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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Welcome To The Pack Not Like I Needed That Bed

Summary- 10k. Alpha!Steve x You. You go to Steve needing him in just about every sense of the word. You Heat fully hits and there is no controlling it. Bucky and Natasha find out more of Pierces doings. Warnings- Okay guys, shouldn't have to tell you, but Smut. Readers in Heat, really what else can you expect from her and the Alpha? Female Receiving Oral. Two Prompts added for @lielullabye Snow's Five Hundred Challenge- 1. “Toto I got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” 2. There's only one bed- in a cabin.

A/N- Thank You all for the support in this Fic. It's very near and dear to my heart, and just to see the out pour of love for the wolves (im sorry, this chapter doesn't have much of the actual wolves) really makes me all soft. Anyone that notices similarities with @imanuglywombat's series Hungry Like The Wolf, it is similar. We talked about it. :) You all should go check out Laura's piece, it is amazing! Moodboard made by @omega-nicole. Thanks Babes for the lovely Artwork. Thank you for reading everyone and much love from all the wolves. 🐺❤ Happy Howlings!

Chapter Three / Pack Master list

Steve closed the door behind You when you came in, your heavy soft scent washing over him, reminding him of the day you arrived. The day you sat on his bed, and he could only imagine what had happened from there to set off your arousal. The one that had sent him straight into a ice shower raging hard, fuck you smelled so good. This had a touch of that, and it made his cock stir. He could only hope that his sweatpants he yanked on when you first knocked could hide it for now. Turning towards you, you were seated on a chair in the far corner of the room, much like how you sit on the alpine chair out on the deck, having folded up your legs, peeking at him as if you were upset you were disturbing him.

Steve walked, a bit stiffer then usual, and went to sit on the end corner of the bed, facing You. “Y/N, Little One, why are you afraid? I can smell it.”

You fidgeted, picking at your fingers, and he reached over to capture your hands in his before you could do anymore. Apologetic you looked at him, and wrinkled your nose instead. Your emotions so easily played across your face in the dark, Steve suspected you felt less vulnerable in the night, and for that he was grateful. It gave him a better reading on what was going on in your mind, and he issued a reassuring squeeze of his hands on yours.

I got you Little One, We will keep you safe.

His wolf rumbled in agreement <Always, she's ours.> Steve could just feel him aching to wrap around you, pull you in close to tease that look off your face, feel your body press into his with need, just as he was feeling now. You would be safe in the circle of his arms.

You immediately felt your Wolf and you calm down when he touched you, his grasp bringing you back to him, and you uncurled, letting your legs stretch and tiptoes brush into the rug beneath the chair. Opening up to him, in a way it made you proud to see his features softening cause you trusted him. “Nothing more than nightmares, but sleeping alone, well it's not something I've done often. Just having someone nearby...” your eyes lifted to meet his, really hoping he didn't misunderstand what you were saying. Steve just studied you a moment, and moved to a stand, his hand outstretched.

“Come on, let your Alpha take care of you. You have nothing to fear.” He smiled, although his body raged at him to take you, to throw you down and rut into you, cover your body with loving bites, and fill your womb with him so you belonged to him forever. All these desires he was able to control, for now. When you rewarded him with a soft look of relief, and slid your hand into his, pulling you to a stand, the Wolf in him crooned softly with affection seeing you take his hand willingly, and lead you to the bed. You crawled up on it, of course giving Steve a perfect view of the heart shape of your ass in sleep shorts swaying back and forth, that did nothing to help his current issue. Slamming him with tented pants, and deep rumbles from his Wolf, he slid in right behind you.

“Can I touch you Little One?” Steve did his best to keep his voice normal, calm. Not the raging fire to claim you he felt inside of you. When you looked over your shoulder, and scooted back to press against his chest, body fit against his just as his Wolf knew you were meant to. Soft against the hardness of the Alpha, his hand sliding over your waist to press his palm under your shirt against your stomach, and there was a visible sigh from you. For now that made his Wolf content, the beast settling back down, laying his head on his forepaws, bright yellowed eyes shimmering in the darkness of Steves mind.

You could feel Steve settling behind you, when you gave the invitation for his hand to encircle you, you relaxed, all that tension caused earlier in your room seeped away. Your Little Wolf started grooming to calm herself, long licks along her forepaw, and knowing she was no longer crying in your mind made you breath out in relief. Steve was warm against you, his fingers brushing against you with a gentleness you've never experienced in another. You wondered if he could feel the fire licking along your nerves just below your skin. The way his heavy scent of the pines he ran through, and metal that you associated with your Alpha stirred your core. Of course he can, you could feel him firm behind you, nudges against your lower back, this wasn't easier on him then it was on you, and yet... this is exactly what you craved, sinking in closer and letting yourself to slip away in his hold.

It was the sweetest torture for both You and Steve.

Bleary eyed Bucky woke with a moan, rolling to his side and his hand went to his head to press against the fucking temple where he felt sharp pain. Whoever fucking clocked him, got him good. Cursing under his breath as he sat up and looked around, trying to get a bearing of where he was. Looked like a normal room, in a normal house, one small lamp was on nearby. There was a weight around his neck, and his hand dropped to a collar, it was cold to his fingertips with carvings all around it, it left a burnt singe sensation in his nose When he dipped inside his mind, the White Wolf was subdued, chains interlacing around him, tight around his throat that it bit through this thick fur into the skin, muzzled, and held down, the White Wolf couldn't move an inch.

So they were using fucking magic on these wolves, great. Bucky thought as the White Wolf growled, trying to move, which resulted in the chains just tightening more. “Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Bucky snarked as he tried to feel for a clasp on the physical collar around his neck, and it was no use, it was as smooth around as it was heavy on his neck.

“No Soldier your not in Kansas.” A voice said behind Bucky, and a older man came in, smaller in stature then the two that followed him in, but Alpha... or Alpha like, Bucky couldn't see the physical demeanor that Alphas usually had in this man. But his body language said it, and the way the two larger men were sure to stay back behind him, bringing up behind him like a couple body guards. This must be the wolf Nat had to get past in order to be on the pack territory. “But you are on my territorty. I'm the Alpha of these lands, and I want to know why the “famous” White Wolf was scoping us out. I know your not looking to join.” Pierce snarled at these last words as he sat down, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Especially not after you killed one of my Trackers.”

“Oh the Tracker on OUR territory? I stayed in No Mans territory, he didnt. Not only did he cross our lines, he entered our Alphas house.”

Pierce cut off the tip of his cigar and lit it, looking over at Bucky after a few inhales. “Your Alpha took something that didn't belong to him. I intend to retrieve her, with interest of course. If I find out he bit her, and she took the fucking bite, I’m going to skin her alive.” He waved a hand over his shoulder and stretched out on the wall were skins Bucky didn't notice before. Various colors and species of shifter. The White Wolf tried fighting his binds all over again, his fur bristling down his back, and roars bursting from him in a rage. Buckys’ face changed to one of horror.

“Thats fucking sick man...”

Pierce gave a wicked grin, blowing cigar smoke in Buckys face as he came closer, the chain holding Bucky tightened and wrapped around his torso quickly by the other men, holding him still. “Is it? They are all animals who couldn't listen to the Alpha, and I can't make a profit, they are added to my collection. Your a handsome fellow, all white, I’ve seen pictures of you. You would make a nice addition. Yet... your wanted by Hydra, and since they have been bugging me for an Alpha Male to do ritual magic, I can’t. That pretty Red Wolf though, Natalie I think she had said. She will look good on my wall.”

This Bucky tried fighting back, break the bonds on the collar, it only resulted in him getting several kicks to the ribs and back. Pierce watched with satisfaction, motioning to Bucky who was once again subdued in pain. “Ship him out to Hydra in a few days, make sure you received the payment at the exchange. And bring my fucking collar back. They can put there own on him.” Bucky got hauled up and dragged away, Pierce going over to the desk, and dialing the phone. “Ahhh yes, the new wolf. Get her situated will you please. Put her in a cell till I can speak with her. ” Settling back in his chair, he went over the stuff they found on Bucky. Particularly his phone. Once he got into it, with a little help from stolen Stark Tech, he was able to go through all his messages, the ones of most interest, Alpha Steve fucking Rogers. Oh he was going to kill that fucker for what he's taken. There also seemed to be some interesting ones from a human, Pierce was sure to jot that info down as well with a smirk.

The next morning Steve woke up slowly, breathing in deeply against the back of your neck and a flex of his arm around you pulled you in tighter against him. Fuck this felt good, his mind was groggy and he grinned against your neck, nuzzling the back of it when he felt his erection press tightly against your back side. Clearly he wasn't thinking straight at the intimate wake up, and his Wolf wasn't going to remind him that Steve was dead set on not getting romantically involved. Steve’s hand traveled up to cup one of your breasts, softly squeezing in his palm, the nipple tight to push for an escape between his fingers. Oh Fuck! His mind cleared and he immediately pulled away from your sleeping form, his whole body throbbing now.

Absolutely fucking not. I'm not taking a sleeping woman as a partner.

<You really think she was sleeping? She felt you, and wanted it. Her arousal spiked as soon as you started to touch her.> Yes Steve had noticed, he just chose to ignore it. But it was enough to have him raging hard. <You humans make everything so fucking difficult.> The Wolf started to push for more control now.

Steve was quick to rush into his bathroom, starting the water to the coldest setting, he didn't even bother looking at himself in the mirror, he knew. The Wolf was right there, ready to take over if Steve gave an ounce of control. Turn animalistic and fuck you right into the mattress until satisfied you belonged to them. Shucking his pants off, he got into the shower and gripped his raging cock, abusing himself to hurry up and cum. His jaw tense to stay as quiet as he could to not disturb you, he came once heavily, making his legs shake at the effort. But it wasn't enough and he sunk to his knees, still one handed and fast, his balls tightening and more thick ropes of cum covered his shower wall, tipping his head back into the freezing cold stream of water.

<This isn't going to solve her problem.> The Large Silver Wolf stretched and sat with his tail wrapping around his paws.

What problem?

When did the fucking wolf get so insightful Steve sighed to himself as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off, not sure what he was going to find in his room.

Trying to breathe through his mouth, Steve could taste your arousal heat as well, making his mouth water and a heavy groan rip through his body, feeling just as he done before the shower. Fucking hell... Pushing open the door with a towel wrapped around his lean hips, his eyes widened to find the bed empty.

You stumbled back into the bedroom, early dawn lighting the room with a brilliance of light and you just shaded your eyes, your reasoning at leaving Steves bed was that you overstepped your boundaries when you found yourself all alone. Plus a deep seated lust started, slicking between your thighs, and you simply couldn't control it. None of it, the ache, the need, how wet your cunt was. How sensitive your skin was and you started to pull off the clothes, trying to get away from the way it was teasing your skin, if only if was calloused fingertips and not fucking cotton. Your body was so sensitive, aching, fucking needing that even the brush of clothing against you was maddening. Your tank to was dropped to the floor and your shorts next, your skin shivered, and was covered in Goosebumps as you curled in on yourself. Your slick already coated your thighs from earlier, and you resisted the urge to touch yourself.

Why is it so bad? It's never been like this before.

The Little Wolf whined, her ears flat as she snapped at nothing in aggitation and ache.

<Why do you think? Your in heat with your Mate, it's going to be stronger then usual. Your body is made for him.> The Little Wolf snarled out with a snap of her jaws. <You two are to stubborn and this is what happens. We're all miserable.>

Another wave made you arch, and bite into the pillows your head were resting on, growling out and crying as the lust filled pain that was shockwaves through your body. Withering against the mattress in an attempt to escape what was unescapable. You never heard or noticed Steve stumbling into your doorway, his hair still wet from his shower as he fisted a hand through it, seeing You twisted up in the sheets. “Y/N!” He growled to get your attention, but your face was buried into the pillows, crying into the feathers that muffled your noises. His gaze flowed down your front, and every muscle was taunt, tense, your thighs clasped together in a locked grip, but even he could see, and smell how hot and slick you were.

<Fuck it Steve, we can't leave her like this.> The Wolf snapped, and it finally broke the man, he couldn’t, wouldn't leave you withering like this burning up. Striding over, he let the towel fall from his body, lithe, muscles rippling at the sight of you withering naked on the guest bed, the sight making his cock twitch, starting the throb into a hard erection. His hands grasped your shoulders to straighten you out, leaving you tear streaked looking up at Steve, panting slightly. “Please Steve, it's never been like this before...” Your eyes are flaring yellow at him, and you reached up to grasp his biceps, arching again with a roll as he hovered over you, seeking contact.

Steve had to get you to calm down, grasping the back of your neck, and his voice took a deeper roll, commanding you to snap back to him. “Y/N, Look at your Alpha.” It didn't pass his notice that you never hesitated this time, your eyes snapping to meet his, your fingers bunch into the muscle of his arms. Steve dropped his nose to slide along your face, huffing deeply as he dragged in your scent, and you went still for him to do so, wanting nothing more then to please your Alpha. Up one side, into your hair, the act made you calm right down, just the occassional shudder rolling through now, soft whimpers and tilting your face to run your nose along his neck, inhaling his scent when he was angled just right and flicking your tongue to take a lap of his skin. Pulling back to look down at you, your eyes still had a subdued yellow look, but calmer, not that wild out of control look.

Rumbling softly in praise, he loosened his hold on you, letting your head ease back down to the pillow. “Easy Little One, It will be okay, I got you.” You nod up at him and he lowers his head to lap his tongue over your lips, and slip between them, stroking his tongue against yours enticing you to meet him, lips pressing and sliding along yours until Steve pulled back to look down at you, moving back enough to admire the rest of you. Fuck you really were beautiful, and in your Heat your whole body responded to the smallest things. Wherever his eyes flowed to, your body would arch for him, rolling. An offering all for him, just the cooler air of him moving back from you was making your nipples pebble, tighten to hard peaks,. Mouthfuls Steve wanted to draw in and suck on them, leave his marks on them, only his pups would would suckle from you. He inhaled sharply to get control of himself again, lifting his eyes back to yours.<Why are you stopping?> His Wolf growled and Steve rested his hand against your hip, snapping at his Wolf to have some patience.

“Better?” He asked as you blinked up at him, the yellow ebbing from your eyes and you nodded. Your hands loosened from his biceps, now just resting there. Steves head dropped to lap lightly against your neck, placing softer bites to keep you calmer, reminders that your Alpha was there to take care of you.

<Not just your Alpha Y/N, your Mate.> Your Little Wolf reminded you softly.

That's why it's so much more intense? It's not just because Im with the Packs Alpha?

Your hands smoothed along his shoulders and down his back, and you hummed softly with content rocking your hips back and forth “Its easier.” You whimper and Steve continues down your collarbone and nipping the tops of your breasts, glancing up. “But?” and you do your best to pay attention, but the needing ache bordering on pain started to build again, rolling your body underneath him, tipping your head back and crying out. “I still need you Steve.” And your fingers tightened in his back, digging into the muscles to hold onto him.

Steve let his hand grasp your hips and slip you further underneath, his knee parting your thigh and rub us against your hot wet core, grinding against you till it registered and you started to rub your slick on him, growling so soft with pleasure at the hardness, the way Steves wet mouth pulled a nipple in, pulling, tugging, slight pinches when his rolls your nipple between his teeth about to release, just to suck back in, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot that left you moaning and withering underneath him. Flushing bites, that would bruise, moved to the other breast, his hand palming and twisting the peak to keep you right up there.

And Oh it felt so good. You arched right into his touches like they were all you needed, and your legs parted further as he made his way down, one hand still covering a breast, kneeding and palming you, Steve lapped his way down your body, he couldn't get enough of your taste, the way you sounded all urgent for him. Using his shoulders to spread your thighs for him, he couldn't help but bury his nose against your cunt and fill all his senses with such a gift. You were so slick with need, an aching need, that the moment his tongue lapped through your cunt, you cried out his name and arched, your hands fisting into his hair to hold on. “Fuck Steve!”

His large hands clasped around your thighs and tilted you up, the Alpha lapping deeply through the folds, growling in a pleasure that you felt rolling through your core, his tongue filled your entrance, and you clenched around him with a urgent need. But that didn't slow him down, every lick, suck and pull, his hands kneeding into your thighs, till he let his fingers get greedily swallowed into your channel, lifting his head to watch you as he fingers pumped you to stretch around him. “Just like that Little One, cum for me, let me clean you up before I fuck you.” Lips teasing your clit, you bucked your hips into his face, the urgent beard scratches for him to gather all he could from your weeping hole on his tongue was enough to make your want to snap. Coming undone, he was sure to wrap his arms around you when your thighs snapped around his head and you arched your upper body, but Steve wasn't letting you go anywhere, blue eyes lifting to see you sink back down, panting with a racing heart. “So beautiful, fuck every inch of you is just perfect.”

Arching to kneel wiping his mouth and chin off best he could, he watched you post orgasm, flushed and heaving chest as you tried to drag in enough air, he fell over you, holding himself up by his hands on either side of your head to kiss you deeply, this time your tongue lapped at him, moaning at the combined tastes of your Alpha and You. When he pulled away, you almost reached to bring him back, but his hands moved on your hips, and he flipped you to your knees, arching your ass into the air. He paused a moment to see pink marks all over your back, breathing in sharply. What the hell happened to you, Little One?

<Are those cuts or bites?> The Wolf alarmed, pacing back and forth with anxiety. Steve pushed him back further in his mind as he turned his attention back to you. You had dipped your back further, and presented yourself to him. Shivering under his hands, and Steve was again struck with how trusting you were of him to take care of you, how fucking breathtaking you were submitting to him. You pulled a pillow in close and went to your elbows. Biting your lip with nerves, and looking over your shoulder at Steve kneeling behind you, rubbing his hands up and down your sides as he kissed down your spine to the base of your lower back. He didn't seem effected by the bites, or notice them.

“Steve?” Your voice was urgent, making him lift his head from where he was lavishing nips to the dimples in your lower back, your ass pressing into his groin, making him want to sink into you, know just how good you would feel tight around his cock as you had been around his tongue and fingers. “Yes Little One?” He rumbled as he lifted his head and leaned forward, kissing on your shoulder, his hand smoothing to settle on your stomach, fingers splayed as if saying 'All Mine'. “You can't bite me, Please... please dont.” His eyes lifted, he had seen all the scars on your back, suspected what they were, but his focus was distracted, your arousal was so enticing, calling him to fill you, love you. “I won't bite you unless we're both ready.” You let your forehead lean against his, and he let his nose nudge against yours before pulling back behind you.

You were stretched before him, just waiting for him, and Steve gripped the base of his cock, letting the thick head slide between your sick folds, watching you tense and relax, he was thick, heavy and throbbing in his hand, he really couldn't remember the last time anyone turned him on this much, and when he started to press into you, your heavy moan slightly muffled in the pillow while your channel clutched around his sliding cock. It was like you were made for him, the way you stretched for him, pressing back to meet him. Hands folding around your hips, fingers digging in as he thrusted his cock in rest of the way to seat deeply inside of your fluttering channel, you twisted your hands into his bedding. “Fuck you feel see good gripping on me Pretty Girl.” He groaned out after a few moments,

With a pull back of his hips, he didn't start anything fast, letting you get accustomed, ready. He shouldn't have though, you were more then ready for him, and you craved that hard pounding fullness. “Harder Steve, Im yours... make me yours.” You pleaded, and Steve hearing you started to move you over his cock, bring you back harder and faster on his thrusting cock. His thighs smacking into your ass, fingers digging into the soft supple skin to the bone, You appreciated every bruising second of it. You cried, sobbed into the pillow, begging for it.

Steve fell over your back, wrapping and arm around your chest and pulling back till you were sitting against his chest, still rolling your hips just as urgently as well as him pounding into you. He dropped laps to your neck, kisses that were harsh and urgent, hand went from palming your breast to grasping around your neck and under your jaw, holding you in place just how he wanted, tilting your head slightly so he could see your face, the drop of the 'O' of your mouth, the way you “Uh yes Steve, uh uh uh” moans that were so fucking needy and perfect, he couldn't help but want to sink his teeth into a growling bite. He settled for pressing his lips against your racing pulse, inhaling against your hot skin smelling of sex and him, growling deeply.

You reached the grab his forearm that was pressing against your chest in his hold, leveraging yourself to pound your aching throbbing cunt harder on his cock, but it was spiraled fast, coils in your stomach threatening to snap and release, you barely registered him growling words in your ear, whatever they were, you just nodded to them, and then snapped a final time down into his lap. Tipping back into his chest, and your head on his shoulder, feeling your body shoot off the best orgasm, it clouded your mind, getting lost into it. Steve kept a tight hold, still pounding out his own following orgasm, that when he did fall over that edge, leaving hot streams of cum filling you, his thrusts trying to bury himself into the womb, you just couldn't anymore, couldn't stay up. You both crashed heavily into the bed.

So heavy, that the box spring underneath collapsed beneath the two of you, sending the mattress busted onto the floor, Steve pinning you between the broken bed and himself, his knot so fucking thick, you thought you were going to split, but you revealed at the feeling of being so full of him. His panting against your neck changed to a warning growl against your ear. “Don’t Move Y/N.” You shook your head, and twisted it to the side, the two of you laying there, Steve pressed open kisses to your neck and shoulder, mummering against the skin. “So fucking good Little One, I promise to clean you up afterwards and take you to bed.”

You chuckled softly, wanting to stretch, reveal in the orgasm, but Steves cock was still buried deep, throbbing. You knew that it made his orgasm longer, the knotting. And when you flexed slightly, he growled again at you, biting the curve between shoulder and neck, holding you still once more. Nothing hard enough to break skin, but enough for him to ride out the sensation and make you behave. Finally it started to go back to normal. With a groan, Steve pulled away and you rolled to your back, finally stretching out. He looked down at you with a chuckle, and leaned down enough to slide arms underneath you and bridal style, picked you up. Your arm locked around his neck for support and looked down at the bed, turning red.

“Uhh, I’m sorry we broke your bed Steve.” You apologized, looking nervously at him. Steve as well looked at the bed, and shrugged his shoulders before turning away, heading to his bedroom. “Dont worry about it, it was useless in that room anyways. Now I have an excuse to get rid of it.” He said as if it was no big deal, which it wasn’t. He only had that room set up per his ex's request. Where one of them would on occasion sleep when it got really bad between them. He always hated having that room there, now You gave him the perfect opportunity to change it. Careful as he lowered you to the bed you had left earlier, he couldn't help but think to himself You look better in here...

<Exactly where she is meant to be.> The Silver Wolf yawned, one of those wide jaw, tongue curling yawns, that showed how content he was.

Already you were getting sleepy on Steve, he could see it. As quickly as he could, he got a warm wet cloth and eased if between your thighs, over the lower part of your stomach, cleaning himself as well, he tossed the cloth and eased onto the bed, stretching out beside you. As you curled in closer, he let his hand rest on your hip, waiting for you to fall asleep. He wanted to get a closer look at those old scars on your back. Steve was rewarded a couple hours later, when you shifted from your back to your stomach. Asleep himself, the Wolf growled to get his attention, making him stir, his arm loped loosely around your hip when the pacing Wolf woke hip up more, finally coming into a closed eye’d and aware.

You were stretched out on your stomach, Steve could hear your soft breathing signaling you were asleep, and he breathed in deeply, the smell of you two and sex a heavy welcome one, settling warmth and satisfaction to rest in his mind. Both him and the Wolf were content having there mate in the bed, no longer aching in need, when the urge came again, he would be ready. Steve moved away from you a bit to sit up, able now to get a proper look that he wasn't completely focused on one thing. His eyes widened and a snap of his teeth were the best he could do to control the rage that rattled through him.

They are fucking bite marks.... all of them. Steve growled sharply in anger and disbelief as his fingers traced over one that was particularly large and deep. The pink skin of the scar slightly raised and shiny. His palm smoothed along your back, his brow pulling together further to wrinkle at all the marks they had inflicted on you. All the times another Wolf tried to subdued and claim you as their own. No wolf willingly let's themselves get bitten that many times, go through the attempted bonding. No wonder you told him not to bite you, even through your Heat, when you would crave it the most. Steve’s eyes roamed down your back and they stopped just in your lower back area. The rage that rolled through him made him stiffen and clench his jaw from saying anything out loud. All of them will pay for this, starting with Pierce. It was hard to reign in his anger, making his throat close and his chest burn at the sight. He wanted blood, for you and who knows how many others had this been done to.

<We will kill him for doing this to her, and all the wolves that left her marked like this.> The Silver Wolf paced back and forth, ready for action, his fur raised along his spine in his anger, muzzle rolled up to show bared fangs just waiting to crush a windpipe, shake his victim till his neck snapped. Any that bit his mate, he wanted to shred them till there was nothing left to piece back together.

When Bucky and Natasha return with the intel, we will certainly be doing something. Council can go fuck themselves, waiting this long to bring Pierce under control.

The Wolf stopped pacing enough to study his mate laying there to make sure you were still at peace. <Will she be able to ever accept our Bite?>

If she doesn't that changes nothing. This is her home, bite or no bite. Besides our scents all over her, no one will doubt who she is with as long as that is what Y/N WANTS. Steve reminded his Wolf firmly.

You never know, things can change when were not all caught up in the moment.

Easier said then done, Steve thought as he let his hand slide along the curve of your side to where your hips flared out, and sure enough light bruises in the shape of his fingers colored your shin. He knew he should be sorry he left them from where he took you from behind, but he wasn’t. He loved seeing his mark on you somewhere, even one that would fade in time. It made the others seem insignificant. they had no true value, memories of a time that you were no longer subjected to. He had a new purpose, to change every scar left into a new memory, one that wouldn’t remind you of Pierce but of him. If you let him, of course.

Steve knew one thing for sure, Pierce wouldn't ever lay a hand on you again. You stirred under his palm, he could feel you draw in a deep breath of air and release under his touch, turning more into him when you realized he was there, moving from the pillows to lay your head on his sheet covered lap, still half asleep. Steve bit back a smile, suspecting you were still out of it, and this was your Little Wolf he was seeing more of. “Y/n, welcome back Little One.” His hand moved from your back to brush back your hair, see your face better. Your eyes were still firmly closed, and you twisted your face into his knee, rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with a groan. Steve still ran his fingers through your hair, and when your eyes spring open, you twist to lay on your back, looking up at him.

“You saw them, didn't you? “ you asked with a bit of hesitation, trying to gauge what he was thinking.

Steve’s head tilted a bit while his fingers were gentle through your hair, and down the back of your neck, giving a gentle brush of fingertips along your neck, as if memorizing the shape of your body. “I did Little One, because of Pierce?” His question was gentle, but it still made your chest tighten, and your Little Wolf crooned softly to comfort your pain.

“They are from all the times he tried to sell me. The seller, would try to initiate the bite, but I just couldn't do it back. At first it was fear, I was pretty young when it started, my first heat at 18, as it went on and he couldn't match me in the pack, that's when he decided to sell me.” You shifted to sit up, reaching for more of the sheet and covering yourself. “It just felt wrong, the others told me to just submit to one, that the bond can be broken later. If my new home didn't work out, I might be able to get away. I thought about it... Just let it happen, and hope it would be better. But I was to much of a coward to take that chance. Better the evil you know and all that.”

Both man and the beast snapped at attention to that, Steve leaned forward and caught your chin in his thumb and forefinger, his eyes seeking to connect to yours when he tipped your face up to look at him. “You are no fucking coward Y/N, what he put you and the others through is enough to end him. This isn't supposed to be a sick deprived thing, this is supposed to be something you carry with you forever.” His forehead leaned against yours, and he inhaled you deeply, drawing in your scent, and your eyes closed in return, doing the same. Once Steve pulled back, he let his hold drop, and was rewarded with a small smile. It was enough to make his Wolf howl in the small victory.

“How about breakfast out on the deck, and we can go say goodbye to Tony and Pepper before they head out?” Steve suggested, wanting to end this on a good note, and when he held his hand out in a offering, you seemed to study him and then his open hand, when you unfolded yourself, and placed your hand in his, once more showing a bit of trust and allowing your Alpha to take care of you.

Pepper packed the overnight bag they used while Tony paced back and forth on the phone. The clipped tone of his voice, and his fast paced stride as he would his way around the cabin Steve offered them, showed his agitation, it made Pepper herself start to get a bit aggravated. She understood The Council, but they set her mate off more then she was okay with. “Steve has a couple of his wolves already assessing the situation. Well what did you expect, he had a victim of Pierces right on his doorstep, Not to mention they came on his territory and into his own home. You can't expect him to just 'sit back and wait.” Pepper zipped the bag and brought it by the door, moving over to Tony and she cut him off from his pacing, her hands sliding up his chest and around the back of his neck. His eyes flickered to her even though he continued speaking. “Yea, I hear you, fine. If that's what you think is best... Oh, uh huh... I'm up in the middle of--” He clicked the phone off and Pepper took it off him, tossing it aside.

“Line went dead, real shitty reception up here.” Tony smirked and Pepper laughed, backing him up to the bed, and making him sit for a moment, her fingers brushing through his hair. “I take it Ross isn't at all happy with what you've told him?” she looked down at him, taking in the bit of stress lines furrowed in his brow. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her hips and shook his head. “No, He doesn’t want Rogers taking off after that pack on his own, no “rogue packs" being viglantes. Unfortunately this will also speed up those Accords the Council has been pushing for.” Pepper dropped her head to kiss his forehead and pulled away, bringing him to a stand. “Your doing your best trying to keep the peace Tony, no one can ask for more.” Tony quirked a smile at his mate, and grabbed there bag, looking around the room. “Ya know, Rogers doesn't have a bad set up here.”

“Mmhhh, and especially now that he has a mate, he's going to root right down.” Pepper added, knowing that Steve’s pack was one they were worried about once the Accords were dropped by the council. Tonys grinned at Peppers words, drawing her in close. “You really think that woman is his partner?” Pepper nodded and went to open the door, holding Tonys hand. “Didnt you see them last night, even when they weren't together, couldn't stop staring at one another, plus his scent is all over her. It's just a matter of time before it happens.”

Tony snorted as they headed towards the car to ditch the bag before going to say goodbye. “I don't know how I feel about you sniffing other wolves.” He tossed the bag in the back and raised his hand in greeting to Steve and You. Pepper slid up against his side, nipping his neck and whispering “You smell much better, does that make it okay?” He didn't have time to answer when Steve and You came up on them, it didn't pass Tony or Peppers notice that you two hovered close to one another, not quite touching, but close. Plus it was hard to miss your Heat, although it wasn't a arousing scent for either of them, just feminine, and soft.

“Rogers, as always a pleasure. Thank you for the lovely accommodations, I was telling Pepper that we should get a similar set up. Maybe on the other side of your lake here.” Tony took a glance over his sunglasses at the lake as if assessing it, and Steve probably turned three shades of white at the idea. “Actually that's Pack Land Tony, I was sure to put it right in the middle of our territory when I expanded.” Pepper rolled her eyes and patted Steves arm. “Kidding Steve, he's only kidding. You know you couldn't get Tony to leave New York.”

“Well maybe if you wanted to live the Malibu life I would Pep. Y/N, dear, Im glad your safe here, and of course if you happen to need anything from us, don't hesitate to call.” Tony wrapped You up in a surprise hug that elicited a growl from Steve and a squeak from you.

<Whats he doing touching our Mate?> The Wolf snapped at the air, ready to go after Tony.

Stop, he's just messing with us. She's fine, see. You embraced him back once you weren't shocked anymore and nodded, thanking him for the offer.

Pepper grabbed Tonys arm and dragged him to the car before he actually set Steve off, an apologetic look over her shoulder. “Steve, your order, will be in next week. Till next time.” She shoved Tony in the car, and Steve instinctly moved closer to you, and you to him, the two of you waving the couple away. Finally after a few moments, you simply remark. “Well they were nice... “ Steve snorts and gives a sideways glance. “Tonys a pain, Pepper is a saint for putting up with him.” Pulling out his phone, he took a look at the time. “I got to get up to the crew, we've already taken a day off.” You frown a bit, and look down. The only reason they missed a day was because the Trackers broke into Steves cabin. Because of you.

Steve caught sight of your frown, the way you pulled back, and immediately slid his fingers along your jawline, tilting your face back up, shaking his head. “Wasnt your fault Little One, I normally shut down the day after our run.” The relief that flooded your eyes made Steve soften, and he couldn't help but place a soft innocent kiss on your lips, rewarded with a flush of pink. His wolf was smug watching the tender moment between you two, but real life called Steve away when his phone started ringing with Sams name flashing. Yes, we gotta get up to the Lot.

<Or stay with our Little One, she is in heat after all.> The Wolf offered a suggestion, both animal and man inhaling your scent, commiting it to memory. His eyes roamed over yours, and your thighs started to clench under his gaze, and teeth would pull at your lower lip. Your arousal once more heavy in the air between you two, and Steve knew that he couldn't leave you alone today, not like this. Maybe it was selfish reasons, as he felt his cock start to harden, but in good concupiscence he couldn't leave you in pain, not when he could help you. “Or... I can stay ?”

When Steve extended his hand, it was hard denying that the fire coursing through your body that was laced with need made it hard not to just throw yourself at the Alpha. He already sated you once, made the urge into a full background ache for at least a little while. But now slick was pooling your cunt, the feeling of clothing was making you on edge, wanting to get them off your skin. You didn't need the clinging cotton all over you. You needed skin to skin burning into you. If you took his hand, would you ever be able to look back, take it all back.

Your Little Wolf nudged you to slide your hand into his. <take it Y/N, He needs you as much as you need him.>

He can have any mate he desires, not one as damaged as me. You stated bitterly to your wolf, and she snarled at you. He knows now Ive been used, and not suitable for the Bite.

Your eyes roamed over Steve momentiarly, and you couldn't see where he needed you, and your Little Wolf, calmed once more, nudges you again. <You can't always see it, the way he held you last night was just as much for him.>

All this happening in the seconds Steve held his hand to yours, and you stepped forward, to let your slip into his, and stepping in closer to him. Your face tilted up to his, and this time it wasn't in sadness, but need and trust. “Thank You Alpha.” Together you two made your way back to his cabin, and this time when he stretched you out on his bed, the only one left now in the cabin, both of you void of clothing, he couldn't help but admire you properly this time, his hands sliding along your sides to trace your curves, kisses flowing up and down your body worshipping till you were wriggling under him with soft pleas, when Steve would surge himself to fill you, there was a collective sigh between you two feeling him stretch you open and tighten around him, rocking together with deep demanding kisses and you tipping back when he told you to, coming completely undone.

Other times it was rough and dominating fucking. Your hands pinned over your head in his own, hard demanding thrusts claiming not just your cunt, but your whole body, pounding it into the soft cotton sheets and feather pillows on the mattress, clashing teeth biting at each other's lips, and tongues, his hand in your hair to rip your head back, Steves licking a long claiming lap up the column to your ear, grunting in it. “Give it to me Little One.” He said in the dying twilight, leaving him in shadows above you, this blue eyes as always demanding your attention, doing the best you could to listen. It was hard when you felt yourself floating in a space that was all pleasure and relief, your fingers curling around his palm keeping you pinned to the mattress, nodding that you would, you would try. You wanted to listen to him, you and your wolf craved to give him what he wanted. But by this point you were so tired, you just wanted to curl into him and sleep, free now of the ache, he sated it, made it shrink away into a distant morning memory. You tipped your head into the pillows, screaming his name while he continued powerful demanding thrusts, your cunt locking around and the last thrust had him swelling inside of you, brimming you with his seed,making you whimper out in relief, and cutching to his chest.

Careful Steve maneuvered both of you so you were straddled against his hips, rubbing your face into his shoulder and he told dragging breaths to ride out the Knotting, keeping you full of him. Your fingers dig slightly into his biceps as you rub your face into his neck, moaning out softly. “Fuck Im so tired.” Your yawning against his skin, and Steve rubs your back, kissing your temple. “Go to sleep Little One, I will be right here for you.” Rumbling softly from his chest, The Wolf settling to stand guard over your sleeping body. Steve can feel you sinking away after he tells you to, your breathing soft against his neck, and the Alpha waits till his own body cooperates, the knot easing down till he was soft again and able to ease you to lay on the bed, your lashes fluttering up for half a second before you shifted to your side, twisting till your back was pressed to him.

Knowing you would be out for a few hours at least till your urges took over once more Steve slid a sheet up to pool around your hips in case you caught chill, and moved to the edge of the bed, picking up his pants to dig out his cell phone from his pocket. Being preoccupied for the day with his mate, he hadn't been able to check on Bucky and Natasha. When he saw no messages from them, his brow furrowed. Glancing over his shoulder to check that you were still sound asleep, he slipped on boxer shorts, and stepped out onto the deck from the door in the bedroom leading to the deck, leaving the door open to let the room fill with the fresh lake air.

I won't be, I know she's got another day or two like this. Remember not to get to attactched... Steve tried gently reminding the Wolf, and the Wolf just snorted in disbelief at this point.

Still frowning as he pulled up texts, he didn't want to risk blowing Buckys cover should he be scouting Pierces lands by making his phone ring with a call.

~Any updates Buck? Haven't heard anything from either you or N all day.~ Hitting send, he set his phone down on the railing, and leaning on his elbows, he looked out over the lake, watching the stars and moon shimmer over the surface. No longer full, it wasn't as bright as usual, but Steve still felt the pull to it. It was hard to believe the run had just been a few nights ago, seeing your sleek form weaving through the trees, yellow eyes reflecting at him playfully in the moonlight. Even after spending a day together in bed exploring all the ways he could make you come undone, Steve missed feeling your warmth press into him.

Turning around, he could see the pale of your bare back in his dark bed, the moonlight lighting up enough to be able to study the curve of your hip just peeking out from under the sheet. Recalling how well you fit in his palms, you crying his name with those sweet pleases, wanting to cum again. The memory made him smile.

Steves breath caught, but fertility was hard among shifters. For some reason, having kids took a long time for mated pairs, so he wasn't to worried, having never gotten pregnant with Alanna, and it wasn't like they didn't try.

I don’t know what you think is going on, but we're not a mated pair. The likelihood I've gotten her pregnant yet is slim.

You heard her... I probably would have if she hadn't specifically asked us not to. Begged us not to . And you saw her back. It's understandable she wouldn't want that, maybe not ever.

That idea made Steves heart ache a little, although he didn't have a strong bond with Alanna, it was still something Steve appreciated, giving there wolves a connection all just for them. Until he severed it, cut Alanna loose from his Wolf. His Wolf recalling the female he once shared his life with, started shaking out his fur to dispel the discomfort she brought up in him, even with the bond, the Alpha Wolf and Alanna’s Wolf fought more then were ever companions, always snapping at each other, rarely sharing affectionate moments in the bond. When they got to physically run together, it wasn't a smooth team, pulling one another up short on accident, the dance wolves did was never smooth with them two. They could never sync up... Unlike him and You on the beach.

No, looking back on it, Steve knew bonding with Alanna was a mistake. Already this little bit he shared with You was different. Before he could get lost further in his thoughts, his phone buzzed with a message from Bucky. ~Alpha, N is with the pack now, and I'm waiting till I can extract her and bring her home.~ Steve read the message, but one part seemed odd, Bucky calling him Alpha. Never in there lives had Bucky called him that. Nicknames or Steve, but never Alpha.

~Alpha? what the hells gotten into you. Stay safe brother.~ Hitting send his brow deepened in an unsettled way when he heard you stirring behind him, holding your hands over your breasts when you came up next to Steve, nudging his shoulder lightly with your nose. “You okay Alpha?” Now hearing you say Alpha stirred him in the right ways, and his face smoothed, cocking a smile at you. “Nothing to worry about Little One, but what are you doing awake?”

“I couldn't sleep, not really. I had an urge... “

“An urge, for what Little One?” Steve questioned although he suspected he knew what she needed from him.

Dropping your sheet to pool around your feet when you went to tiptoes, kissing his cheek and catching Steve by surprise when you grinned up at him. “A swim in the moonlight.” And just as quick as you were standing before him, you werent. Even in your human form you were quick, moving down the stairs to reach the end of the dock. Steve pushed his worries about Bucky out, and followed behind, catching up once you slowed down, and dipped your foot in the water, Steve wrapped his arms around you from behind, and with a loud squeal from you, both tumbled into the water, breaking the pristine still top playing while chasing each other around, swimming further out.

Nothing but the night sky to witness you two catching each other, legs tangling together, arms around each other as you both pressed your lips together in a kiss.

Natasha paced the room, having been stuck in with other wolves for well over a day she was guessing. Once they brought her into the center of there lands, Pierce immediately rounded on her, and they forced her to shift back with threat of an injection. It could wipe out her Wolf if she was given to strong of a dose, immediately recognizing the solution filling the vial.

“Well welcome to my pack.” Pierce had snarled out slightly, going up in the naked woman's face, lewedly sniffing her neck. “Thought you were being slick huh, come infiltrate into our pack. We already got your companion, the White Wolf.” Natashas heart sank knowing they had Bucky, but she gave no inclination of it physically. She didn't have all that training for nothing.

“I don't know what your talking about Sir.”

“Sir, I like that. But Im afraid you do, see I can smell him all over you. Same scent, your packs scent. Your Alphas scent. Although it's not as strong on you. I do like a little defiant bitch. Might just keep you for now. To bad Alpha Steve used you as bait, lost himself a good female.” Pierces hands circled Natashas throat and dragged her to his eye level, searching them for defiance. Natashas wolf was raging to attack him, to get his hands off her, but Natasha kept docile, calm, waiting.

Let them underestimate me. It will be there biggest mistake.

Her Wolf listened, her muscles flexing under her red fur, muzzle rolled just enough to show bared fangs. As soon as Natasha released her, she would rip out anyone's throat.

“Put her with the others, they will give her something to wear.” Pierce finally decided, and that was that. They dragged Natasha, still compliant to a holding area, and shoved her in. The woman immediately growling at the amount of people in the room, lounging around, waiting for something to happen. A few approached her as Natasha searched for a way out with a scan of her eyes. Windows were up high, higher then any of them could jump in either form, and steel wire bared being able to get through, the only door a steel one behind her. Sighing within’ herself, she turned her attention back to the few people coming to greet her, holding out a tank top and shorts.

“Welcome to the Sales Floor.” One girl smiled as she handed over the clothing, Natasha grabbing it, the tank just a touch to small and the shorts a bit to big.

“The what?” She asked and waved a hand over her outfit. “Thanks by the way, Im Natalie.” Giving a fake name just as easily as if she gave her actual name.

“Sales Floor, were all for sale for the right buyer.” The girl held out her hand and Natasha shook it while trying to make a count of people in the room. She had been filled in on your situation a bit before leaving by Steve, and well this just confirmed all that they knew about You. The door clicked behind her, and two oversized men entered, growling at anyone close till everyone scrambled to get out of there way. One wasn't fast enough and the man's hand shot out to clasp around her neck, and the other checked her face, nodding. Without a word, they clasped a collar around her neck, and she immediately complied once it was on, falling to her knees and waiting. Two others were captured the same way, inspected and collared, then all 3 were led out of the room.

“And what was that?!” Natasha asked, the girl, dread sinking into her gut.

“They will be presented to some Alphas for sale. They will inspect them, and if they chose to purchase them, they will issue the bite to claim them. Of course if the bite doesn't work, they can return us. Also Im Kat.” She beckoned Natasha to follow her. “There’s not much to see of The Sales Floor, but let me show you around.”

Natasha felt sickened by all this, seeing all this. We're leaving as soon as possible with as many of them as well can, and find Bucky to.

<The sooner the better> The Red Wolf still coiled and ready, ears flattened and her green eyes shifting back and forth in mistrust at the others. There were at least a good twenty wolves crammed into a small space, danger laced the air with a sour taste.

Natasha followed Kat, learning more and more to bring back to Steve. That was the first night, by the second night, the night Steve and You enjoyed your swim, Natasha had a rough plan in place, just waiting for the right opportunity.

tags- @what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jtargaryen18 @official-and-unstable-satan @kimisama1989 @princess-evans-addict @bigbandbombshell @omega-nicole @patzammit @onetwo3000 @fckdeusername @alexakeyloveloki @ayamenimthiriel @irishflutiegirl @mery-be @djeniiscorner@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @rinkashirikitateku @fallenoutofrose @caffiend-queen @southerngracela @titty-teetee @imboredat2am @bohemian-barbie @farfromtommy @jennmurawski13 @keiva1000 @nightriver99 @nerdygirl8203 @lielullabye @simsadventures @wonderlandfandomkingdom

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smutty-ki113r · 3 years

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Hiya! I saw your blog and was interested in asking for a romantic matchup! You can involve nsfw if you would like.

My name is Ronan, my nickname is Ro, my most used pronouns are she/her/he/him. My sexuality is demi-sexual meaning I don’t get sexual attractions to people unless I have formed a strong emotional connection with said person. My zodiac is Scorpio (that’s pretty much all I know about that lmao) also my personality is ISTP-T

Starting with my mental trash I have a VERY low self esteem. I never liked the way I look and probably never will. I suffer from chronic depression that’s pretty much taken over my life. I have a very hard time with social cues and can come off as an asshole most of the time and I’m extremely blunt. People tend to think I’m cute since I’m fairly small; I’m a 5’3 Nordic female with thicker thighs. I am absolutely OBSESSED with The Legend of Zelda franchise, it’s been apart of my life for as long as I can remember. I’m pretty musical; I play bass, drums, and sing. I also voice act so that’s really fun. Not gonna lie I say I have a huge ego but really I just hate everyone. Having depression I mostly lock myself in my room and work on my art.

How I look: I have black/brown hair in a boy cut. I have big round hazel eyes, my face is round with slightly chubby cheeks and freckles. I want to get my lip pierced but sadly have not gotten to that yet.. My fashion sense is kinda everywhere but I typically go for the cottage core aesthetic. I love muted nature ish colors, I think they look so pretty. I love to go on long walks and sit alone at my local park. I find being alone outside very calming. When I’m not outside or in my room I’m mostly playing video games with my friends and kicking their ass. Believe it or not I used to do boxing but now I just lift weights and workout some. I have a long history of physical illnesses that really render my body kinda useless so I always try to strengthen myself up however I can. I spent most of my childhood in the hospital due to these illnesses. I have been homeschooled my whole school years but I taught myself German, Japanese, and computer science. I actually have a job around it. I’m terrible at explaining my feelings and asking for help so telling people I love them is a huge chore for me. A lot of the time you can find me alone singing to myself with my eyes closed daydreaming.

I love to read. My friends say I’m really boring but whatever. OH I’ve always wanted to be a DJ. I know its a really weird dream but it just looks so cool. Nobody ever expects the sick quiet girl to want to be a DJ. Speaking of shy I’m a huge introvert if you couldn’t figure that out already. I’m extremely shy, don’t talk to me I’ll run away or you’ll be enveloped in my Zelda talk. I have amazingly crazy music taste (according to my mom) I listen to mostly heavy metal and Corpse Husband.

NSFW: Huge HUGE brat. You want me to do something? Yeah fuck you. I’m a huge sub you can pretty much do anything to me. I have a big daddy kink like please let me call you daddy UGH. Also praise but degrade me at the same time? Please thanks. I’m also a pillow princess. Um um ddlg yes thanks.

I match you with…..💖BEN_DROWNED💖

NSFW bellow~

OK OK I KNOW I KNOW, DON’T @ me for picking Benny boy for you Ro. I just think it’s the right fit. Let me start off with the whole depression thing, BEN relates to locking himself in his room and hyperfixating on something. At least you’ll have a gaming buddy to get you through it. Plus, he’s a very competitive guy. Get him to not cheat and you will have fun for hours. Not to mention you sound a bit like Jeff in the way that you can come off as rude. BEN and Jeff are pretty good friends, so you’ll make a wonderful partner for BEN.

Voice acting? BEN will love that, he’ll try to get you to do different characters from his video games or even anime characters. He loves your chubby cheeks, likes to squish them and make them puckered and then give you kisses. It’s quite adorable. Zelda talk? Yeah you don’t need to worry about him running off about that.

BEN will be obsessed with the cottage core, probably likes those little white flowy dresses. Maybe one day wear those elf ears and surprise him, I think he’d think it’s cute. You should definetly do his makeup, put that holographic glitter on his cheeks and some hair clips in his hair- maybe a skirt if he feels up to it.

BEN is very understanding about your illnesses, in fact he would be super impressed that you even lift weights. And is so so supportive about you wanting to be a DJ. He gets excited and calls over Jeff to show him. He’s not very shy about saying I love you, maybe the first time but after it’s constant affection.

For the smut! He can get rough sometimes, loves the daddy kink. He’s the type to soak all that up like a sponge. Praises you for taking his cock so well but will call you pathetic for making those noises. Probably wants you to wrap your thighs around his head and suck your clit for hours, he likes to feel you cum.

Ok Ok I hope you enjoyed that! I love how you have a big ego and then- low self esteem, sounds like me. I literally hate myself so much and then… holy shit I’m the hottest person alive. I know what depression is like, those thoughts just wrap around your throat and choke the life out of you, and it’s not even fast. It’s every day just heavier and heavier, dragging you down and making you feel horrible. I mostly lock myself in my room too, but writing helps me through it. I love love love your hair, boy cuts are so cool. And get that lip piercing! IT WOULD LOOK AWESOME. I love that you’re talented in music, I wish I was musically inclined. Scorpios are so cool, like I said, my best friend is one and so I LOVE YOU GUYS.

I am so incredibly proud of you, homeschool and then the illness stuff must be so hard but you are so strong for going through it. You don’t deserve it but sometimes life works that way. It’s ok to be shy and introverted. For the record, I think you would make an awesome DJ. DO it, I believe in you, so should you. I mean we all have our passions, work hard enough and I promise you’ll get there. I used to write a lot about my feelings and nobody ever read it, but I continued and look where I am now! Im so proud of myself for having this account, and you for being ALIVE. Thats all you need to do, you don’t need to be cool, or popular or skinny to be an amazing person.

Ro, I swear you are an awesome person. I can clearly see it, and I promise one day you’ll look in the mirror and think the same. If your friends say you’re boring they aren’t your friends. They sort of suck because reading is so cool. Without readers I couldn’t be a writer now could I? I believe in you. I know you can do it. Lifting weights is so badass I couldn’t even- I can barely do 5 pound weights man. Ya know I believe that the people who go through the most pain and sadness are the ones who will be the happiest in the end. The universe has to give us back what we lost, there is balance in everything and pain is only temporary. Everything is temporary. So I promise it’ll be ok man, and hey, you’re valid. I see you ro, and I know that you’ll make great places someday.

#ben drowned #creepypasta #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned creepypasta #Ben drowned x you #📯#♠️

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galaxyguidetolovinggirls · 3 years

Text

The Galaxy Guide to loving girls presents: Fashion across the galaxy.

Ladies. We all know how to dress to impress. We all have that special dress, or that cute skirt that will make your gf or every girl in the club fall over her heels for you. But as big as our closets are the galaxy is even bigger. And fashion changes in different ways depending on where you are. For those who haven't visit the outer rim, who have never go down the rabbit hole of parties on the core worlds or venture into Hutt Space, we bring you fashion trends and advices from every corner of the galaxy

Core Worlds

Naboo. Let me tell you something. If you are a cute girl really into pastel colors, silk robes and dresses that go all the way down to the floor, jewelry from every corner of the galaxy or just really, but REALLY sexy swimsuits, Naboo is your place. Home to the capital of Fashion, Theed, and has a little bit for everyone! The beaches and lakes are a great place to get some skin out, so take some sunscreen and a cute swimsuit and relax. The raves are also a wild space where you can have some fun with some of the cutest girls in the galaxy. You will be getting into a beautiful and wild rainbow of colors, where people laugh, drink and dance until they cant stand. And finally tea parties in the city are the best place to try new things. The nobles from Naboo are really grounded and they try to give back at the people. Getting invited is a bit tricky as everyone wants to go but its a excellent place to go out in your fancy clothes.

Alderaan. Fancy. That's what you need to think when dressing up for Alderaan. For years, the different houses of Alderaan had made the planet into a jewel for high society parties and ball dances! As so, the people in Alderaan love to dress to impress. Think tight dresses with the best cuts, amazing haircuts, and of course, the most impressive lingerie and tattoos you can think off! For Alderanians, everything should be fashionable. Your hair, your skin, your clothes and even your underwear. Of course you can also hit the more casual parties. Most of the population like the fashion from the nobles, but they also want to relax every now and then. So you can get yourself some old clothes, some easy makeup, flats, and just go and share a drink around a fire. Casual parties are often in the middle of the wood so you can get away from the noise of the cities

Corellia. Now listen up ladies. Corellia is the bomb. And i'm not saying that in some sick way because of all the imperial bombardments. Corellia is a place where you can go and fuck around. You want to go for wild colors? You want to wear all black in the middle of the park? You want to have a skirt shorter than your ass and strings as a bra? Corellia has a place for everyone! From the east plazas to the north raves, Corellia embraces diversity of extreme styles like no other place.

Outer Rim

Tatooine. Now listen. Many people don't know this but there is an actual FASHION WORLD in Tatooine. Most smugglers across the galaxy end up in here after running away with some loot. So to cheat boredom, they began to go through their goods and loot to thrown parties. After a while this parties became a nice event that has become a tradition. The hottest things in Tatooine beside the sand, are ponchos and hats! You need to protect yourself from the sun ladies so sunglasses are also really cool! The colors are usually clear and with few jewels so you dont tempt the patrons. But if you fancy some new type of fashion, head over Tatooine for a party! Just remember your sunscreen.

Nar Shaddaa. The fashion on Nar Shaddaa has 2 sides. Neon and wild colors and High Sexy Fashion. If you have been in Nar Shaddaa, or at least its higher levels, you know that the world is a big Ad. Everyone wants you to go and spend money in either a casino or in a bar. As so, most streets are filled with Neon signs and wild colors to hook you up. Parties are the same. Nobody will be judging you here so go wild, get yourself as many colors as you want, some high heels or flats that make you feel cute and hit whatever party you want. Some bars have a color scheme so if you really want to kill it, try to plan ahead. Otherwise even wearing 6 or 7 colors is cool! Now there's also the highest parties. Here, people with power and influence throw their sexiest dresses and go to have some fun. Most parties of course are private but there are a good amount that will let you in as long as you look cute or sexy. These parties are usually wild as everyone invited will be looking to hook up.

Rishi. Now girls! Rishi is the capital of pirates. If you thought Nar Shaddaa was a paradise for smugglers Rishi is heaven on steroids. But worry not! There are some good souls in Rishi that want to keep civilians safe so they can spend money around. And one of the best attractions on the planet is the Jungle Cat Walk! Here, pirates and smugglers lend all the clothes they have to the prettiest girls, so they can walk around the party and catch buyers. There's also pirate fashion battles, where a group of girls try to come up with a new outfit out of random stuff in a box in order to win. And of course, for all of you not in a pirate gang or smuggling goods, you can go and enjoy yourself in the after party! The fashion in Rishi is wild. You must look as cute and dangerous as you can! People even carry knives under their dresses just to look better! Greeen, gold and red are your best friends. And there are plenty of beaches for you to go and try for a wild swimsuit. Do try to avoid heavy jewelry as you don't want to tempt locals

Special Mentions

Dromund Kaas. Now I know that not everyone wants to go get themselves in the middle of some sith drama. But if you manage to stick to the drama free parts of Kaas City, you will actually have a good time. Now as the capital of all things sith and scary, Droming Kaas is also the capital of all things goth and metal. If you fancy wearing black as dark as your soul, metal spikes and chains, or just a dramatic dress out of a fantasy movie, you will be right at home. Of course, not everything is black in Kaas. Some people like to wear white and gold to look like characters from movies. Some even wear fake armor just to look cool. As i said. The capital of drama is a place where you can wear whatever as long as it is amazing. Cosplayers might find this is their own little paradise. Just stay away from wearing anything to similar to prominent sith’s

#wlw #star wars #starwars #swtor #star wars lesbian #starwars lesbian #swtor lesbian #star wars: the old republic #starwars wlw #star wars wlw #lesbian #The Galaxy Guide to Loving Girls #Galaxy Guide to loving girls #star wars fashion #starwars fashion #swtor fashion #star was gay

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vyctoyr · 4 years

Text

Have you ever had a dream like this? I was taking an elevator Elevator of the most regular kind A heavy rectangular box Standing on its less stable side People were still approaching, yet I rushed closed the door I could almost hear their grump Of missing an almost empty hence supposedly enjoyable ride

As the door shuts in front of my face We started going down! Yes, down it went, though I distinctly remembered it’s some higher floors I’m destined to arrive It was an weird feeling Because the elevator seemed to be made of glass, that I could see what a beautiful, beautiful day it was out there The sunlight, people thronging and stuff I wanted to go up, all the way up To see this paradise from above

But instead it was going down!

It wasn’t going down without a struggle, no After a series of futile gestures, much like the heart beat of a dying man at his last five seconds The elevator made its attempts, nothing more than some upward bumps that really concern than promise After which down the shaft we went Sliding down as darkness closed up on me Blocking all fake illusions of such paradise Engulfing me, into the boundless, the everflowing

The elevator was made of glass Or at least some transparent material that granted me a vision However, it was also quite oppressive So it could also be just the regular kind: metal floor, metal ceiling, metal walls Heavy and impenetrable, surrounded me, along with my claustrophobic soul Wishing to escape, but confined permanently in a descending cage

Everything it’s just like Laure’s tunnel In fact I would argue that the very fact I have listened to that two-minute track of recitation is the only reason I was having this rather stupid dream I remembered closing my eyes, picturing what it would be like to spend seventy-two hours without talking And now, I’m living the dream, the nightmare, actually, to be precise Except for her, the tunnel wasn’t moving It was very much stable and in place Her darkness was also healing and would eventually lead to profound revelation Which granted her an extraordinary vision, calmness and catharsis From which she eventually was elevated

For me, there was only descent The perpetual motion that brought me closer to the core by the minute A perpetual nightmare from which no escape is granted While the young kamikaze pilot plummets to his death

An overwhelming panic overtook my entire body Naturally, I was terrified Being the only person on that damned elevator I experienced intense shock, anger, suffocation, agitation As if refusal would somehow magically resolve the doomed situation But only giving way to fatigue and resignation The only things that would last, forever

It was not like I saw nothing, no There was some lighting, though far from ample or warm So under such flickering light sufficient to ward of the swallowing darkness I thought of how bizarre it was, everything in the now upper world Where fairness is nothing more than a poorly fabricated fairytale What did I do to deserve this torture? Why am I the only one going down, at thankfully not a plummeting speed Into whatever god-forbidden crevice the shaft is lodged? How come that I ended up so miserably?

In fact how “unfair” is everything, I wondered? When some die almost immediately after taking their first breath fresh out of their mother’s womb, emanciated by malaria While others were born free and equal, on the land of democracy, destined to become the president who turned out to be a giant incompetent hoax and would fuck everybody in the ass Why do people think we’re getting more and more socialist, an absurd term in itself, when we are at a spot where everything is swamped with consumerism, when everything is more capitalist than we’ve ever seen? What is my place in this world? Do I have a place at all, or is everything just pure chance: the unbearable lightness of being!

After the most exhausting inquiry came a moment of repose Or again, of fatigue and of resignation, I should say My mind was going everywhere, as you can probably tell There wasn’t much to be done in such a pathetically small space I wondered whether it was what these orcas at sea world felt like

The thing was still going down Its motion is quite independent from my feeling Just like the rest of the world, never acting according to our will I thought about bigotry, hubris, and all kinds of blind confidence that are actually various kinds of arrogance as a result of anthropocentric thinking We are not the center of universe, and the universe, she doesn’t care!

It was in this descending box that I first tasted despair Or was it despair? I find it hard to recall What remained is more like the numbness of despair, or again, the fatigue and the resignation that ensued Which, oddly enough, tasted somewhat like hope and love All of them share some defining yet indistinguishable flavors

Yea, you’re right, hope and love were what it was Cuz what else was there to feel on that great spectrum of emotions? The elevator put me in perspective Sometimes the abolishment of false hopes is the only way to true ones One can only find love after the rejection of unctuous mimicry We need to accept what it is, and make the best out of it How pathetically ridiculous is it when some people try to defend their hollow positivism when Camus is the only one standing up agains the eternal lawlessness? How stupidly stubborn, those who turn their back on the suffering, just to protect the scientism and fragile religiosity of justice in which they seek solace? How incredibly selfish, and again, blindly arrogant, for anybody who could simply become this part of collective illusion and self-willing unconsciousness, just that they could feel better, and commit philosophical suicide? They don’t realize that their fabrication, while potent enough to intoxicate themselves, is the sole source of pain Again, the universe does not care

I could only hope, in the descending elevator That we see the world for what it is Just like the little prison that keeps going down Its motion never succumbing to any individual will Following Camus’ advocacy There’s a chance to revolution Or just to make it slightly better, just slightly better is all I’m asking The collapse of utopia, the memory still fresh, like it all happened yesterday

Suddenly, I sensed a radical change of course Instead of going downward, the elevator starts to move to the side Just when I thought it couldn’t get anymore surreal I found that I was finally able to zoom out, literally To see the fast-moving elevator on from afar Suddenly, I saw a city, just its buildings actually, as I’m moving at a frantic speed in a building too Turns out that I had been traveling in thin air The cityscape at night was not exactly beautiful But it was the first thing I had witnessed, after the fatigue and the resignation So without hesitation I basked in serenity Though I cannot forget

The elevator did not stop, nor did I expect it to Maybe it would stop at some point, maybe it would explode and destroy the entire city, killing every life bold enough to live there Maybe it simply wouldn’t stop till the end of the world Or was there an end or a world at all? Regardless, the elevator flies forward Somehow, I could still see everything from afar: the motion, the city, the blurring night sky, the lights in thousands of soulless, identical households, and the silent, colossal concrete structure in which the elevator careens fearlessly ahead Till it’s time for you to ask: what nonsensical nonsense is all this BS? To that I offer no answer, cuz I don’t want to, and I can’t: It was just a stupid and chimerical dream

Have you ever had a dream like this? I bet not, cuz you can’t

- Sep 2, 2020

Based on an old dream that was brought back by another horrifying dream I had at five o’clock in the morning.

#poetry #spilled ink #english poem #new poets society

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haloud · 5 years

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friday night lights

ao3

On a Friday night, long after Michael’s locked up at the junkyard, just as the stars come out in full, Michael lets Alex pull him across the parking lot of their old high school, across the dewy football field, and under the silver bleachers. The whole way, he laughs and tugs on Alex’s arm and asks him why, but Alex doesn’t answer, not until they’re hidden away like kids trying to get away with skipping class and grabbing ass. His answer comes with him wrapping them both up in a blanket Michael recognizes from his truck and backing Michael up against a beam to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him, hands roaming over his chest, living and hot and vital in his arms.

All the warmth of their two bodies swaddled up in the blanket sinks deep into Michael’s core, in stark contrast to the chill of the cheap aluminum strut digging into his back. Alex pulls back, murmurs his name, and says something else too, but Michael doesn’t hear him—he just listens to the rumble of Alex’s chest and smiles against the dewy skin of his neck in a lingering close-mouthed kiss. Slowly, gently, he plucks at the hem of Alex’s shirt to get his hands underneath, to slide his palms against warm skin and feel every scar, every ridge of muscle, and the enticing line of hair leading down below his jeans

Alex hums and runs his hand from the small of Michael’s back up to rub tight little circles into the perpetual knot of tension gathered at the base of his neck, making Michael’s eyes slide shut on a soft moan.

“You’re not listening to me, are you,” Alex asks as Michael slips his fingers just under the lip of his waistband.

“I might’ve gotten a little distracted,” Michael agrees, and Alex slides his hands down Michael’s arms to wrap gently around his wrists, not pulling him away, just holding him still. He takes the blanket with him, and Michael shivers a bit as his shoulders are exposed to the cool night air.

“I just wanted to say.” Alex licks his lips; his thumbs skim gentle patterns on the insides of Michael’s wrists. “We may not have had much time, back then. But I imagined everything with you. Everything. Sex, fighting, make-up sex, cooking dinner together, owning a dog together, kissing at Niagra Falls—”

A little laugh escapes Michael, and he tries to get himself even closer, pressing his nose into Alex’s cheek. “When Mrs. Danley’s substitute showed us nature documentaries for a week straight instead of actually teaching?”

“Wh—oh my god, you remember that too?”

They both dissolve into giggling; Alex even brings his arms back up around Michael’s shoulders, bringing all the warmth back with him.

“We didn’t even have that class together,” Michael laughs into the space under Alex’s jaw, and Alex says:

“I imagined this too, though. Stupid teen movie drama stuff.” He pulls Michael closer, away from the support beam, and his fingers skim feather-light down from Michael’s neck to the base of his spine and back up again, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Sharing milkshakes at the Crashdown…driving out into the desert to make out…but this,” his eyes flick up to the bleachers above them, and a little smirk curves the corner of his mouth, “This was one of my favorites.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael’s tongue darts out to wet his lip, and Alex chases the motion, pressing in to taste him, clutching Michael by the small of his back so he can grind their hips together. The unexpected friction pulls a delicious mmm out of Michael’s chest, and he lets his head fall back to bare his throat.

“Yeah. With Kyle being starting quarterback? I used to think about taking guys down here during games; claiming territory, so to speak. The crowd would roar, but you would have to be so quiet.”

Alex’s pupils are dilated big and black in the darkness, nothing like the pinpricks they’d be under white-hot stadium lights, but Michael can still imagine it in vivid detail—huffing and crying his desperate lust into the palm of Alex’s hand; trying to stay so still, every motion flooding his system with adrenaline like the movement of their hips could rock the whole world, letting everyone know what they were doing.

“There’s no one here right now,” Michael rasps, shuddering and grinding back against the growing hardness pressing into him.

“Mmm. Then what do you say, Guerin?” Alex runs his fingers around Michael’s belt, rests his hand on the buckle, applying gentle pressure—forcing Michael’s back to arch into his touch. “Want to make some old memories?”

Michael answers with a buck of his hips before he can even manage to speak, and Alex indulges him by setting a rhythm all his own, controlling the pace with that hand rubbing hard and rough at the base of Michael’s spine.

Eventually, Michael gasps out, “Ha—I would’ve, I would’ve, you know—”

“What do I know, Michael,” Alex croons back, oh so slowly bringing his other hand back around to finally undo Michael’s belt. The thought of Alex’s skin on his skin in the cool night air makes Michael’s cock pulse with eager heat, and he sways in place like the motion might make Alex move faster at stripping away the awful layers between them.

“Under the bleachers,” he says, swallowing dry, begging for more, “During a game. You coulda called me any time, I woulda—”

“Yeah?” Triumph and hunger in that single word, in the way he stops undressing Michael to grab his ass in a bruising grip, in the way the next thrust of his hips is so sharp and good it drives Michael up onto his toes and makes him drop open his mouth to taste the air. There’s triumph and hunger, too, in the way Alex lunges forward to sink his teeth into Michael’s collarbone, exposed by the slouching collar of his flannel shirt, making a twin to the aching heartbeat between Michael’s thighs, a perfect little circle bruise that spreads the most delicious pain through his veins.

“Would’ve come for you, gone on my knees for you, even then—anything. Hhaahh.”

Michael can feel Alex’s cock just as hard and full all pressed against him, crashing into him and grinding, ruthless friction and sensation that the two layers of denim between them keeps blunt and dulled and—Michael whines out loud, a pining sound, trusting Alex to understand, to slide his hand down between them and release some of that throbbing, trapped pressure.

“Anything? Really? I had a pretty good imagination back then, you know.” He bites down again and again, little nips moving up and up into the tender little spot just behind Michael’s jaw, where he stops to suck, hard, hard enough to leave another bruise, this one a high and unmistakable, and Michael knows, he knows, Alex is thinking too about how they never could have done this, never could have staked any kind of claim anyone could see. Now, though, everyone will, every one of Michael’s clients, every drunk at the Pony, they’ll see how Michael fingers that spot absentmindedly, a smile on his face, and they’ll know.

“Anything,” Michael breathes, ruffling Alex’s soft hair where it’s pressed against his cheek, leaning his head against Alex’s and just resting it there, too weak to do anything else.

“What if I’d wanted you in detention—gotten under your desk, spread your legs and got you in my mouth, knowing the teacher could walk back in at any time—” And Alex pulls back from Michael, who cries out for him, tries to tug him back in, then cries again when Alex seizes his curls and jerks his head into place to look directly into his eyes. That burn—the slight sting of having his hair pulled, the sight of Alex’s burning, hungry gaze, the bitten red of his mouth—Michael’s cock twitches desperately, pathetically against the front of his jeans.

“What if,” Alex says, and he runs a single finger down Michael’s zipper, too light for him to feel it at all but so close Michael whines through clenched teeth, “What if I brought you down here on a Friday night but your mouth wasn’t enough—even though anyone could walk by, what if I wanted to open you up and fuck you, claim you right there—what if I wanted people to see you—”

“Fuck!” Michael fumbles his hand down to squeeze his cock as it pulses dangerously—he can already feel pre soaking the fabric, so close to coming in his pants like the kid he used to be—Alex bringing him so, so close with nothing but words, and—

“Do it. Come for me. Do it, Michael.”

And Michael does the only thing he can—obey. He frots desperately against the heel of his own hand, panting into the open air, and he feels exposed, feels every ounce of intention thick and heavy in Alex’s voice. He tips over the edge with Alex’s hands on his hips, teeth against his ear, his thighs tense and shake and he comes in his pants all weak and trembling. The second he lets go, Alex jerks him around; Michael grips the support beam, rubs his flushed face against the cold metal as Alex drives against the curve of his ass until he comes too, body laid over Michael’s back so his forehead rests tenderly on the base of Michael’s neck.

Michael finds his voice some long minutes later, after Alex has turned him around again, wrapped them both back up in the blanket, after they’ve exchanged more long, lazy kisses as they both wind down.

“Anything,” Michael repeats against Alex’s mouth, and he’s rewarded with a hand sliding back into his hair to rub and tug against his scalp in slow, soothing circles. He says, “Now, too. Anything.”

“Just let me know whenever you want to make up for lost time,” Alex murmurs back, “I’ll even let you pick what we do next.”

#rnmweek19 #roswellweek19 #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #it's smut y'all

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novantinuum · 6 years

Text

A Tale of Two Trollhunters (Ch. 1)

AO3

Fandoms: Gravity Falls, Trollhunters

Rating: T

Words: ~2800

Summary: Glass Shard Beach, 1967. When the trollhunter Kanjigar perishes years before he was supposed to, the amulet of daylight finds its next champion in a seventeen year old Stanley Pines. Now essential in the destiny of both the trolls' subterranean world and the human one above, Stan, along with his twin brother and girlfriend, must fight to protect both worlds from the dark forces creeping in at the edges.

But destiny has a way of being unpredictable.

A Gravity Falls/Trollhunters fusion AU. Kind of a drabble series?

Note: Little to no knowledge of Trollhunters is required to understand this, I think, since Stan is going to discover this world for himself.

Next chapter

It all started a lifetime ago... in a place called Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. The beachside town’s name preceded its reputation, its shorelines covered in the razor sharp, glittering remains of broken beer bottles. Scattered among the glass, a diligent child might occasionally find a shard of quartz or another translucent mineral, but regardless it’s recommended that one doesn’t dare romp along the shore barefooted, least they slice the bottoms of their feet raw. This was the warning delivered to a young Stanley Pines every time he and his twin brother left their apartment to spend the day at the beach. Predictably, he ignored his mother’s words entirely. He liked feeling the rough gristle of sand between his toes, and a little glass wasn’t about to scare him away from that pleasure. Since, wasn’t glass just superheated crushed rock anyways? He wiggled his bare toes in the wet sand, watching as the horizon over the ocean became darker and darker, the sun setting behind him. “Hey Stan, come here,” his brother called, waving at him from the underside of the docks, right where they jutted out from the busy boardwalk. “Have you seen this?” He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, and traversed the perilous dunes with a studied precision, nimbly hopping from one safe spot to the next. Tonight he hadn’t stepped on any glass at all, at least not yet. Finally, he reached his brother, who stood next to a large pile of rubble. Rubble. Oh boy, he knew where this conversation was going. He crossed his arms, feeling a chuckle bubbling up inside him. “That’s a pile of rocks,” he stated glibly, watching his brother’s face closely. “Yes, and there’s markings, perhaps even runes on them,” Ford exclaimed, picking up a chunk of rock and running his fingers across its smooth surface. “Ford, come on, I know you like your spooky conspiracy theories and everythin’, but,” he said with a heavy sigh, picking up a split piece and bouncing it in the palm of his hand, “we all know there’s no such thing as rock people.” His twin shook his head, winds of denial stirring around him in the air. He knelt next to the odd crumbled formation, squinting at the rubble through thick lenses. He splayed his fingers, all six, across an unusually smooth section of the rock, and deep down Stan knew this was indeed why Ford found himself so invested in the theory of unusual creatures and anomalies in the first place. “No, no, no, look, really look at the curvature of this,” he said. “It looks like part of a shoulder. It’s buffed too smooth to be a mere coincidence of nature.” “Okay, so,” Stan shrugged, “maybe it’s just a statue, y’know? Somethin’ from town. Kids steal stuff and smash it on the beach all the time.” Ford rose to his feet, desperation reflected in the width of his eyes. He held the broad shoulder piece to his chest, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I know what I saw this morning, Stan! There were two of them, fighting near these docks-“ “And I’m tellin’ ya’, it was still pretty dark. I’m sure what you saw was just two large guys duking it out, all right?” Stan grabbed the edge of the dock, used a stray nail sticking out of the post as a foothold, and boosted himself up. He swung his other leg onto the wooden deck. “Listen, Sixer, I think your theories are real interesting, okay? They’d make really good stories, I honestly think that.” With a grunt, he used his hands to push his full body weight onto the dock, letting out a breath of relief when he was settled. “But you can’t just yell it to everyone you see, else they all gonna think you’re crazy.” He offered a hand to his brother. With a huff Ford declined, opting to climb up the stairs a few feet to their left. When he met up with Stan on the dock, the teen was cradling his foot, prodding at callused skin. “Youch,” he muttered, and as he took his finger away Ford could see a small spot of blood. “Should’ve known the nail was a bad idea. Welp, I’ll patch it up when we get home. You ready?” Ford nodded, still carrying the chunk of rock. “I’m not crazy,” he said quietly, taking one last glance at the stony formation on the shore. “I know I’m not crazy.”

____

“Hey, Dad,” Stan greeted with a hesitant grin as he edged through the side door of the pawn shop. “Just, uh- just gettin’ a bandaid, so-“ “Haven’t we warned you about walking over the glass without shoes?” he father muttered, surely leveling him the look from behind his tinted glasses. “Yeah, well it wasn’t glass this time, it was a nail on the docks,” he said, opening the nearest drawer and rummaging through its contents. “Don’t be a smart ass. You know what we mean.” His dad picked up a weathered cardboard box from the floor, filled to the brim with old artifacts and jewelry. The shelves were bare, items carefully placed on a side table. He must be taking time to organize and dust the pawn shop, which he only really did when he obtained something special and new. Stan found the box of bandages, and unwrapped one for his foot. “D’ya get anything cool in today? Anything worth a buck?” he asked, plastering it over his wound. “Actually, yes,” his dad nodded, and walked over to the table of goods. His hand wrapped around a circular object, a metallic disk. “Someone came by and sold this just this morning. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, or the kind of symbols written along the side.” Stan squinted at the writing on the disk his father displayed to him. “Is that some sorta... Russian?” “Cyrillic, son,” he corrected him with a frown. “And no. I’ve appraised enough old family heirlooms to recognize most forms of writing. I don’t recognize this at all. In that case, it might be an artifact rare enough to actually be worth something.” “Huh,” Stan muttered, appraising the object himself. It was fashioned from a shiny, blemish-less metal, with the unknown script carved all the way along the rim. Some sort of shimmering blue crystal was inset in the middle, along with a series of metal dials and rings. It reminded him a little of the gears in his great aunt’s grandfather clock. The blue crystal softly glowed as he grasped it in his palm. “Stanley Pines,” a gruff, commanding voice whispered. “Yeah, Dad?” he asked, swinging around. His father blinked in confusion. “I- didn’t say anything.” “But, you called my name? I just heard you.” “Wasn’t me,” he shrugged, pulling down the brim of his hat. “Perhaps it was your mother. In fact, go bother her instead, Stan. I’ve got work to take care of before I close.” “Fine,” he said hollowly, retreating up the steps and into the apartment. He kicked at the doorpost, bottom lip jutted out. He saw how it was. After all, it’s not like his father was particularly affectionate or agreeable in manner. Least, not with him. Now seventeen years old, Stan sometimes feared his dad would never see him as anything else than a directionless bum. And the worst part? Maybe he was right. ____ Stan lay in his bed buried in the folds of his blanket, back ramrod straight. On this fateful night, he straddled that dreadful line between complete exhaustion and yet inability to rest. The reasoning? Far too much was on his mind- from his conversation by the docks with Ford earlier, to the date he had later this week with Carla, to his father’s hurtful dismissal, and now… “Stanley... Stanley Pines...” That weird glowy amulet thing. Stan pressed his hands flush against his face, and groaned in frustration. Oh, who was he kidding? There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. At least, not with that creepy, low voice constantly calling out his name. He rolled over, further tangling himself in his sea of blankets until he was comfortable, and drank in the sound of his brother’s quiet snoring from the bunk above. “Stanley Pines...” A strange sense of connection- of belonging- strummed in his heart like the discovery of a harmonious chord. No matter what distractions he fed himself all he could think about was that amulet, about its warmth when he held it yesterday evening, its blue, pulsing glow. Somehow it felt as if... something within it was reaching out towards him, electrifying his nerves and latching onto his very core of being. He scratched at his armpit. The thought made him kinda itchy, to be honest. What on earth was he even thinking? Was this the first sign he’d truly and finally cracked? Or perhaps it was just the memory of Ford’s fairytales eating away at his mind, siphoning his imagination, making him see and feel things that couldn’t truly exist. “Stanley Pines!” the call tugged at him. “Okay, okay, I’m listening!” he hissed under his breath. “What d’ya want?” Stan knew what it wanted. Or at least, he knew what he wanted, deep down. He could practically see its location, down to the very space on the shelf Dad had relocated it to last night. He felt driven to... to hold it. He breathed in deeply. “What’s gotten into you, Stan?” he muttered to himself, wrestling his way out of his soft cottony bindings. Finally free, he swung his feet to the floor and stood up. The bed posts creaked at his movement. He froze, holding his breath. His heart thrummed a warrior’s beat in his chest. Seconds of his life stretched into centuries. His brother didn’t wake, however- instead merely letting out a sleepy sigh and rolling over. Relief filled his chest. Taking the edges of the floorboards to avoid the particularly squeaky sections, Stan crept through the apartment, swiping the key to the pawn shop off the kitchen counter. This was perhaps the stupidest thing he’d ever done. If Dad found out he’d been in the shop at three in the morning he’d whoop at his ass, but- he had to know. He couldn’t bear the thought of lying still another moment without understanding what this amulet was, and why it called to him so fervently. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocked the door to the shop. He wrapped his palm around the knob, twisted it. The rusty hinge gave a sour note, Stan cringing as he pushed the door ajar. His line of sight immediately locked on the amulet located across the room, glowing blue with a vibrant intensity. “Stanley Pines,” the voice said once more, this time almost in greeting. “Okay, geeze, I’m here,” he huffed, pacing across the pawn shop to the far shelf where the disk perched on its stand. Standing on his tiptoes, he wrapped his fingers around the amulet and pulled it off the shelf. Its glow pulsed as he came into contact. He gently rubbed his finger against the metal, peering at the strange object. What was the point of all this? What did it want? “You’re crazy,” he whispered to himself, clutching the thing in clammy fingers. “You’ve officially lost it, congrats. ____ The teen took the strange amulet to the beach so he could puzzle over it in privacy, without worrying about his dad waking up. He lay relaxed on the deck of Ford and his’ boat, the one they’d been refurbishing over the last five or so years with their spare pocket cash. Dawn was fast approaching. The sun lapped at the edge of the horizon, beginning to overpower and diminish the pinpricked light of the stars. A gentle ocean breeze dusted his cheeks. “What are you?” he muttered, turning the amulet in his hands. Suddenly, the strange runic writing around the rim flickered, changing to what he recognized as Chinese characters. His eyes widened. It changed again to a few other written scripts, before eventually settling in English. As dumb as it sounded, magic or aliens were the only rational explanations he could think of to explain the amulet’s behavior. Well then, maybe some of Ford’s kooky theories were closer to the truth than he originally gave him credit for. He peered closely at the readable script around the edge of the casing. “For the glory of Merlin,” he read to himself quietly, brow furrowing, “daylight is mine to command.” All was still for a moment. The winds ceased. The first direct rays of sun broke out over the horizon, framing Stan’s features in tones of red and gold. Then, some glowing spherical body shot out of the disk, startling him to attention. He shot to his feet, holding the amulet up to the sun so he could see what on earth was going on. His hand nearly shook, current mood locked somewhere on the spectrum between slack faced shock and curiosity fueled exhilaration. After all, what was one supposed to feel when some glowing blue speck- yes, that’s what he’d refer to it as from now on- decided to float through his chest, making its home within him? He gasped at the intrusion, splaying his hand over his heart where they entered. Another slurry of glowing specks released themselves from the amulet, and suddenly Stan found his toes leaving the deck. Whatever exclamation he felt compelled to make as this strange magic pulled him skyward was lost in the confusion of what happened next. Silver metal materialized in the air around his limbs, fashioning itself into armor. He hung there a moment longer in the wake of iridescent blue, sections of armor weaving into solid plates and gauntlets around him. The amulet floated out of his hand and fastened into place over his heart. Then just as quickly as he was lifted, his rebellion against gravity ended and Stan fell back to deck. He stumbled backwards, trying not to tip over from the imbalance of the bulky armor. Just as he was about to question the ungainly size of this armor’s chest-plate, (not to mention the existence of this armor in the first place), the amulet’s crystal pulsed brightly, and the armor shrank to fit his body. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed, holding his arms out to admire the intricate decorative grooves carved into the arm brace and wrist guard. He flexed his fingers, clinking the metal fingertips together. This was... this was wild. Unbelievable, really. Man, Ford was going to flip when he showed him what he found! His palm glowed a dazzling white, and from this point grew- as if fashioned from the very morning light he was illuminated by- the hilt and blade of a long, mighty sword. His jaw dropped. This was literally the coolest thing that’s ever happened to him, better than winning the boxing class final match, or even when he and Ford found the bones of their ship as kids. It was the likes of which a younger him might have daydreamed about. His lips stretched into a grin. Paired with an experimental lunge in his armor, he tried to swing his new weapon. Unfortunately however, the sword was far, far, too heavy. Stanley grimaced, wrapping his other hand around the hilt to try and stabilize it. There always had to be a catch to these wish fulfillment sort of things, didn’t there? Or maybe the last guy to use this magic-y object was just a pretty bulky, strong guy. “Come on, shrink like the rest of it,” he begged quietly, scraping the point against the wood. Either his words were well timed, or the whole warrior’s ensemble listened to his very desire, because the sword did just that. He held it up to the air, finding his grinning reflection in the polished surface. Confidently, he gave the blade a wide test swing... ...and promptly lodged it into the mast. “Whoops,” he said sheepishly. ____ In the far distance, a tall, six-eyed figure watched intently from the mouth of a cave. He witnessed everything, from the moment the boy took the amulet from the shop, to when he read the inscription and successfully activated it for the first time. There was no doubt about it- the amulet didn’t make mistakes. It belonged to the boy now. He nervously clasped both sets of hands together, determining what actions he might take next. “By Deya’s grace,” the troll exclaimed, peering towards the wide world beyond the shadows. “The next trollhunter... is a human!”

#gravity falls #trollhunters #gravity falls fanfiction #trollhunters fanfiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #filbrick pines #blinkous galadrigal #a tale of two trollhunters #gon just... save a tag for this #my writing stuff

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thisaintascenereviews · 6 years

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Album Review by Bradley Christensen Metallica – Self-titled (The Black Album) Record Label: Elektra Release Date: August 12 1991

Metallica is one of the most interesting bands of metal, because they’ve reached levels of success that barely any metal bands have been able to reach. Going back to 1982, this band first started when drummer Lars Ulrich wanted to start a band, because Metal Blade Records’ CEO, Brian Slagel, was putting together a compilation album of unsigned bands, because he loved metal. It was going to be called Metal Massacre, and the first couple of these compilations were the first releases ever put out by Metal Blade. Metallica was almost signed to Metal Blade, but they got picked up by Megaforce, where they released 1983’s Kill ‘Em All, and 1984’s Ride The Lightning. Depending on who you talk to, Metallica either sold out after they signed to Elektra, before 1986’s Master Of Puppets was released, or they sold out when 1991’s The Black Album was released. I’ll be talking about the latter album today, but what’s interesting is that they were already huge in the underground prior to The Black Album’s release. Metallica are one of the bands in “the Big Four,” and no, it’s not “the Big Four of Metal,” or anything like that, but the Big Four of thrash metal – Slayer, Metallica, Anthrax, and Megadeth. Megadeth, if you want a quick fun fact, was started after guitarist Dave Mustaine was actually kicked out of Metallica. Funny how they’re one of the best-selling and most prolific thrash bands of the late 80s and early 90s. Anyway, Metallica was already a huge band back before they got even bigger with The Black Album. Pretty much their entire 80s discography is hailed as classic albums. Ride The Lightning and Master Of Puppets in particular are hailed as their best albums, but again, it depends on who you talk to.

A lot of people consider The Black Album to be the album, or at least one of them, that got them into metal, and after listening to this thing, I get why. I didn’t want this album to be my starting point, that was actually Master Of Puppets, but I wanted to get this album, eventually, because if anything, I wanted to listen to their earlier thrash-inspired records, versus their more mainstream-friendly sound. Not to mention, too, this would be the most “basic” Metallica album that I could start off with. That’s not to say it’s bad, or that I shouldn’t listen to it, but this is about as basic as you could get. The thing about that, however, is that, yeah, this is a good gateway album. I think that’s the best way to put this, though – it’s a gateway album. This LP is surprisingly good, even honestly kind of great, but that’s mainly for what it is. Most people know the song “Enter Sandman,” and that song kicks ass, but at its core, the song (as well as the album) is rather basic heavy metal. They lost the experimentation, thrash-influenced, and “heavier” sound that they had on their early work, and that’s why a lot of diehard fans thought they sold out at the time. I mean, I guess you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, because if I had started off with this LP, I’d be like, “What’s the hype behind these guys? This isn’t really anything outright amazing or legendary,” and it’s not, but with the direction I did, I’ve already heard some of their best albums, if not their best, so I’m kind of like, “Yeah, this is cool, but I’d rather listen to Master Of Puppets again.” That’s sort of how I feel when I listen to this, but I do like it. It’s a very good record, and again, it’s mainly for what it is. This thing isn’t trying to be brutal, aggressive, or thrash-inspired. It’s more accessible, easy to digest, and basic heavy metal, but if that’s what you’re looking for, yeah, it’s totally fine. It’s not a bad album at all. Now I’ll admit that this LP is a bit long, around 62 minutes, and because of how basic it is, it gets really exhausting and repetitive after awhile, but that’s kind of a nitpick.

Would I consider The Black Album to be my favorite Metallica album? No, not really. In terms of what I’ve heard, which includes this, plus Kill ‘Em All, Ride The Lightning, Master Of Puppets, 1988’s …And Justice For All, as well as their newest LP, 2016’s Hardwired… To Self-Destruct (which, for the record, isn’t that bad). Their newest album is definitely my least favorite, but that’s kind of unfair, because the great stuff is really, really great. This LP would be next, but it’s not because it’s bad. Hardwired isn’t even that bad, either, but it’s not great. This one, well, I’d say is a great album, but it depends on what you’re looking for, and what your tastes are. This is a good gateway album to get into metal, period, not necessarily thrash metal. This album isn’t thrash, and it’s not because they sold out, or anything like that, that’s just not what it is. This album is basic in tone, which is fine, but if you’re looking for a gateway album into thrash, I’d recommend Ride The Lightning or Master Of Puppets, which are my two favorite albums, personally. This album is really good, though, and I’m glad I finally heard it. The Black Album is one of those albums are almost every metalhead has heard, and I don’t know why I haven’t picked it up sooner. I guess I just wanted to be cool, and pick up their earlier stuff, but this thing is worth a listen. If you’re not into metal, but you want a good place to start, this album is perfect for that. Is this a perfect album? No, because vocalist James Hetfield isn’t technically that great of a singer (that’s why I prefer his voice over the more thrash-influenced material), and the album is a bit long, meandering, and exhausting, but it’s a fine album. I don’t have any real complaints, per se, because it’s not like the album’s bad. I’ve been playing it every now and again throughout the last week, and some odd days, because it’s a good record. It’s a solid metal album that does what it does well, and depending on what you’re looking for, that’ll work perfectly.

#metallica #the black album #james hetfield #enter sandman #ride the lightning #kill 'em all #master of puppets #and justice for all #thrash metal #slayer #anthrax #megadeth #the big four

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savetheinformanrarites · 4 years

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Reissue Liner Notes

J Murph & Lou – J Murph & Lou – Photo by Monica Dtc

Bug is the third and final pearl in the string of albums released by the original formation of Dinosaur Jr. The music here shows the band moving into ever more orderly realms of composition and structure, even as anecdotal evidence suggests that they were coming apart at their physical seams.

After the release of Bug, Dinosaur changed their name to Dinosaur Jr, due to the protests of a band of San Francisco ballroom-era leftovers. This seemed incredibly stupid at the time, but now it is possible to see as both a remark (by the hippies) that the band was starting to become known, as well as one by the band that they didn’t give a fuck. It was in this time that people truly began to appreciate the power of the songs that had always lurked inside the band’s sonic cataclysm. Live shows of the period were incredible. They harnessed a very special kind of aggression like no one els,e and the emotional turmoil inside the band frequently erupted into something cathartic and Brobdingnagian. J had moved to New York City, and there was a new sense of disconnect within the band. Lou was doing his own recordings for Homestead, Murph was playing more aggressively than ever, and J was kinda doing his own thing. Without any songwriting input from Barlow, the material for Bug was scripted entirely by Mascis, and when it was time to record the stuff, J had very specific ideas about how everyone’s part should be played. If the band prior to this had been operating in at least a faux-democratic way, that pretense was now shucked. It was, it seemed, J’s band. And this knowledge (both within and without the group) loaded some of their live shows with a particularly furious edge.

There might be true havoc on stage, now and then, as J and Lou’s antipathy towards each other increased, but more often this negative gush was channeled into an orgy of magnificent meat music. The trio’s roar – one that had initially seemed impossible to contain or control — began to assume a comprehendible shape in front of an audience that was familiar with the material (from the records) and attuned to its details. Not all their live shows were perfect, but there were lots of great ones, and their first trip to Europe in late ’87, brought them before a group of people who were both delighted and mystified by their utterly American combination of explosions and mopery. The British press fawned over them (in their own tongue-in-ass fashion), but Dinosaur Jr’s true impact was on the audiences, who were absolutely ready for the stylistic shift into post-core non-ironic-rock that the band’s music suggested. Indeed, it is postulated that a whole generation of British “shoegazer” bands sprang up as a reaction to that first visit. Even if this is hyperbole, it is undeniable that Dinosaur Jr were offering a way out of the noise morass for certain group of misfits.

Their songs were complex in a way that seemed both simple and intuitive, their lyrics were sad and reflective without appearing obnoxiously introspective. These were graspable creative tenets, so it made sense that they would be aped. And aped they were. The band’s profile on the American scene was growing exponentially at the same time. This had been something in the making for a while, but their popularity was blown wide open by Bug, and its accompanying single, “Freak Scene” — a classic slab by any known yardstick.

Robert Pollard (of Guided By Voices) remembers, “I bought their first album when it came out and I couldn’t figure out what the fuck it was. I couldn’t tell if they were nerds or goth heads or what. I thought they looked cool, but I couldn’t figure out what time period they were about. That first album was mesmerizing, but it was so strange. The picture with the sun on the cover just confused me. The music was recorded real lo-fi, but they didn’t fit into anything that was going on. When you listened to it, you might think parts of it were from the late ‘60s or early ‘70s. I mean, what was it? Sort of a dark psych metal but with punk roots.

“The band’s whole approach reminded me of something our band was doing a little later, because they were burying strong melodies inside of this total sonic attack. There was almost something sinister underlying everything, but it was beautiful, too. There was always something hidden inside their songs. When I thought my lyrics were corny, we would use tape hiss to cover up the sentiments and fuck things up. It seemed like they were trying to fuck up their music by the craziness of their attack,

“And each of their albums just got better and better. They really are one of the few bands that, to this day, I get out all of their early catalogue and listen to them all in a row, all the way through. I still do that every so often. The amazing thing about their songs is that even though they were all sonically heavy, almost every one of them has the ability to give me a chill. The first songs on their albums were always great. Like ‘Forget the Swan.’ That may be my favorite. But they had so many great ones – ‘Little Fury Things, ‘Budge’ – they’re all great. I even like ‘Poledo’! (laughs) That one actually sounded more like the way we were doing things then. But my favorite album is definitely Bug. They were so solid musically by that time, and every song on it is good.

“It was also around that time that I saw them play in Cincinnati. I saw them with Murph and Lou one weekend at this club that had all the heavy bands right then, like Big Chief and Nirvana. They were really loud, and J was such a great guitar player — one of the best in the world. I just loved that band.”

As they rolled on, there was no lack of people who’d second Pollard’s sentiments. “Freak Scene” became one of the great college rock anthems of ’88. A beautiful blend of confusion, neo-folkie yearning and guitar belligerence, the songs still slays. But there’s so much great stuff on Bug. One of my personal faves is “Don’t,” which is like a perfect post-core version of a track from the Stooges’ Funhouse. Repeat-o sludge riffs up the wazoo, absolutely raunched guitar textures, and bellered vocals (which J, perversely, had Lou sing) that ask a perplexingly simple question, “Why don’t you like me?” What could be better?

Well, one thing that could have been better, one presumed, was morale inside the band. They didn’t last all that long after the completion of Bug and the tours to support it. Dinosaur Jr continued in name for a good while, and they released some great records. But there is something totally organic and beautiful about the first three albums. They represent a creative arc that begins with teenage hardcore sput and ends with the dream of guitar heroism. And its an arc that many followed, but one this trio defined. Once and for all. Over and out. Amen.

–Byron Coley Deerfield ma 2004

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racingtoaredlight · 4 years

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Marshall Amps

This is Slayer’s backdrop for some recent tour of theirs.

If you’ve followed rock music at all, the “wall of Marshalls” is so iconic, it’s hard to separate the subject of the imagery from the backdrop of Marshall speakers. Jimmy Page, Slash, Zakk Wylde, Eric Clapton...to name a few...but the man who made Marshalls the “greatest amps of all time” is none other than you know who...

So what is it with Marshalls? Why did they become the “greatest amps of all time” yet seemingly don’t have a place in today’s guitar world?

***

What defines Marshall amps?

They have “Marshall” written on them.

Kidding aside, you will never hear about Marshall amps being called “versatile.” “Clean” is something they do out of necessity, not design. They are stupidly heavy. They are a pain in the ass to maintain. They only sound good at volumes that would peel the enamel off your teeth...and that’s just the 50w models, let alone the big boys.

Marshall amps really do one thing well...overdrive. If you’re in a band that plays loud, plays dirty and plays aggressive, then Marshalls are likely right in your wheelhouse. Bonus points if someone else is carrying your gear.

Any level of dirt...from bluesy hair on the note to full out metal grind...a Marshall is right at home. When you overdrive the tubes in a Marshall and they start to produce those beautiful overtones and harmonics, it’s truly a sound of beauty that prickles the hair on the back of your neck.

***

Historical Context Part 1

To define Marshall amps, we need to start with their history.

Remember how when I used to actually write, I’d talk about putting things in historical context? Lets go back to the early 60′s. There is ONE amp company doing business on both sides of the Atlantic, Fender. And, despite being primitive and archaic, those early Tweed Fender amps are still today some of the best sounding amps money can buy, which is even more impressive considering that a 10 year old who can use a soldering iron could build one.

But in America, it’s easy to source parts for an American company’s amp like Fender. It’s right there in the country, stupid. But for a company...shit, that’s not even accurate given they weren’t a company yet...for a Brit like Jim Marshall, you had to get creative.

Marshalls, at their very, foundational core, are almost a direct plagiarism of the Fender Bassman amp. I mean, it’s exactly the same amplifier except for one key difference...the tubes. The Atlantic Ocean thing mentioned earlier is a big deal...the 6v6 and 6L6 power tubes that Leo Fender used, nothing more than run of the mill military-spec electrical tubes, weren’t available. Tubes might not be the lifeblood of an amp (the circuit is), but different tubes have a hugely variable presence in practical settings.

Given that most tube amps are powered by tubes that came from either the US, UK or Russian military industrial complexes...and there not being the internet or a secondary market for any of this shit...Marshall used, first, KT66 Russian tubes, and later British EL34 (big bottles) and EL84 (little bottles), depending on use.

As Marshall’s blew up (and it happened quickly), and musicians started playing bigger and bigger halls, Marshall took that Bassman ripoff and housed it in larger cabinets allowing him to add more tubes, and therefore, more power. It was the perfect storm...

***

Historical Context Part II...the important stuff

So I linked to a bunch of pics above...famous dudes standing in front of walls of Marshalls. The one I really want to hit on is the Eric Clapton one...

I just mentioned this a couple paragraphs above, but it bears repeating...there was no secondary market for things like tubes, caps, speakers, etc. That pic of Clapton? In each of those cabinets housing four speakers, maybe one was fully operational with half of another adding a bunch of fizz. During Cream’s final show at Royal Albert Hall, he had only one speaker installed in the entire cabinet...the rest were just empty.

Now, that’s not to say there wasn’t any sonic benefit from having cabinets project sound waves with four speakers. Rather, if one went down, at least you could still play.

Which leads us to the important stuff...

Primitive PA systems were not only garbage to begin with, but they were typically operated by burnouts who didn’t have the first clue of how to properly EQ a room. This was true as late as the mid 80′s. As shitty as those PA systems were though, guess what? That’s still how Cream’s sound got shot through Royal Albert Hall.

Given the choice though, guitarists would rather have a slew of speakers doing the work rather than mic’ing up smaller amps. Even with this option though, there’s a long history of...behind those walls of Marshall speaker cabs...there being a single half stack with just one speaker being mic’d.

Here’s a dirty little secret...Eddie Van Halen has not just endorsed multiple amps from multiple companies, but been heavily involved in the design of a lot of those as well. BUT, when you hear him in the studio or live, you’re not hearing any of those amps...you’re hearing this.

Despite all the noise and propaganda regarding Van Halen’s wizardry with guitar and amp parts, the sound he’s most famous for and has relied on his entire career is produced by a relatively stock Marshall 1959SLP, known as the Super Lead. The “Brown Tone” he’s famous for isn’t due to anything special in the amp itself, rather using something called the Variax to run the 100w amp at 90w, thereby making it warmer and more efficient (Marshall’s imported to the US still made to run at 110 volts despite most American outlets being 120 volts...the Variax reduced the electrical load to the amp, while also being an accidental signal buffer, allowing him to use time-based effects like flangers and delays, where running them into the front of a Marshall would cancel out those signals).

Jesus Christ that was a long aside...there was a point here though.

***

What was that point?

When PA systems and quality mic’s and sound guys became the norm, the necessity for stacks of Marshalls really started to go to shit. Even before the internet boom, the jokes about wannabes hauling Marshall half stacks to tiny bars with no audience were already essentially canon.

I said this above...unless you are a touring artist in a hard rock band with logistical support and no front of house...Marshalls are completely impractical. We’re not even going to touch on declines in quality (new Marshalls built on PCB have more in common with your phone than a 1987x, even if you buy a “reissue” of a 1987x), questionable marketing and oversaturating their own market...the fact of the matter is extremely simple. Big iron is obsolete, no matter who makes it.

Marshall themselves know this, and released the “studio” line...which might as well be called the “shit we better make smaller stuff because our sales are getting FUCKED” line. If you’ve ever had to pack a car full of gear yourself, it takes one gig before you’re looking for smaller, lighter amps. Those 100w Marshalls? They sound AMAZING cranked.

But unless you play them cranked, they sound like shit. Think about it like driving a Ferrari at 25mph all the time...

For regular working musicians like myself, a great sounding tube combo can be found under 50 lbs. Or I could ditch all that and go with a modeler, go straight into the PA and never need an amp again (PREDICTION...you will not see amplifiers on stage outside of Nashville and niche acts in 10 years). That’s for a working musician.

For a touring musician, you can save tens of thousands of dollars per year by not having to hire logistical staff. You might have scoffed at my prediction above...but these days, the majority of guitar sounds you hear are made digitally by a session guitarist sitting either at home or in the control room of a studio. That 1987x is a digital patch rather than two trips to the car and ringing ears.

Point being...amps are already obsolete. And if your amp weighs more than 50 lbs. and has more power than say 40w, it’s remarkably obsolete, no matter how cool it is.

***

Competition

I don’t have to tell you that Marshalls’ legacy was formed in the harder forms of rock. Take one look at those monsters and you can tell they roar. “Roar” is an interesting concept though...

youtube

Marshalls were made before hard rock really existed. Guitarists almost ubiquitously came from a “clean” learning point, and even what we consider small amounts of dirt like this (and during the instrumental part of Ramblin’ Man) back then were FULL-THROATED.

Personally, that’s my ideal of the Marshall sound. That Tweedy breakup that puts a shaggy head of hair on each note. But to just about 90% of the music-enjoying public, this is the sound that immediately comes to mind when you think of Marshalls.

youtube

Definitely more dirty than Duane Allman’s version no doubt, but if you really listen to the guitar, the edge is more due to phrasing and Slash’s ballsy attitude than the guitar tone itself. It’s still something I’d describe as more crunchy than full on distorted.

Which brings us to the clones. Now, what better product to copy than a style that’s been obsolete for like two decades now!

We talked about Van Halen’s supposedly modded (but really quite stock) Marshall above...well, here comes one of his amp tech buddies Michael Soldano bringing a hot-rodded Marshall to the masses. Then Bogner follows right behind.

Slash’s tone might not be that distorted, but plenty of metal guys absolutely were, and Marshall JCM’s were their weapon of choice. But the time the calendar turned to 1990 though, Mesa Boogie’s rectifiers were already kings of the metal scene. Almost as much as the Telecaster dominates country music, the Mesa Boogie Rectifiers own metal.

What was the common denominator in the competition? MORE, sure. More dirt, more quality, blah blah blah. The biggest reason was Marshall, the company. Unlike Fender, Marshall never got bought by bigger companies. While that might keep them more “genuine” you have to realize that this guy was making amps in a tiny drum shop still when he was making stuff for Hendrix and Pete Townshend.

***

While Fender’s soul got twisted in a series of corporate takeovers, what it also eventually received was outside guidance from people with business AND music knowledge. Fender was always forward thinking, from the day Leo Fender started the company. Jim Marshall didn’t have that same type of vision. The idea of a Fender amp being built on PCB is something Leo Fender would have embraced. But to Marshall, it’s killing the amp’s soul. Fenders never were BIG IRON...i.e. huge transformers fed by big bottle tubes...they never got into the size game.

To begin with, Marshalls were a stolen design. That might sound harsh, but it’s not being unfair either. They were never known for quality, rather known for quirks and unreliability. They weren’t even that unique of a sound...you can get a very similar sound from a Fender Tweed cranked...you just cant take a Tweed to a huge hall and project the sound.

We can do that today. Easily. Like an $80 mic and a mic cable easy. And now you have a true, pretty much genuine Marshall roar in a 30 lb. package.

Back in the day you couldn’t demand flawless point-to-point wiring, proper voltage and ohm specs, and wide-sweeping EQ bands. Soldano and Mesa Boogie offered these as stock parts of their offerings at the same price points. If you were a lead guy, Soldano was your choice...if you were a metal guy, it was Mesa...and in the two niches of the guitar world Marshall absolutely dominated, they were now second class citizens.

Or maybe even worse...new poor.

***

“Marshall” is a descriptor these days. It’s describing the sound of a tube amp with a good-sized transformer being fed by British tubes, typically EL34′s.

If you want a “Marshall,” Marshall is probably the fourth or fifth company I’d recommend. There’s a lot of debate about this, but I do not believe amps built on PCB are worth more than $1k...shit, that’s generous because I would not personally buy an amplifier using PCB.

This is the power amp section for a new Marshall JCM.

For all you IT guys out there, you probably know that PCB ain’t exactly the most receptive thing to changes in temperature. Hey! I got a great idea! Lets put power and preamp tubes, that heat the fuck up, straight on some cheap ass PCB with janky copper wiring and automated solders!

Literally the only people who will tell you PCB is fine are people who build amps for a living. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t give a shit about making your job easier when you’re still charging me full price and plus some. The only people saying that there’s no reason to do a point-to-point amp are those who are too lazy to, because there’s a big boutique market for this very thing.

Lets do a real apples to apples comparison here...

The top pic is a restored 1972 Marshall 1987x. You can buy these used for under $2k...but let’s use $2k...plus $200 restoration (just the guts, who cares about how an amp looks). We’re at $2,200. And this electric shit is so simple a vacuum repair shop could do it.

The bottom pic is a brand spakin’ new Marshall 1987x reissue, modeled after...you guessed it...the 1972 Marshall 1987x. That’s some clean wiring on that particle board! But...wait...why am I paying MORE for a less desirable model, that took exponentially less work on Marshall’s end? Why would I subsidize their profit margins for an inferior product with less resale value?

Furthermore...the 1987x is a one-channel, stupid simple amp. Why do you need PCB to begin with? I get it for a Soldano or Rectifier that’s multi-channel, with huge sweeping EQ sections, reverb, etc...but this is a plug-n-play.

Marshall...the company...has been doing that to their customer base for decades. Back in the day, you knew what you were getting...a thunderous machine that likely would fail at some point, necessitating multiple amp purchases. Literally the instant better, higher quality alternatives hit the market, it ripped into Marshall’s market share.

Today, if I were recommending a Marshall, the first place I’d recommend is George Metropoluos. Second would be Friedman. I’m currently deeply in love with a Friedman amp that’s a single-channel, point-to-point 40w amp that’s essentially a Tweed Bassman with EL84′s and a switchable gain stage...adorably named the Dirty Shirley.

***

Conclusion

Despite all that, I have a romantic love of Marshalls that overrides anything to do with quality or practicality. It’s kind of like my love for the Gibson Les Paul grotesquely compounded...

You might think that I have a negative opinion of Marshalls based on everything I’ve just written. Not true. All of that stuff, it’s nothing in comparison to just how fucking incredible these things sound in person. Again, neither of these instruments are in my wheelhouse, but if you asked me what the platonic ideal sound an electric guitar makes, it’d be a Les Paul through a cranked Marshall 1987x.

And even if you’re not into this kinda shit, trust me you’ve heard more than your fair share of Marshalls in the past. They’re that great. So great, it doesn’t matter how shitty they may or may not be.

PS...I wrote this in 3 different sessions, didn’t edit or re-read, and just posted away because something is better than nothing.

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