. A blowie doesn’t feel like a fitting tribute.” 

He has to stifle a giggle as he says ‘blowie’. Oscar scrunches his nose. 

“Maybe we need to move onto the weird stuff,” he says idly, stretching his arms out above his head and grabbing the headboard so his t-shirt rides up. Predictably, Lando takes the hint and shoves it the rest of the way up to his armpits, licks a broad hot stripe down his sternum.

“What do you mean, weird stuff,” says Lando against his right pec, sounding hurt. “I thought we already did weird stuff.” 

To prove his point, he lifts his head just far enough to spit, saliva dripping from his pursed lips to run in a hot trickle down the dip of Oscar’s stomach. Lando catches it with his tongue before it runs into his navel, licking it back up.

“You are so fucking vile,” Oscar says, like his cock’s not jumping in his sweatpants. “I dunno, you came second, didn’t you? Dealer’s choice.”

Lando pushes himself up then, squinting at Oscar. “Anything I want,” he says, sing-song like he’s testing the waters. His eyes are gleaming.

“Within reason,” Oscar amends. Just in case. To get things moving along a bit faster, he wriggles out of his t-shirt.

Lando tips his head to one side, thoughtful. 

“You look like a really stupid dog when you do that,” Oscar tells him, and Lando punches him in the stomach, then immediately undermines his effort to seem offended by tipping himself forward and bracing himself with his hands either side of Oscar’s head so he can rub himself off against Oscar’s thigh. 

“Right,” he says, gazing right at Oscar from about four inches away. He’s got annoyingly beautiful eyes, which is a problem because it makes it very hard for Oscar to deny him anything at all, ever. Thank God they race with helmets on. “I wanna piss in your lap.”

It’s so far removed from what Oscar had been expecting to hear—it’s not even a combination of words he’s entirely sure makes sense together—that he splutters into laughter, accidentally knocking their foreheads together. Lando makes a high, offended noise and bites at his jaw.

“That’s not a thing,” Oscar tells him, letting Lando kiss him briefly, tongues sliding messily across each other.

“Yes it is,” Lando says when he pulls back. “I saw it on xHamster.” He bites at Oscar’s top lip, a sharp nip, then sits up, bratty and dishevelled. “C’mon, you said anything I wanted and I wanna try this.”

He’s already tugging at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. Oscar shoves his hands away, trying not to get distracted by the heavy shape of his cock distending the front of them. “Whoa. No piss on the bed, fuck off.”

Lando actually pouts at that, like Oscar’s being somehow unreasonable. Oscar loses his internal battle and cups him through his joggers, rubbing the head with his palm. Lando’s eyelashes flutter pleasingly. 

“Fine—ah—fine, we’ll go in the bath then,” he says. His voice has gone slightly breathy already. He’s so easy for it. “Here, bring that blanket for us to lie on.” 

He waves a hand at the grey blanket thrown over the chair Oscar uses for laundry storage. “Oh, come on,” Oscar says. “My mum bought that.”

Lando shrugs and slithers off Oscar’s lap to check the label. “Here,” he says, waving it triumphantly. “Machine washable, 40C.” He pronounces it like sees. Probably he’s never met a washing machine in his life. 

Oscar lifts his hands in defeat. “Fine. Go on.” 

It feels extremely silly watching Lando spread the blanket out across the bottom of the bath and then lying down on it while Lando pulls his hoodie off, trying to keep all the tender bits of his body out of Lando’s way while he gets himself in and straddles Oscar’s lap. It’s not a bad-sized bath, but it’s not really built for two. 

He pulls his knees up slightly so Lando’s tipped slightly forward, one hand steadying himself on Oscar’s shoulder, their erections snug against each other with layers of fabric in between.

“This better be worth it,” he says when Lando’s finally got himself settled. “So much admin.” 

He can’t help but rock up into the warm weight of Lando across his hips. Lando beams down at him, grinding against him so hard it’s on the verge of crushing his balls, but in a good way, somehow. Oscar lets his head fall back against the bathtub with a dull thunk.

“Alright, alright,” Lando says, breathing noisily. “Shut up, yeah, let me just—“ 

It’s actually happening, Oscar realises with a senseless thrill down his spine. Half of him hadn’t really believed Lando was going to actually do it, had assumed he’d just named the grossest thing he could think of to fuck with Oscar’s head. Which is probably still true, but.

Lando bites his bottom lip and squirms, screwing his face up. Oscar’s gaze flicks down between their legs just in time to see a wet spot appear on Lando’s sweats, darker green against the neon. 

“Fuck,” Oscar says involuntarily, feeling himself flush. His cock kicks in his pants for no discernible reason. 

Lando squawks and hits him in the chest. “Don’t commentate!” He writhes, looking briefly agonised. “Oh, you prick. I’ve lost it now. Fuck.”

“Oh my god,” Oscar mutters. “Look, I’ll shut my eyes until you get going, yeah?”

He does so, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. He listens to Lando grumbling under his breath and shifting around on top of him, and then everything goes still and silent. Oscar’s about to take his hands away and ask if everything’s okay, but then Lando lets out a sudden rush of held breath and his fingers tighten on Oscar’s shoulders. 

Nothing happens for a second, and then the wetness soaks through Oscar’s joggers and he lets out a strangled gasp.

It’s—not good exactly, but it’s intense. Lando’s grinding lightly against him as he pisses, drenching them both at once. It’s hotter than he’d have expected, both in terms of the temperature of it and the way it makes his cock twitch as his pants begin to stick to him. 

And then he opens his eyes and looks at Lando’s face. 

He can’t stop his little groan: Lando looks the same way he does when Oscar’s fucking him, head tipped back, bottom lip caught between his incisors, flash of tongue visible behind. 

Oscar looks down the line of their bodies, at the soaking patch covering both of their laps, the sodden fabric clinging to the outline of Lando’s erection. He reaches out and covers it with his hand, squeezing him through the dripping fabric, letting it run over his hand. It looks utterly obscene through the wet fabric. He’s really unfairly hung for someone who looks in all other respects like a particularly ripped 12-year-old. Maybe it’s a perspective trick.

Lando slits open his eyes, gazing down at Oscar. He looks fucked-out already, and Oscar grabs at his thighs to give himself more leverage to grind himself up. Lando laughs, a rough sound low in his throat, and shoves his soaked sweatpants down his hips far enough to get his cock out and piss all over Oscar’s stomach.

It’s the wrongness of it that’s the turn-on, Oscar thinks distantly, stomach twitching under the stream. It’s viscerally filthy in a way that he’ll probably have a crisis over later, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck.

“Up a bit,” he says, surprising them both. Lando inhales sharply, the ragged edges of his fingernails biting into Oscar’s shoulder where he’s still holding himself steady with his free hand. He adjusts his angle, sending a stream across Oscar’s chest. It pools into the hollow of his neck, running back into his hair. 

Oscar opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue just a bit.

“Oh, you’re nasty,” Lando murmurs, delighted. Oscar raises his eyebrows, curling his tongue. It’s always nice to shock Lando. Rare, but nice.

Lando has to kneel up a bit, slipping on the wet blanket beneath them, and the loss of contact to his dick absolutely fucking sucks, but it’s worth it for his expression when he manages to hit Oscar’s cheek and chin and spray across his tongue.

Oscar splutters a bit, more at the sensation than the taste—it’s not really getting far enough into his mouth to actually taste it, just spitting it back down his chin, letting it run down. Lando’s eyes are blank and unfocused with pleasure, mouth hanging open. Oscar does his best to hold his gaze. 

“Fucking gross,” Lando affirms as his stream begins to slow to a trickle, dribbling over his fingers and Oscar’s stomach. He says it like the highest of compliments. His pupils are blown, and he grins loose and pleased before he tips in to kiss Oscar hard, mouth running over his wet skin. 

“Your fucking idea,” Oscar says into his mouth, laughing—he can barely get the words out, muffled by Lando sticking his tongue down his throat. 

He’s jerking off fast an eager, arm moving so fast Oscar can feel the movement of it through his thighs. Oscar pushes wet hands into his hair, holding him in place as Lando’s mouth falters against his. He’s definitely gonna have beard burn from Lando’s appalling facial hair, but whatever. 

Lando moans into his mouth and comes all over Oscar’s stomach. The mess of it immediately begins to slide down Oscar’s side and he sends yet another mental apology to his mum’s blanket before grabbing Lando by the hips and yanking him down to sit on his dick.

Yelping, Lando drops his forearm to Oscar’s shoulder, one hand wrestling his softening cock back into his pants before Oscar accidentally squashes him. Oscar fights him down, thrusting up greedily and trying to pin Lando in place. His brain is wiped clean of all impulses except grinding Lando’s arse against his soaking, trussed-up dick until he comes.

For all he sometimes acts like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs when he’s not in the car, Lando’s got surprisingly good hip action. Their stomachs slip against each other, slick with Lando’s come. Oscar claws at the small of his back, plants his feet and shoves his hips up to meet each roll of Lando’s. 

Lando giggles and shoves three fingers between his parted lips, fucking Oscar’s mouth, smearing spit. Oscar doesn’t even feel bad that he bites down when he comes into his pants, Lando pinned down so hard against him he can hardly breathe.

They sort of collapse against each other once Oscar’s finished shaking and whimpering and sucking on Lando’s fingers to muffle the more embarrassing noises threatening to get out. All at once, Oscar becomes aware that he feels absolutely disgusting. His mouth tastes vaguely of salt. 

“Wow,” Lando says after a minute. It takes him a couple of attempts to sit up properly. He looks like Oscar feels: a bit shell-shocked, a lot fucked-out. 

“You’re doing the washing,” Oscar mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Lando grins and ducks down to kiss him again, sweeter now. 

“Just leave it all in here and we’ll shower and rinse it all off in one go,” he says, shuffling back until he can offer Oscar a hand to pull him up. “And then we can go lie down and I’ll explain why all your opinions about the new Counter-Strike are wrong.”

“Sounds good,” Oscar says a bit blearily. One thing you can say in Lando’s favour is he doesn’t mind if you nap through his infodumps.

Lando smiles at him in a way that looks worryingly fond and drags himself up to sit on the edge of the tub so he can unhook the shower head and get the water running warm. 

“I’d better get thinking,” he says contemplatively.

“About what?” Oscar says, trying to struggle out of his wet pants. He’s gonna get clean and drag himself to bed and sleep for about four hours, and then he’s gonna make Lando fuck him through the mattress.

Lando smirks and aims the shower at his face. “About what I’m gonna do to you when I win.”

#do i put this in the main tag? #yeah fuck it #lando norris/oscar piastri #mctwinks #ln4 #op81 #prompt fill

[crusherthedoctor]

Let’s say you were tasked with adapting Tangle and Whisper into the game canon, and the comics aren’t considered canon. How would you approach that?

I've actually danced with the thought about how I would personally tackle the IDW exclusives if they had to be inserted into the games.... albeit some more than others. (Belle doesn't give me a lot to work with due to being so bland and existing solely as a reminder of a dragged out sub-plot that currently does not exist in the games, and Rough and Tumble are sort of inherently embarrassing.)

With Tangle and Whisper, the solution with them is fairly straightforward: just don't flanderize them. Tangle as a newbie who is overeager and a bit clumsy, but well-meaning, is fine. Whisper as a reclusive who gradually opens up is also fine. (I realise that sounds similar to Blaze on paper, but as evidenced with a certain horsie of mine, I think similar base concepts can be tackled in different ways). Their downfall in the comic stems from being turned into an utterly clueless asshole and a wangst dispenser who belts out a rage face every Tuesday respectively. That and them being constantly joined at the hip.

There's also the small matter of Whisper's tragic backstory relying on her old teammates having below room temperature IQ and getting sent to the shadow realm by a Sonic.exe stand-in. But that probably wouldn't require too much to fix either.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Tangle the Lemur #Whisper the Wolf

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

You can't say "happiness" without saying "penis".

There's only one company that makes Monopoly.

The world’s most common disease is tooth decay.

13 Americans have died as a result of laxative overdose.

The most searched-for tutorial video on YouTube is ‘How To Kiss’.

The acnestis is the part of the back that is impossible to scratch.

A boar produces 200 ml of semen each time it ejaculates, compared to a human’s 3 ml.

Quantophrenia is an obsessive reliance on statistics. Only 14% of people know this.

At least one person a week in the UK changes their middle name to ‘Danger’.

Baby elephants will suck on their trunks for comfort just like human babies suck on their thumbs.

Homosexual behaviour has been found in over 1,500 species. Homophobia is found in only one.

People who read regularly are two and a half times less likely to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

The word ambisinistrous is the opposite of ambidextrous; it means ‘no good with either hand’. (That’s not me!)

If you come across a person who believes there are no English words with more syllables than vowels, they might not accept criticism.

The Maruyama Zoo in Japan spent four years trying to get two hyenas to mate before realising they were both male.

Older sexually active women are more likely to be sexually satisfied than their younger counterparts.

Only 31% of men and 65% of women wash their hands after using the toilet.

A ‘riot’ in England and Wales must legally involve a minimum of 12 people. Under US federal law, it’s only three people and, in Nevada, only two!

Mozart once composed a song entitled, ‘Leck Mir Den Arsch Fein Recht Schon Sauber’. Which means, "Lick my arse right, well and clean".

Karen alert! In 2015, an Ohio woman unhappy with her Chinese food order called 911 to complain. Instead of getting her money back, she got arrested.

In 1987, a Chicago man placed an advert in a local newspaper asking 2.8 million people to send him a penny each to pay for his college education. It worked.

In the novel that the film Pinocchio was based on, Jiminy Cricket was brutally murdered and Pinocchio had his feet burned off and was hanged by villagers.

There are two rhymes in English for purple: curple, a strap passing under a horse’s tail, and hirple, to walk along dragging one leg behind the other. (Do you feel a song coming on?)

According to a study conducted in 2012, people who complain actually live longer by about two years. This is because by complaining they release their tension which increases their immunity and boosts their health.

A 2013 study determined that Viagra is an extremely effective treatment for painful menstruation. However, the review panel determined that cramps were not a public health priority and refused further funding.

In 2016, Live Nation acknowledged for the first time that two-thirds of tickets for the Tragically Hip's final tour were purchased and resold by bots and brokers, leaving less than one-third available for fans to buy at face value.

The new mayor of Cockington in Devon has been banned from his local pub where he was a regular, known for drinking Guinness. The new mayor of Cockington is also a four-year-old Shetland pony called Patrick.

In the US, Google searches for: "Why is my poop green?" peak between 5.00 a.m. and 6.00 a.m., "How to roll a joint" peak between 1.00 a.m. and 2.00 a.m., searches for adult videos peak at 1.30 a.m. and searches for "lonely" peak at 2.30 a.m.

There were over 600 attempts to assassinate Fidel Castro by the U.S. government. Plots included: poisoned cigars, infected scuba equipment and pens rigged with poison. Castro once joked, "If surviving assassination attempts were an Olympic event, I'd win Gold."

Madonna once leaked a fake version of her album to music pirates where each song was a loop of her saying, "What the f*ck do you think you're doing?" In response, a hacker leaked the real album to her own site with the message, "This is what the f*ck I think I'm doing."

BTS can officially be crowned the most popular group in the world after smashing the record for most streamed male group on Spotify for a second time. Their music has been streamed a massive 31,960,000,000 times as of March 3rd, 2023, a number that is nearly double the 16.3 billion streams when they last set the record in April 2021.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #tuesdaymotivation #radio

[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Cozy Mysteries

Mrs. Plansky's Revenge by Spencer Quinn

Mrs. Loretta Plansky, a recent widow in her seventies, is settling into retirement in Florida while dealing with her 98-year-old father and fielding requests for money from her beloved children and grandchildren. Thankfully, her new hip hasn’t changed her killer tennis game one bit.

One night Mrs. Plansky is startled awake by a phone call from a voice claiming to be her grandson Will, who desperately needs ten thousand dollars to get out of a jam. Of course, Loretta obliges―after all, what are grandmothers for, even grandmothers who still haven’t gotten a simple “thank you” for a gift sent weeks ago. Not that she's counting.

By morning, Mrs. Plansky has lost everything. Law enforcement announces that Loretta's life savings have vanished, and that it’s hopeless to find the scammers behind the heist. First humiliated, then furious, Loretta Plansky refuses to be just another victim.

In a courageous bid for justice, Mrs. Plansky follows her only clue on a whirlwind adventure to a small village in Romania to get her money and her dignity back―and perhaps find a new lease on life, too.

Peg and Rose Stir Up Trouble by Laurien Berenson

When a typically closed-off Peg attempts online dating at Rose’s strong urging, the experience plays out like an embarrassing mistake. At least, until she matches with Nolan Abercrombie—intelligent, attractive, and a self-proclaimed dog lover. The two share an instant connection that has Peg cautiously excited to finally bring someone special into her busy world of Standard Poodles and conformation shows.

Before Peg can admit that Rose was right and let down her walls for the budding romance, a terrible accident claims Nolan’s life. As details about his background and tragic death come to light, Peg has a serious hunch that someone successfully plotted to kill her first real date in decades . . .

With suspects galore and a slew of puzzling clues to peel through, Peg and Rose team up to solve a dangerous mystery unfolding before their eyes. The question is: Can the unlikely duo turn their radically different personalities into an advantage as they scramble to ID the guilty culprit—or will they manage to work against each other and find themselves precisely where a meticulous murderer wants them to be?

This is the second volume of the "Senior Sleuths Mystery" series.

Read to Death at the Lakeside Library by Holly Danvers

Summer is in full swing as tourists flock back to the Northwoods and travel to Lofty Pines, Wisconsin. For Rain Wilmot, owner of the Lakeside Library, this is the perfect opportunity to bring back her mother’s summer book club. But the summer sun starts to really heat up when one of the club’s members, Lily Redlin, is found dead in her own home not long after the first meeting.

Alongside her sidekick and neighbor Julia Reynolds and the charming Jace Lowe, Rain discovers that the murder is seemingly inspired by the book club’s recent selection of Agatha Christie’s classic mystery novel, Sparkling Cyanide. But who would kill Lily, and more importantly, why?

The deeper Rain goes into the story, the more confusing and complicated the plot becomes. Was Lily murdered to cover up a tragic accident involving an old classmate years earlier? Or were the rumors true—did Lily really possess priceless original Laura Ingles Wilder manuscripts and someone killed her for them? And who stands to gain the recently inherited piece of waterfront property that Lily received from a long-lost relative?

With a long list of suspects and motives, Rain realizes that all leads come back to people involved in the book club. Rain and her friends take a page from Agatha Christie’s book by hosting a reenactment of the club’s first meeting to flush out the killer. Will Rain’s plan succeed—or will this librarian’s book be checked out for good?

This is the third volume of the "Lakeside Library Mystery" series.

Take the Honey and Run by Jennie Marts

As a successful mystery author, Bailey Briggs writes about murder, but nothing prepares her for actually discovering the dead body of the founder of her hometown of Humble Hills, Colorado. Bailey grew up at Honeybuzz Mountain Ranch and was raised by her beekeeping grandmother, Blossom Briggs, aka Granny Bee, and her two eccentric sisters, Aster and Marigold—which is why she drops everything to come home and help Granny Bee after a bad fall.

A broken foot doesn’t stop her grandmother from ruling The Hive, her granny’s book club, or continuing to prepare and package her bee-inspired products. But when Bailey's grandmother’s infamous "Honey I'm Home" hot spiced honey turns out to “bee” the murder weapon and her granny is now the prime suspect, Bailey has no choice but to use her fictional detective skills to help solve the murder and ‘smoke-out’ the real culprit.

With the help of Bailey’s witty bestie, a pair of meddling aunts, the feisty members of The Hive, and her computer-savvy daughter, this amateur sleuth is determined to solve the case. A malicious attack and an ominous threat reveal that someone wants Bailey to butt out of the investigation, but there’s no way she’s backing down. She must use her skills to uncover the truth and catch the clever culprit before her grandmother ends up bee-hind bars.

This is the first volume of "A Bee Keeping Mystery" series.

#cozy mystery #cozy murder mystery #mystery books #reading recommendations #reading recs #book recommendations #book recs #library books #to read #tbrpile #tbr #booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog #new books

[buckttommy]

honestly jack i don't really Get why i love macdennis so much either bc they're toxic af (but that's the point, everyone on the show are just Awful People) but i just love them! they met in high school, mac was dennis' drug dealer, dennis went to college then after college mac moved into his apartment (didn't even pay half rent just lives with him bc!!) and then they bought the bar with charlie (but tried to trick him/and achieved to sell his shares to them multiple times). even when their apartment burned down they moved in to a house together and when they couldn't stand a house they moved in with dee (dennis' sister) together (sort of on a failed dare type thing but either way they're attached at the hip it would have been both of them anyways) mac has chronically been in love with dennis for life, but only came out as gay in s12 of the show (in his very late 30s). dennis is "straight" and hooks up with many a woman but doesn't date them. but goes on monthly dinner dates with mac, and has tuesday movie nights with mac. they are currently in their mid-40s and still live in the same apartment (after it burned mac had it remodeled) together that they have for 20-something years bc they just can't be Without Each Other, ever. i love the tragicness of them being together, but not Together for 20+ years. 🥺

(sorry jack... 🤦‍♀️)

I was sitting on this message until I finished this fic, and like... I get it now. I Get It.

#macdennis #jack answers mail

[chocolate-teapots]

Getting Down: Buddy Griffith

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

In which Buddy’s desk was actually a lot smaller

than you thought it was...

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Warnings: swearing, innuendos, grinding, Buddy Griffith deserves his own warning he’s such an underrated babe

It's weird how one tiny action can have a ginormous knock-on effect on everything in your life.

If you disagree and totally see how this is possible, I bet you that getting stuck under a table is not a thing you would recognise as one of those tiny actions.

It was 3:55 on a Tuesday and I was spending my empty time after school with my buddy, Buddy. We didn't really have to do much, I just stood and laughed for a while at his new room revamping with tits and ass every place you looked. It was hilarious- well hilarious if you hadn't been crushing on the kid since you could both hold hands in the playground.

He was like a brother to me at this point but like a hot brother that you just want to take- okay maybe not brother...

He claims to not remember but I was closer to Buddy as a kid than his sister, Terri. We'd skip around the yard, hand in hand not caring about the teeny tiny insults being thrown at us by people who had only just learned to speak.

But that's the way it was and over the years I realised, I didn't do that out of friendship but for a totally selfish reason which was that I liked him a lot, no not even that loved! Then it was too late, his hormonal brain caught up with his mouth and now there's pussy all over his walls.

Tragic.

"God damn it, Buddy, will you stop throwing that damn ring around? You're gonna take one of those girls' eyes out!"

For the past 30 minutes, Buddy has found peace in taking my ring off of my own finger and tossing it at the wall so that it bounces back to him. I'm not sure he really understood the value in things like that but it wasn't as if it was a relic. I got it online. I just liked it.

"Okay sorry, one more!"

And with that, the ring doesn't bounce back this time and his face drops.

There is an echoing sound of silver falling behind his narrow desk, piled underneath with shelves and old hobbies of his that never truly went away. I glare at him and he shrugs as an apology.

Perfect.

I knew he wasn't gonna get it, not wanting to get his jeans dirty probably so I roll up my sleeves and get ready to go under...the desk.

I crawl under and I hear the silence of anticipation behind me. I leave it all behind to go into the dusty cave that was the underneath of Buddy's desk. Having so much Pizza was maybe a bad idea since I had to really squeeze to get through. I used my carrots to better my eyesight and eventually found my ring.

"Got it!" I shout in victory, feeling the cool metal beneath my dirty fingers.

"Buddy?"

"Oh- uh- um...yeah?"

I furrowed my brows in confusion with his really weird response. I couldn't wait to get the answer as I crawled away from the desk, shaking his shoulders in my dusty hands ready to lecture him about respecting others' possessions.

I couldn't wait but maybe I'd have to since I didn't seem to be moving from under the desk.

Shit.

My boobs squeezed against the tiny shelf on the other side, which was currently closing me in like a nutcracker. I panicked, shuffling about a bit until I realised I was probably royally screwed.

The breeze was travelling up my skirt from the outside but down here, the heat was invading my face at an insane pace. The confusion was all around, including my friend on the other side who was calling out to me, a little too nervous to be laughing at me.

"Buddy help me," I grunt, wincing at the feeling of my boobs pressing against the wood that was sending splinters through me like I had fallen down a hole on top of a billion toothpicks all at once.

I hear the scrambling of his converse behind me, rushing to help me and not noticing the awkward position until it was a little too late.

He was on his knees behind me, either hand on the side of my hips, crotch digging into my butt furiously as he tries to pull me out. It was suggestive, wild and driving me crazier than this claustrophobic feeling. The position, if walked in on, would be one for the history books and no explanation whatsoever could justify why Buddy Griffith was dry humping my ass right now.

"Buddy..."

He doesn't say anything, frozen in the spot with only one thing moving and getting harder and harder and let's just say it wasn't his grip.

Despite the determination in my voice, I was ready to give up my freedom in the outside world just for him to stop pulling and start pushing straight into me as the feeling was unbelievably empowering for a little girl like me.

That escalated quickly!

"Keep pulling," that brings him back to reality, ready to pull me out again with a raging boner and an ass fully on show for him that's actually not from his posters but from his friend stupidly deciding to wear a skirt that day!

"How can I pull you? I can literally see your underwear right now!" He exclaims.

"Just pull me damn it! I'm getting claustrophobic down here and there's a dirty pizza! What the fuck is that moving on it! It's moving! Oh my god, Buddy quick!"

He pulls.

"Stop saying my name like that it's not helping!"

He pulls harder.

"Stop listening to me and keep pulling so I don't have to keep feeling your boner on me right now!"

And harder again.

"It's the pictures Y/N! I can't help myself! They're staring at me dry humping a girl and I can't deal with it!"

And harder and harder again.

"Well if you were actually gonna do it I expect a little more effort thank you very much- Harder Buddy, I'm almost there!"

He pulls and pulls and pulls.

"Y/N," he grunts, holding my butt and continuing to pull.

"You got it-"

He continues to pull when I'm free sending us both tumbling backwards into the place with clean air and fewer creatures living off of Buddy's lazy bacteria.

When I was hurled backwards he came with me at the same speed until he hit the wood of his bed. This boy really had to start investing in some plastic or else I'd turn into a spike ball.

With a groan from both of us, we slumped against the wall, my back on top of his stomach. I clutching my back which was aching with my position for a minute or ten under his desk on all fours. That sounds really wrong...

I roll off of him and gather my surroundings, not even managing to take in the cobwebs on his ceiling before his face blocks it and that familiar crotch is connected with me again. Why did he roll on top of me?

We were caught in the moment and when e asked me to kiss him, there was something else in his eyes that wasn't desperation.

"Kiss me Y/N," his voice echoes and I find myself staring at his lips to crave what I could be touching.

So I do.

And I didn't regret the bruising on my ribs one bit.

#80s movie #80s imagines #just one of the guys #buddy griffith

[the-hottest-band-tournament]

Master list

Just a master list for round one. To find the poll search the band.

Van Halen vs. “Van Hagar”

The Residents vs. Hanoi Rocks

ZZ Top vs. Guns’N Roses

Bon Jovi vs. Salt-N-Pepa

Queen vs. Green Day

Heart vs. L.A. Guns

U2 vs. New Kids on the Block

De La Soul vs. Dead Kennedys

Skid Row vs. The Bangles

Dokken vs. The Crucifucks

Europe vs. Iron Maiden

Aerosmith vs. Pet Shop Boys

REO Speedwagon vs. The Professionals

Eric B. & Rakim vs. Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band

The J. Geils Band vs. Huey Lewis and the News

Faster Pussycat vs. The Kinks

Yes vs. Warrant

Cinderella vs. White Zombie

Men Without Hats vs. Wham!

Devo vs. Possessed

Vixen vs. Living Colour

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band vs. Prince and The Revolution

Scorpions vs. Pat Metheney Group

INXS vs. .38 Special

Kraftwerk vs. The Go Go’s

Fugazi vs. Slayer

AC/DC vs. The Cult

Mötley Crüe vs. Cybotron

The Police vs. Beastie Boys

The Clash vs. Blondie

Metallica vs. W.A.S.P.

Deep Purple vs. Styx

Foghat vs. Poison

Run-DMC vs. Missing Persons

Ramones vs. Blackfoot

Dexys Midnight Runners vs. The Cure

Depeche Mode vs. Anthrax

Whitesnake vs. GWAR

Siouxsie and The Banshees vs. The Allman Brothers Band

Spandeau Ballet vs. Quiet Riot

The KLF vs. The Blues Brothers

B-52’s vs. X Japan

Earth, Wind & Fire vs. Midnight Oil

Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five vs. Thompson Twins

Rush vs. Bananarama

Foreigner vs. They Might Be Giants

The Fall vs. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

The Pogues vs. The Cross

Pixies vs. Genesis

Twisted Sister vs. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Ratt vs. A Flock Of Seagulls

Fleetwood Mac vs. X

My Bloody Valentine vs. Sparks

White Lion vs. Led Zeppelin

The Smiths vs. The Who

The Cars vs. The Highwaymen

Thin Lizzy vs. Human League

Echo and the Bunnymen vs. Strawberry Switchblade

The Traveling Wilburys vs. Pink Floyd

Def Leppard vs. Meat Puppets

N.W.A. vs. Wire

Hall and Oates vs. Love and Rockets

KISS vs. Motörhead

Chicago vs. Boston

Cold Chisel vs. The Romantics

Commodores vs. Marillion

Frank Chickens vs. Ministry

The Beach Boys vs. The Tragically Hip

Starship vs. Duran Duran

Dog Police vs. Dio

Oingo Boingo vs. Stryper

The Psychedelic Furs vs. The The

Misfits vs. The Rolling Stones

Black Sabbath vs. Tom Tom Club

Public Enemy vs. Shonen Knife

Megadeth vs. Nine Inch Nails

Queensrÿche vs. DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince

A-ha vs. Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark vs. Winger

Tesla vs. Asia

Steely Dan vs. Nirvana

The Judds vs. Joy Division

Hüsker Dü vs. Pandora's Box

Extreme vs. Journey

Judas Priest vs. Electric Light Orchestra

10cc vs. Pantera

The Stone Roses vs. R.E.M

Jethro Tull vs. Bauhaus

The Jesus and Mary Chain vs. Simple Minds

Night Ranger vs. Utopia

Simply Red vs. Helloween

Stray Cats vs. Tin Machine

New Order vs. King Crimson

Red Hot Chili Peppers vs. Primus

Talking Heads vs. Los Lobos

Santana vs. The Alan Parsons Project

Spın̈al Tap vs. Elvis Costello and the Attractions

America vs. XTC

Adam and the Ants vs. The Tubes

Tears for Fears vs. Minor Threat

Eurythmics vs. Blue Öyster Cult

Soundgarden vs. Mother Love Bone

The Moody Blues vs. Melvins

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds vs. Godley & Creme

Dinosaur Jr. vs. Modern English

The Time vs. Madness

Violent Femmes vs. NOFX

Status Quo vs. Bad Religion

The Cockroaches vs. Black Flag

Roxy Music vs. Cutting Crew

Berlin vs. The Replacements

TISM (This Is Serious Mum) vs. Crack the Sky

The Damned vs. Great White

The Specials vs. Men at Work

Yellow Magic Orchestra vs. Skinny Puppy

Grateful Dead vs. Jane's Addiction

Bob Marley and the Wailers vs. Max Webster

Sepultura vs. Operation Ivy

Cocteau Twins vs. Descendents

Public Image Ltd vs. Culture Club

Sonic Youth vs. Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble

The Sugarcubes vs. Dire Straits

Crowded House vs. Bruce Hornsby and the Range

Steve Miller Band vs. Bam Bam

UB40 vs. The Oak Ridge Boys

Faith No More vs. 'Til Tuesday

Throbbing Gristle vs. Pretenders

Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young vs. KIX

#poll #tournament poll #masterlist

[annaizscribbling]

Just Out of Reach

Chapter eight of my Patton Centric psychological horror/ Dad!Patton suburban family fic.

Read on AO3 here or read chapter eight below!

CW: Blood mention. Gaslighting. Manipulation. Nightmares. Lost sense of reality. Depression. Insomnia. Child abuse (sorta?). Horror elements. Light gore.

wordcount: 5500

The next five days pass in a brightened frenzy of paper crafts, animated movies, endless animal facts, sunny midday naps, long walks filled with chatter, rowdy trips to the park, and a pile of worn-out kids squeezed on the couch together, eyes struggling to stay open as the movie winds down for the foreseen yet satisfying happy ending.

Patton was comfortably situated on the armchair pushed up against the couch. He wasn’t watching the television but preferred to admire his children instead. He didn’t dare move to find a camera or something but rather he tried to remember the moment in his mind as vividly as possible, that way he can recall it and reignite that warm spark in his heart when his head gets cloudy again.

Logan is curled into Virgil’s side, using the end of his brother’s open hoodie as a makeshift blanket. Virgil is holding his phone in one hand, occasionally glancing at it, then back at the television. His free hand is holding the snoozing toddler’s neck, keeping it from lolling into an uncomfortable position. Both twins are draped over Janus in some way, with Roman having lain himself across both Virgil’s legs and then propping himself up with Janus’ shoulders. Remus used the arm of the couch as his seat, but toppled over halfway to lean on Janus, who is mostly unbothered by them. A thin blanket is spread over his lap, as Janus is the most prone to getting chilly, even in the middle of the hottest summer months.

Something about the sight thaws parts of his heart he didn’t realize had frozen over, and somewhere deep down he makes a grave decision.

The next hectic week had Patton almost too busy to dwell on confliction or fear, he was instead caught up in the bustle of everyday life that comes with raising a gaggle of rambunctious children.

Patton also learns quite a bit about his kids.

He learns that Roman hates carrots with a fiery passion. Logan likes his juice watered down, but not if it’s cranberry juice. Patton had to pretend he forgot what day it was to cover for himself when Virgil leaves to go to a local arcade with his friends like he apparently does every Tuesday night. He learns that Remus refuses to wear both pieces of a matching pajama set, and Roman refuses to mix and match them. Janus likes to make his bed in a very particular way, and if you try and do it for him, he gives you the silent treatment for hours. Both twins can be persuaded into cleaning if you tell them to pretend to be a tragic protagonist like Cinderella, as Virgil demonstrated for Patton with a wink. Logan and Virgil can communicate without speaking somehow. Janus will find a way of tricking the twins out of their dessert if you don’t pay close attention.

And they all enjoy Crofters jam, but of course, none so much as Logan.

Something about it all seems so meant to be. Patton settles into the role as if it were second nature. Each new fact he learns about the children finds its way into his head and lodges there, as if he’d known for years and it just slipped away for a single moment. He takes each little dilemma in stride, settling petty squabbles, comforting each moment of distress, providing new and inventive meals, picking out a brightly colored band aid for each scraped knee, and sneaking up on his boys with a bear hug and a hair ruffle, that always ends in a playful tussle and a kiss on the head.

Every day is a new and unique mosaic of imperfect perfection.

He balances Logan on his hip as he vacuums, listening to him excitedly explain how he picked up all the blocks upstairs. Patton uses the end of his socked foot to kick toy cars out of the way as he vacuums and keeps an eye on the twins as they dust the shelves. He’s talking over his shoulder to Janus, telling him which disinfectant sprays can be used on the coffee table. Virgil is mopping, headphones strapped on and so loud that Patton has to tell him to turn it down before he damages his hearing.

While dusting with probably just slightly too much enthusiasm, Roman knocks a picture frame off the bookshelf, startling Remus into jumping two feet back, knocking into an unsuspecting Janus who trips and accidentally kicks the bucket of water that Virgil was mopping with, flooding the kitchen tile with dirty mop water.

And all Patton does in response to it is sigh and chuckle, ready to grab an armful of towels from the linen closet.

As big of a mess it ended up being, Patton was completely okay with it, because it was really just an inconsequential mess that could be fixed with a bit of patience and some towels. He managed to turn it into a game, getting the children’s competitive nature involved. Soon afterwards, the spill was cleaned, and they could all get back to their Saturday chores. Patton turned on some Disney music and they finished within the hour.

Everything ended up perfectly fine.

Little mishaps weren’t so bad. They were part of that messy perfection that Patton believed in. So he didn’t mind the mess. Because Patton could handle those types of messes.

It wasn’t complicated or painful. Littles messes are one sided, black and white, straightforward, manageable. They teach a lesson to be learned from and can be wrapped up neatly at the end of the day. They were simple.

Sure, even the little messes can seem massive and unsolvable to children, but Patton was the father. He had the answers, the easy fixes, the gentle nudges in the right direction. That was when was it was easy, that’s when life was hazy in a good way.

Spilled buckets of water, breaking a vase, throwing a baseball into the window by mistake, scraped knees, crayon scribbles on the wall, and bad dreams about the shadows in the closet.

Those were some things that Patton could explain and guide kids through without fearing repercussions or permanent problems if he slipped up. Those weren’t the multi-faceted issue with multiple complex points that all contradict, had no real answer, and caried heavy moral consequences that hinge on how you both handle and explain them.

But Patton could handle the little messes.

The little messes were okay.

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

Virgil had intercepted Patton just before he went to bed that night.

Patton was admittedly pretty tuckered out after such a long day of crafts, walks, games, and wrestling with the twins. It was all incredibly fun, and Patton wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it really took some energy to keep up with them all day.

He’d accidentally kept the kids up just a bit too late. Save Virgil, the kids had all gathered in the twins’ room, where Patton couldn’t help but read a book for them, making the story as animated and exaggerated as possible.

Logan somehow managed to fall asleep face down on the carpet, but the twins and Janus were more than happy to stay awake for the full chapter, commenting and giggling at Patton’s wide array of silly voices, funny faces, and sound effects. Roman especially seemed to love it, loudly shushing his brothers when he got invested in the characters as Patton read.

But eventually he glanced up at a clock and realized the poor kids really could use some sleep, so Patton decided on a stopping point, sent Janus to bed with a big hug, tucked in Roman and Remus, scooped Logan off the floor to carry him to his room, then left the peacefully dozing toddler to go say goodnight to Virgil before getting some shut eye himself.

As Patton was approaching his room, he ran into Virgil, who had left his own room to find him. He was leaning up again the wall, his ever-present phone lit up in one hand. The wall of framed family photos behind the teenager had Patton resisting a smile. The photos were adorable, all at least a bit grainy, but such fun pictures that all could have been taken just yesterday.

The yellowed hallway light was the color of childhood nostalgia. It cast golden shadows over his child’s face.

“I just, uh. I wanted to ask if you were feeling better,” Virgil said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Last week, or whatever, you said you were really tired, and I guess I just wanted to check.”

Patton smiled softly, “Aw, thanks Kiddo. I’m feeling much better actually.” he said, and he felt a sense of self reassurance with how honest he was able to be.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I am!” Patton said. “It’s been really good lately, I’ve been,” he paused, picking his words carefully, “… I’ve been happy.” he decided.

The tension that Patton hadn’t noticed in Virgil’s shoulders gently melted away. He broke into a relived smile. “I’m really glad, Dad. I’ve been worried since you mentioned the allergy medicine stuff.”

Patton’s smile tightened slightly around the far corners of his mouth. “Yeah.”

“You’ve seemed like yourself again the last few days,” Virgil shrugged. “All chipper and bouncy again. But yeah, I was pretty scared for a day or two. Thought that maybe something happened, maybe. I don’t know, I-I was just worried about you.”

“I’m so sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to worry you. Everything is okay now.” Patton promised gently.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Virgil said, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Me too.” Patton whispered, tenderly pulling his eldest son into an embrace. Virgil returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Patton’s middle and giving a tight squeeze.

“I won’t take that stuff again,” Patton said into Virgil’s hair. “I won’t end up like that anymore. That’s over now.”

Virgil nodded into Patton’s chest. “Please don’t.” he responded, voice muffled and quiet.

“I know you worried about it,” Patton said, holding Virgil tighter. “I’m sure it kept you up at night, and stuck in your head when you tried to relax, but everything is okay. We’re all going to be perfectly fine.”

After a long moment in that hug, Virgil pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Love you, Dad.” he said quietly.

“I love you too, Virgil.” Patton whispered before pulling him back once more for a quick squeeze. Virgil laughed and playfully rolled his eyes and he wriggled out of Patton’s embrace.

The kid lingered for a moment before slipping away into his room across the hall. His footsteps were as quiet and delicate as fresh fallen snow.

The sticker covered door shut with a tiny click that rang in his ears, and Patton was left alone in the dim hallway.

Patton swallowed a mix of love and guilt that was building behind his tongue. Love for his kid, who cared so deeply and unashamedly for all of them. His kid who was so at ease and so authentic, who harbored no bitterness or deep seeded pain.

But the love was soured by a horrible tangy guilt.

Allergy medication.

Years of difficult choices. Hours of arguing. Months upon months spent in isolation and resentment. His entire lifetime up until now as a function.

He was letting Virgil blame it entirely on allergy medication.

He was really going to stick with that one, wasn’t he? Would it end there? Would he just let that one little lie be the foundation for everything else? Would that eat at him forever? What was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? He doesn’t even know where on earth he is. How would the truth help?

He rubbed his eyes as he opened his bedroom door, feeling an upcoming headache creep in. He just needed to go to bed and forget about it until morning or something.

Though really, he wouldn’t do ‘something’. No, he’d just forget about it, or at least tell himself he had forgotten.

Patton bit back a groan as he shut the door behind him. It was pitch black in his room, with the curtains drawn so no moon light was present to illuminate where his furniture was.

He vaguely remembered a floor lamp beside his bed, so he stumbled around looking for it, reluctant to hurt his eyes by turning on his ceiling light. Too bright.

Naturally, he tripped over the stupid slippers that always made their way into the center of his floor no matter how many times he kicked them under his bed. It was well known that Patton rarely swore, but the things he’d audibly called those cursed slippers would make a sailor do a double take. Unfortunately, Remus would probably be proud of his rather creative language.

After what felt like far too long for such a simple task, Patton bumped into the lamp and managed to locate the switch around the back.

A pleasant sharp sound greeted his ears as his eyes were blinded by a harsh cold light. He squinted and blinked to rid his vision of the spots floating around his eyes.

“Took you long enough.” A voice nearly directly beside Patton said dryly.

Patton jolted backwards with his eyes wide, clutching his chest like he’d had a heart attack. He nearly tripped over the stupid slippers again but managed to catch himself before he took a tumble.

His visitor smiled with a smug amusement, eyes flicking over each detail.

Of course, none other than Janus, was seated crisscrossed in the middle of Patton’s bed. He was still in his pajamas from earlier, but somehow managed to carry a completely different aura than before. His spine was straight, his hair was neater, his eyes were narrowed critically. He held himself with the distain and elegance of a renowned art critic instead of a nine-year-old boy, and he didn’t have to say a word to do it.

It made Patton’s bones feel tense with a tight dread.

After the few seconds it took for Patton’s nerves to recover, he ran a shaky hand through his hair. It felt silly to be so frightened by nothing but a little blonde boy, but he really was quite shaken, and judging by the way Janus was introducing himself, Patton had a sickening feeling that this conversation would not be pleasant.

“Janus? What are you doing in here? I thought you were in bed.” he said wearily.

In response, Janus smiled thinly. “I go where you need me.” he said noncommittedly.

Patton sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it’s late, so I need you to go to bed now, Janus.” he said.

“Just like you need Virgil to trust you.” Janus shot back coolly, making absolutely no effort to get up and leave. He almost seemed to settle down even more.

“Janus, please,” Patton said in a low voice, headache beginning to throb.

The child did not respond. He just stared calculatingly.

“What do you want?” Patton caved timidly.

“I want exactly what you want.” Janus said easily, examining the edges of his nails.

Patton’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. His gaze hardened. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Really?” Janus said, very clearly holding back a smug grin. “Because I disagree. You wouldn’t have acted like that with Virgil just now if you had a different goal than me.”

“You don’t know anything about that.” Patton retorted, feeling a hot defensiveness building behind his lungs. He swallowed thickly.

“I know a lot about that, actually. I know you’re telling him what he wants to hear, that way you get what you want, which is also what I want.” Janus challenged, eyes bright with a defined taunt.

The air in Patton’s lungs felt significantly thinner than before. He bit hard at the inside of his mouth. “Janus, stop. I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to do, but I know you’re manipulating me again.”

“Me? Manipulating you?” Janus asked with false doe eyes.

“Yes!”

Janus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “So just like you just manipulated Virgil?” he said sweetly.

Patton nearly took a step back. “W-what? Janus what are you talking-”

“Oh!” Janus interrupted. “I’m so sorry, maybe I misheard you. Because I thought I heard you tell Virgil that the reason you were acting so weird was because you took a different allergy medication.”

Patton faltered as guilt stabbed him like a hot knife in the gut.

Janus fluttered his eyelashes innocently, “Or did I mishear that?”

“No. No that’s not manipulating.” Patton argued weakly, though the confliction in his voice was far too thinly veiled to hide from Janus of all people.

“I’m pretty sure it is.” Janus said with an eyeroll. “You wanted Virgil to trust you and feel safe with you, so you lied to get him to feel that way. I’m pretty sure that’s manipulating, or am I just a silly little kiddo of yours?”

“You told me to say that!” Patton panicked.

“And you immediately agreed to lie,” Janus smirked. “Which maybe could be seen as a panic response,” Janus admitted with little reluctance. “But that was when you first got here. Now do keep in mind, you ended up using that lie multiple times, even going so far as to reinforce and add to it. I may have given you the lie, but you’ve seemed more than happy to use it when things get sticky. Not very moral of you, is it?”

Patton stammered in response, “But it wasn’t like that! I-I just wanted to comfort my son!” he protested hotly.

A slow Cheshire grin stretched over Janus’ lips. “Well look at that,” he purred.

The hairs along Patton’s arms pricked. He felt something icy settle in his gut. “… what?” he dared to ask slowly.

“We now know what you want.” Janus said, cruel victory lacing his voice.

Tears threatened to breach Patton’s eyes, but bitterness kept them at bay, at least for that moment. His hands gripped and ungripped at his sides. He felt his headache intensify threefold.

“Don’t cry, Dad.” Janus soothed sarcastically. “I’m not going to ruin any of that for you. We’re one and the same.” he smiled. “Remember? I want the very thing that you want.”

Patton bit harder at the inside of his mouth until his saliva went bitter and coppery.

“It’s just easier to work with someone who has come to terms with themselves.” Janus continued, “I for one support it. You know what you want, and finally, you have the opportunity to take it. I’m not stopping you, Patton. I’m helping you.”

“Stop.” Patton whispered as he rubbed his face with his hands, as if trying to hide.

“Only if you mean stopping to smell the roses.” Janus chuckled lightly, as he finally stood up from the bed to depart.

“Goodnight, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He padded around the side of the bed and left the room, shutting the door behind him firmly.

Patton kept his head buried in his hands until the weak stream of tears had pooled out onto his hot palms. He could feel his arms shaking and his headache continue to grow more fierce with every passing second.

Finally, when he felt he could face reality again, he pried is hands from his face and looked up.

There, on his nightstand, sat a very large vase, filled abundantly with flowers. They were, in fact, roses. Spotless white roses to be precise, all completely uniform and at the perfect peak of their bloom.

Patton scrubbed his face of its tears, turned off the light, and collapsed into bed, not bothering to get under his sheets.

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

As it had been his entire time at the little home so far, Patton’s dreams were few and indecipherable. When his mind drifted off, it drifted nowhere in particular. Dreams were an inky void that revealed nothing good nor bad, they just spun and echoed rather peacefully until he woke up to face what felt like a dream in itself, in a good way at least.

Sleep had stopped being restful before he came to the suburban home. He just craved sleep constantly because sleep was a reprieve from being awake, and being awake was not a good thing, though something about falling asleep was also dreadful, because he knew that eventually he’d have to wake up at some point.

And again, being awake was not a good thing back there. Being awake meant dead silence, guilt, and the crushing burden of his present reality.

In the suburban home it was different. Sleep was nice. It was nice because he felt good afterwards, and there was something to look forward to when he woke. It felt healthy, and Patton decided that he liked feeling that way. Though he couldn’t remember when he first lost that feeling to begin with. He’s certain he had it at some point in time.

After his talk with Virgil in the hallway, and of course, his brief conversation with Janus in his room, Patton had fallen asleep quiet easily. It seemed to be a benefit of living there.

He was deeply asleep, comfortable, and blissfully unaware of the white roses at his bedside table, the curtains that swayed ever so softly with the AC, or the tiny padding footsteps going slowly down the hall.

Patton did not hear when the footsteps came to a sudden halt. He did not take note of how the sound went silent directly outside his door, lingering there for many dead seconds. He did not awake when the little brass doorknob turned, or when the door opened with the gentlest of creaks. He didn’t hear the door close once more, or when the footsteps came closer to his bed, slowly walking around to the side with the bedside table.

Though Patton did notice when a cold hand gingerly reached forward to press against the side of his neck.

He awoke with a sudden start, flinging himself backwards to the far side of his bed, head whipping wildly to catch sight of what touched him. He was standing on his knees on the bed, wide eyed.

The little shadow at his bedside also jumped back, cowering in the dark like a frightened baby bird.

“W-who’s there? What’s going on?” Patton stammered as he squinted at the figure. His heart continued to beat wildly in his chest, but the more logical part of him had already begun to calm down significantly as he suspected what had happened.

A tiny sniffle was heard as the little shadow curled into itself further. “Sorry,” came a tiny whisper as Patton’s breathed a sigh of relief.

“Logan? Kiddo? Is that you?” he called gently, easing himself back into a more comfortable sitting position.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Logan said quietly, still huddling away from the bed.

“Don’t be sorry honey,” Patton soothed, “You just startled me. C’mere.”

The little shadow that was logan hesitated, still sniffling.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Kiddo. It wasn’t your fault, it’s okay. You can come.” Patton beckoned as he moved to set his feet on the ground. “It’s okay.”

Logan was up on his feet after just a second more of deliberation. The toddler shakily jumped up onto the bed beside Patton, still sniffling and holding himself in a hug. The little guy was clearly even more frightened that Patton was and judging by his poor baby’s slumped form and exhausted words, he had an idea of what had happened.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Patton cooed, bringing an arm around Logan to hold him closer to his side. He used his freehand to part the curtain by his bed, using the little bit of moonlight to see his son.

The child leaned fully into Patton’s pajama shirt without saying anything. Patton could feel damp eyes leaking into his side and his heart winced in sympathy. He went a step further and just pulled Logan into his lap, wrapping his arms around his tiny form and letting him get comfortable. He could feel the poor guy shivering despite the summer heat.

“Bad dream.” Logan whimpered into Patton’s chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Logan.” Patton said gently, pulling him a little closer. “Bad dreams can be really scary, and you’re so brave for coming and getting me.”

Logan rubbed his nose and buried his head in Patton’s arm. “You were there. In my dream.” he said quietly.

“I was?” Patton asked as he rubbed Logan’s back gently, keeping a secure grip on the toddler.

“Yeah,” Logan sniffled again. “y-you got hurt.”

“Oh baby,” Patton rested his chin on Logan’s head of curls. “That must’ve been so hard, but I’m not hurt for real. I’m perfectly okay, everyone is fine in real life.”

“You hit your head.” Logan whispered frightenedly, doe eyes glossy with tears that he could just barely make out in the moonlight

Patton found his grip on Logan a smidge tighter than before, and not necessarily because he was aiming to comfort the child.

“You fell down,” Logan continued shakily, “And you didn’t get up. There was blood everywhere, until it was in my socks and my shoes a-and I kept falling on it when I tried to get you. It was turning my clothes red, and it wouldn’t come off! You didn’t hear me yelling, but I was yelling, and I could hear cracking sounds, over and over and it wouldn’t stop!”

It was a remarkably dark dream for a child to have, and something about it made Patton’s stomach flip with discomfort. He kept rubbing circles into Logan’s back.

“What happened next, honey?” He prompted gently.

“You got up.” Logan said through fresh tears. “You got up and started walking, a-and there-there was blood all down the back, and it was everywhere. You couldn’t hear me but you walked away, and everything was getting really dark and you were gone and- and”

Logan was beginning to get hysterical, so Patton very softly shushed him and cradled him against his chest, bouncing him slightly. He rubbed circled into the little kid’s back and let him cry it out for a few minutes.

“It’s okay, everything is okay. I hear you, buddy. You’re okay.” Patton murmured as Logan sobbed.

“Roman stopped me.” Logan whispered as soon as his tears were tame enough to speak through. He was nearly gasping from lack of air.

“He stopped you?”

“Yeah,” Logan hiccupped. “He stopped me from getting you.”

Patton frowned. “He stopped you from getting to me?” he inquired.

Logan nodded frantically. “Yeah. So I tried getting up to find Vee, but he wasn’t waking up, even when I called him really loud.”

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. But it’s only a dream, we’ve got to remember.” Patton said, still holding the child securely.

“That part was real.” Logan said quietly, eyes beginning to flutter from exhaustion.

Patton’s blood turned to ice. He froze before asking, “… which part, Logan?”

“Hmm?” The child hummed sleepily.

“Kiddo, you’ve got to tell me now, which part was real?” Patton said more firmly, trying to wake him up a little as urgency built in his throat.

“Roman and Vee.” Logan said tiredly.

“Roman stopped you? Was he in your room? O-or-”

Logan rubbed his eyes droopily. “No. I got up to get Vee, an Roman was there. He told me I couldn’t get you, but I went to Virgil when he went downstairs.”

“Then what?” Patton asked, hoping his own dread wasn’t too obvious.

“Vee stayed asleep.” Logan said, voice crumbling a bit, “he says I can come wake him up if I’m sad, but he stayed asleep, and it was too scary. Then I came and got you.”

Patton nodded numbly, not that Logan could see it. His own thoughts were racing at a thousand miles an hour, all of which were moving too fast to process. He bit at the inside of his mouth, finding blood there very quickly.

“Logan, honey, did you see Janus at all?” Patton asked softly.

The reaction was immediate. Logan stiffened and clamped his mouth shut so quickly he could’ve bitten his own tongue off. He went silent.

“It’s okay baby, did you see him?” Patton tried again, as nonthreateningly as possible.

Logan’s frail form began to shiver violently. More tears began leaking from wide eyes. The child kept his mouth clamped shut still.

“Logan-” Patton tried to console him, but the kid was frantic now.

The child yanked himself out of Patton’s grip and tumbled to the floor, breathing erratically and covering his head like he was expecting to be thrown in a boxing ring.

Patton was panicking now. “No, Logan. It’s okay, I’m not mad. It’s fine- Logan. Logan- please-” He scooped Logan off the floor to try and settle him in his lap again, but it was proving difficult.

“Don’t tell him.” Logan begged. “Please don’t tell him. Please- Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be normal. I- I won’t talk. Don’t tell him. Please don’t tell him. Daddy I’m sorry. I won’t talk. I’m sorry-” Logan was sobbing and thrashing as he begged.

All Patton could do was hold him, whisper to him, and resist crying too.

It took what felt like hours for the child to wear himself out, but eventually his breathing began to return to a normal pace. Silent tears remained fresh on both their faces as he cuddled the child close to his chest, as if he could possibly protect him.

“Don’t tell Janus.” Logan whispered through his ragged breathing.

“I promise.” Patton whispered back.

They remained in silence for a very long time, neither speaking nor attempting to. Patton was content to just remain where he was, despite the pained crick in his neck from his position. Nothing could pry him from his child.

Then he hears a floorboard creak outside his door.

Patton’s heartrate shoots up so high he gets dizzy for half a second, but he hardly has time to think before he’s acting.

He doesn’t check to see if Logan is still awake or not, he just immediately opens his covers and pushes the kid far beneath them before crawling in himself. He settles down as fast as possible, closes his eyes and forces his chest to rise and fall slowly.

Then he waits.

Nothing happens.

Not a single sound can he detect beside the roaring of his own blood in his ears.

  Nothing happens.

  Nothing happens.

  Then another creak as the door swings open.

Patton’s heart threatens to give out, but he ignores it to strain his ears further.

  Nothing happens.

  Nothing happens.

 Another creak and the door closes. Footsteps retreat back into the hallway.

Patton doesn’t dare stir for at least ten whole minutes, focusing on listening and the child pressed up against his side, who isn’t moving at all.

Ten more minutes pass before Patton very slowly sits up, and checks on Logan. He throws the covers off the kid’s head to find that Logan had own hand clamped over his mouth and tears running down his face.

Patton has so very little to offer, so he gently presses a shaky kiss to the top of Logan’s head and gathers him in his arms to just hold him for a moment. Logan doesn’t remove his hand from his mouth, even when Patton tries to nudge him.

“You’re shivering.” Patton whispered, getting no response. “I’ll get another blanket.”

There’s a basket in the far corner of his room with a variety of blankets that he could wrap the child in, so he very gently eases Logan off his lap and tiptoes across the room to rummage through his options.

It takes maybe half a minute to pull one out. His hands are shaking too, making it hard to wrangle one out.

It takes ten seconds to make it back to the bed.

Logan is gone.

Patton rips the sheets away in a panic. He drops to his knees to look underneath the bed. He runs to the connected bathroom to search for him. He turns on his lamp and spins twice before terror gets the best of him.

He sprints to his bedroom door and flings it open without a trace of hesitation.

There’s a horrible scream coming from the far end of the hall, shrill, pained, and raspy. He can’t make out exactly what voice it is, but it is most certainly a child.

There are no second thoughts to have before Patton is running towards the noise.

His vision goes stark white.

Then pitch black.

He finds carpet in his face, his body hurts.

He’s on the ground, he realizes.

Patton tries turning over but he’s met with more darkness.

Then something soft.

The world tilts and turns and there’s a screeching pain in his ears that rings and echoes before suddenly fading away.

  Patton is sitting up in bed on a sunlit summer morning.

#patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #fanfic #deceit sanders #sander sides #thomas sanders #anais writes

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Remembering Takeoff And Other Rappers Lost to Gun Violence In 2022

Takeoff, a member of the rap trio Migos, was killed Tuesday morning at a bowling alley in downtown Houston. Takeoff, who was 28, was pronounced dead on the scene. Two other victims were shot and taken to the hospital.

The news of Takeoff’s tragic death has saddened many and has been especially unsettling for the hip-hop community. His death adds another name to the growing list of rappers lost to gun violence. According to CNN, gun violence has killed at least one rapper a year since 2018.

Gun violence shouldn’t be normalized, but it can be argued that these types of occurrences have become commonplace in America. From the Biggie and Tupac era to today, it seems like gun violence is only becoming more and more prevalent in hip-hop — an industry that is predominantly Black and brown.

“Too many young men of color are killing each other,” Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner tweeted. “Resolving their disputes by pulling their guns and shooting one another regardless of fame or fortune. Crazy. And in a few second a life is gone, families and friends are left grieving. STOP!”

Takeoff was born Kirshnik Khari Ball in 1994. He, along with his uncle Quavo and cousin Offset, formed Migos in 2008. The group gained notoriety with their first hit, “Versace,” in 2013 and grew more popular in 2016 when their song “Bad and Boujee” reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 charts.

In addition to his work with the Migos, Takeoff released a solo album in 2018, The Last Rocket, which hit number four on the U.S. charts. Takeoff and Quavo had recently announced they’d be performing under the moniker “Unc & Phew,” and had just released an album titled, Only Built for Infinity Links. 

Takeoff joins a grave list of hip-hop stars killed by gunfire. Here are seven other well-known/rising rappers killed by gun violence in 2022:

Note: This is not an exhaustive list. Some other rappers shot and killed in 2022 not listed below include: Young Slo-Be (Disean Victor), Earl Swavey, Rollie Bands (Ari Williams), FBG Cash (Tristian Hamilton), Archie Eversole (Arthur Lee “Archie” Eversole), Lil Devin (Devin Swain), Wavy Navy Pooh (Shandler Beaubien), and Goonew (Markelle Morrow)

[dankusner]

SXSW PROTESTS AND MUSIC

Amid controversy over military ties, bands delight crowds

South by Southwest concluded one of its most divisive music festivals in 37 years Saturday.

Eighty bands pulled out over the festival’s ties to the U.S. and Israeli militaries.

Texas Gov. Greg Abbott tweeted disparagingly about the artists who did so, and SXSW chimed in to disagree with him via social media.

Musicians pushed back not just on who was underwriting the conference or being platformed at it, but the core ethos that has long driven the scene: Playing for exposure is worth it.

Saturday night at the Intercontinental Hotel, Austin band Fuvk paused its set to read a statement of protest, calling SXSW’s response to criticism about where its funding comes from “pathetic and gutless.”

The statement said it felt “perverse” to perform and said it would

“This decision is way overdue, but it feels like the only right thing to do at this point.”

Beharie

Norwegian singer who backed out of a SXSW showcase over the conference’s U.S. Army sponsorship and its platforming of Raytheon, which supplies weapons to Israel probably be the band’s last SXSW gig.

Toronto’s Sam Tudor joked onstage about how his guitarist had an Uber booked for 8:35 p.m. so she might have to leave midperformance.

She had been filling in for other Canadian acts all week.

“Too bad she’s not being paid by the show,” he said.

Then he deadpanned: “Is anyone in the audience a tech billionaire? We’re not allowed to make money in America, as per our visa.”

Tudor played the Driskill gig at the last minute when Norway’s Beharie took to Instagram hours earlier to say he would back out of the showcase over SXSW’s U.S. Army sponsorship and the conference’s platforming of Raytheon, which supplies weapons to Israel.

“This decision is way overdue, but it feels like the only right thing to do at this point,” Beharie wrote.

When asked for a comment Sunday, event organizers shared the same statement they used to rebut Abbott on Tuesday.

The statement defends the artists’ rights to free speech and explains that the defense industry is a leader of tech discovery.

“The Army’s sponsorship is part of our commitment to bring forward ideas that shape our world,” the statement said. It also asserted the festival’s continued commitment to “human rights for all.”

“The situation in the Middle East is tragic, and it illuminates the heightened importance of standing together against injustice,” it said.

Behari did play later at an unofficial gig at the Shiner Saloon.

And it was magnificent and moving soul music.

It was an existential SXSW politically, but the musicians who chose to play gave area patrons a reliable overload of astonishing work.

Electronic pop duo ÄTNA were so good the German government flew them over as cultural ambassadors.

Heffner restored my faith in male-fronted, conventional rock music with, oddly enough, an amazing Spanish- language cover of Los Angeles Negros.

The Flamingo Cantina packed in tightly for an Afrobeats showcase with some of the most exciting hip-hop voices from West Africa.

R& B, jazz and reggaeton music shined on every street corner.

The Black Keys showed up to celebrate 70-year-old blues journeyman Robert Finley.

Peso Pluma, the most-streamed YouTube artist of 2023, performed for free.

LAIR, an Indonesian rock band that makes stringed instruments out of clay, cracked one on a flight to the U.S. from Jakarta and made a brand-new one here.

The punk spirit persisted amid controversy.

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The Alternative on Bombshell Radio Feb 6 2024

Tuesdays 11am -1pm EST bombshellradio.com The Alternative with Kevin Humphreys • February 6 2024+ On the first edition of The Alternative for the month of February, Kevin Humphreys brings you 2 hours of eclectic music selections new and old featuring Talking Heads, Linn Koch-Emmery, DD Walker, Bryde, JJ Shiplett, Joy Division, Gary Numan, All Saints, Natalie Shay, ROSIE, Del Water Gap, Georgia Reed, Damian Rice, The Tragically Hip, Kings Elliot and many many more. Read the full article