#hey phil read this

[goldenpinof]

Did Dan piss those promoters off or something? Why do things always go wrong? At this point it has to be intentional satogatage bc there's no way they're this incompetent and still have jobs /hj

oh, sweet summer child, people can be incompetent and still have their jobs. it all depends on top managers' and CEO's priorities and who these incompetent people work with. (irl merch included. not sending orders and then not replying to emails for weeks is incompetence. but i don't think Martyn or dnp care. and i can't do anything because i'm outside the UK. lucky them.)

rant about Dan's promoters incoming...

i'd honestly try to sue AEG if i were Dan. or fine them, some contracts provide for fines. it's IMPOSSIBLE to work like that. if these 2 shows end up with dozens of empty seats because of this stupid system AXS has on their website, it WILL damage Dan's business. not financially because the seats are paid for, but on tape isn't gonna look horrendous, and will need extra editing (-> extra time -> extra expenses, probably, allegedly). this situation is worse than what we had during the whole 2022/2023 tour. i'm honestly impressed with how they managed to make the actual tour look "not that bad" compared to today. we thought Oxford/Cambridge situation was bad? Iceland? Auckland? Amsterdam? added and cancelled shows? oh no, no, no. fucking up ticket sales for the most important shows – peak AEG's clownery. making the system so scammy that it drops the back rows 1st and makes people think that everything else is sold out – the peakest of peaks. and idk what can be a cherry on top here. people have spare tickets on their hands right now, not because they wanted to resell them, but because they bought the back rows and then 3 hours later the front rows were magically on sale and people, understandably, bought them as well. as i'm typing this the tickets for both shows are still available (STALLS, rows I and L for Saturday and Sunday respectively). and with how it goes now, there will be tickets available on the venue's website on Wednesday.

idk what should be done to fix it. and how long Dan's emails to AEG should be. this is not how things should work after the whole tour aka experience and fuck ups. you're half-joking, anon, hi <3 but idk what's there to joke about. only screaming, crying, throwing up. and not in a good way. it does look like sabotage, you're right. it looks like no one fucking cares about simple things. like they didn't need to create this complex system to sell tickets, and yet they did.

@danielhowell i know you're not here, but i ain't writing essays on twitter.

[dnalt-d2]

Hate to be the bearer of bad news but the reason crows are disabled is for a quite meta reason rather then lore unfortunately, they cause major lag on the server ^^'

I would assume likely because they move around so much when picking up items

But still, I hope someday they can be brought back!! Or perhaps there's a crow mod out there that causes less server lag

(In reference to this post)

Welp, can't win them all

Damn inventory-having mobs lol

Guess FTC can stand for two things now

[unproduciblesmackdown]

more info, via a couple of reviews:

"Is this the best, most exhilarating, most close-to-perpetual dancing ever to grace the Goodspeed Opera House stage?

It certainly could be.

The new stage adaptation of “Summer Stock” at the East Haddam theater has plenty to recommend it in terms of the canny script and the hummable songs. But it’s the dancing that leaves the biggest impression.

The show is jam-packed with choreography from Donna Feore, who also directs, that is thrillingly executed by the cast.

We’re talking: Gravity-defying kicks. Head-spinning turns. Male dancers lifting and tossing and catching the female ones. It runs the gamut from Cossack-dance athleticism to soft shoe grace, tap precision to Lindy hop energy.

How the cast manages to sing after executing these (literally) breathtaking numbers, I have no idea.

And how do they make it through two performances on some days? Amazing.

Also amazing: the fact that they do all this on Goodspeed’s small stage without making the space feel cramped.

So, yes, the dancing is phenomenal. But there’s more to the show than that.

This stage version of “Summer Stock” — which is enjoying its world premiere at Goodspeed — is inspired by the 1950 MGM movie starring Judy Garland and Gene Kelly. Writer Cheri Steinkellner, though, has reimagined the piece in many ways, making it better, stronger and propelled by a more modern sensibility. (Steinkellner’s writing credits range from “Cheers” to the Broadway adaptation of “Sister Act.”)

The foundational story, though, remains the same: A no-nonsense young woman named Jane is trying to save her family farm. Her actress sister (named Gloria in the version at Goodspeed) brings her compatriots to the farm to rehearse a show. Jane first spars with and then starts falling for Gloria’s beau Joe, the production’s director.

Steinkellner has also changed up the score, to great effect. While some tunes from the movie remain, she has pulled others that are in the public domain (such as “Accentuate the Positive,” “Paper Moon” and “It Had to Be You”), and she has woven them perfectly into various plot points and important emotional moments.

As director, Feore makes sure the whole enterprise has a dynamic spirit. It’s a story and a production that brims with optimism and cheerfulness.

Leading the cast is Corbin Bleu, who became famous with his work in “High School Musical” and has gone on to star in several Broadway shows, as Joe. Bleu is a true, and truly talented, triple-threat. He has a warm, welcoming presence as an actor; he also brings an authority to Joe so you believe he’s someone the actors respect and will follow. Bleu’s singing is strong and lustrous, and his dancing — particularly his tremendous tap ability — is … wow.

Arguably the biggest scene-stealer here is Veanne Cox, as the wealthy, snooty owner of huge property surrounding Jane’s. The way she trills dialogue can turn anything into a punchline. She can wave her arms about as her character repeats “l’amour” and generate audience laughs. When her character falls for the egoistic actor Montgomery Leach (played by J. Anthony Crane with Barrymore flair), Cox burbles with girlish romantic giddiness.

Danielle Wade does her own take on the Judy Garland role. She gives Jane a swagger and a tough façade that reveals a more human self during the course of the story. Wade’s most important feature is her voice, which is potent whether she’s finessing a ballad or powering through a big number. While she can’t compete with Garland’s renowned version of “Get Happy” (who could?), Wade does a good job in the number — choreographed and costumed in an homage to the original — that serves as the culmination of the production.

Arianna Rosario gets to play an interesting arc at Gloria. At first, Gloria seems to be a blithe, self-centered actress, but she later shows that she is quite the problem-solving producer. Rosario makes the transformation believable, as if Gloria is finally letting her real self come through.

The scenic design by Wilson Chin suggests the various elements of a Connecticut River Valley farm in the 1950s while still allowing room for the cast to burst into all of those big dance numbers. And the costume design by Tina McCartney provides a fun and functional take on country clothing of the era.

I will say that the second act could be tightened up (we don’t need to see so many beats of the rehearsal process), but, in total, this “Summer Stock” is sensational." [source]

(hooray for most directly explaining gloria's overall arc)

and the next review:

"A throwback to the golden age of Broadway and movie musicals, "Summer Stock" is a timeless, inspiring song-and-dance tale of good deeds, fairy tale showbiz, classic romance and backstage intrigue played out to such dazzling effect, you want to freeze frame it, take it home with you and watch it over and over again for pure fun and a let's-put-a-smile-on-your-face endorsement. This is Goodspeed Musicals at its best - old-fashioned musical entertainment designed to deliver by the bucket's load, stir the senses, rhythmically intoxicate you and dance up a continual storm of good cheer that's guaranteed to leave you breathless.

Animated. Airborne. Magical. Sweet-natured. Fresh-faced. Dance happy. It's all here, wrapped up in shiny gold ribbons and signature colors that complement and complete the picture with a technicolor flourish, a big bang and an internal logic that flows with appropriate style, stamina, full command and intent.

Adapted to the stage by Cheri Steinkellner, "Summer Stock" replays that popular let's- put-on-a-show conceit where everything rests of the big opening night, the box-office intake, the big kiss between the leading man and the leading lady and how a complete unknown saves the day right before the final fadeout. Here, struggling Connecticut farmer Jane Falbury decides to let her actress sister Abigail and her actor friends from New York use the family barn as a rehearsal space for their brand-new Broadway bound musical in exchange for doing the daily farm chores to raise enough money to keep the business from going completely under. One slight problem. During rehearsals, Jane finds herself falling for the show's handsome director, Joe Ross, who, happens to be engaged to the show's leading lady - her sister Abigail.

Staging "Summer Stock," director Donna Feore ("Chicago," "Billy Elliot," "A Chorus Line"), who doubles as choreographer, creates a loveable, intoxicating show that reels you in, grabs hold of you until the final curtain and lets you fall in love with every little detail, surprise, plot twist, joke, visual gag, one-liner and tilt of her jolly agenda while she articulates every element of this musical story with thrust, warmth, spin and splendid articulation. Directorially, she pulls it off spectacularly. No wrong moves here as "Summer Stock" catches fire with a spark, a gusto, a shine and a 1950s mentality infused with plenty of imagination, originality, style and flair.  More importantly, the production never loses sight of its origins, its functional plotting and its love of musicals of yesteryear despite well-intentioned doses of kitsch, takeaway humor, giddy backchat and story arcs right out of the MGM library of backlot moviemaking.  Feore, free spirit that she is, fuels the musical with a sharpened wit and sentiment that works especially well as does her decision to let "Summer Stock" remain rooted in the period from whence it came in terms of staging, development, expression and interaction. 

Moving from screen to stage," "Summer Stock" retains only four songs from the 1950 MGM musical. The addition of several new songs to the original version of the score turns the two-act musical into more of a showstopping event and adds clarity, luster and vintage spin to its already proven material, its let's launch into another song and dance routine blueprint and its firm grasp on characterization, story evolution and its happily ever after conclusion. At Goodspeed, there are 28 important, recognizable, smartly placed musical numbers. They are:  "Get Happy," "Happy Days Are Here Again/I Want to Be Happy," "Accentuate the Positive," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," "Always," "Always (reprise)," "It's Only a Paper Moon," "The Best Things in Life Are Free," "Dig for Your Dinner," "Me and My Shadow," "Howdy Neighbor, Happy Harvest," "Red Hot Mama," " 'Til We Meet Again," "You Wonderful You," "June Night," "Some of These Days," "Joe's Dance," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows (reprise)," "It All Depends on You," "Always (reprise)," "Everybody Step," "Lucky Day," "How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm," "Hinky-Dinky Parlez Vouz," "It Had to Be You," "Get Happy (reprise)" and "You Wonderful You (Finale)."

Musical director Adam Souza ("42nd Street," "Cabaret," "Next to Normal," "A Grand Night for Singing," "Because of Winn Dixie," "Rags") grabs hold of the "Summer Stock" score and allows it to breathe, gesticulate, excite, envelop and rhapsodize with the golden age sentimentality of MGM movie musicals and the timeless, larger-than-life spirit of old Broadway. Here, every song matters. Every song is important. Every song travels down memory lane. Every song is tuned to the max with sweet, centered, warm-heartedness. Every song fulfills its intended purpose. All of this is complemented by the strong, flavorful sound of Souza's orchestral team, all of whom share his tremendous sense of theatricality, musical interlude, impassioned communication and delight of the actual musical itself.  They are: David Uhl (bass), Sal Ranniello (percussion), Liz Baker Smith (reed 1), Andrew Studenski (reed II), Travis Higgins III (trumpet) and Matthew Russo (trombone). As with other Goodspeed musicals, Souza doubles as conductor and keyboardist. As "Summer Stock" zings and pops, pretty music every song unfolds with a contagious orchestral musical glow, matched by the splendid musicality of the entire cast who address the catchy, homespun music and lyrics with perfect harmony, rhythm, phrasing and nostalgic commitment. These elements heighten the on-stage mode of the production, its progression from Act I to Act II, its send offs, its pastiche and its electrifying, barn-raising influence and thwack.

As with any big stage musical, choreography is key to a production's success, its fluidity of form, its artistic expression and its accompanying dance routines. Here, Feore, as choreographer, gives "Summer Stock" a highly personal touch of invigoration and speedy excitement that is tipped and generated with wonderfully elongated inspiration, stamina and determination. This is star quality choreography that peaks, shines and tilts with clever build ups, catchy dance steps and bold, concentrated rhythms, moves and beats that joyfully celebrate 1950's musicals in all their technicolor glory.   As storyteller and dance interpreter, she brings great dimension and scope to the piece using techniques, styles, descriptions and an enriched canvas of thoughts and ideas that make their mark most engagingly. Everything that happens on the Goodspeed Musicals stage has been beautifully blocked, rehearsed and staged with such thrust and individuality, no two dance numbers are alike. In fact, once "Summer Stock" catches fire, there's no stopping it.  Creating a freshly minted fusion of moods, tableaus, lifts, twirls and swirls, Feore pays homage to the actual vintage look and mindset of the musical, its dance-friendly art form and its free-flowing feel of excitement and exhilaration. Hands pop. Arms move heavenward. Dancers smile and glisten as they passionately ignite into joyful visions of sweetness, passion, frenzy and syncopation. Everyone is lost in the moment illustrating the traditions, the conscience and the power of musical theatre, giving and getting the most out of Feore's phenomenal, ovation-worthy choreography. Trained, drilled and confident, they each get a chance to shine - and shine they do - all making strong impressions that will live long in memory.

Making his Goodspeed Musicals debut, Corbin Bleu, as Joe Ross, a character originated by Gene Kelly in the 1950 film version, creates a "Wow!" song-and-dance-man factor chock full of charm, personality, self-confidence and full-beam, champagne delightness that astounds, cajoles and sparkles with leading man gait and luxury like no other. No matter what he does, he's a proverbial triple-threat (i.e., a player who excels at acting, singing and dancing) who makes everything that happens on stage feel fresh, spontaneous, real, raw and very much in the moment. It's in his eyes. It's in his moves. It's in his expressions. Exhibiting a sweet, contagious rapport that extends far beyond the footlights, it's the performance of the year and one that Bleu exudes with a Gene Kelly/Fred Astaire aura of showbiz savvy, knockabout whimsy, graceful athleticism and sterling encapsulation. "Joe's Dance," a solo dance number in Act II performed by Bleu only furthers that notion.

In the role of Jane Falbury, a role made famous by Judy Garland in the original "Summer Stock" MGM musical, Danielle Wade lights up the Goodspeed Musicals stage with a breezy, intuitive musical comedy performance of real warmth and spirit that is a constant joy to watch. Veanne Cox, cast in the role of the wickedly devious Connecticut farming magnate Margaret Wingate, is jaw-dropping brilliant, using humor, music, dance and melodrama in divinely daft and glorious ways that prompt applause and laughter whenever she's in the limelight. It's a scene-stealing performance so seamlessly entrenched in glee and fiery abandon, Cox, would be the ideal choice to play narcissistic Broadway diva Dee Dee Allen in the 2024 summer presentation of "The Prom" at Playhouse in Park in West Hartford. I'll personally deliver the contract. Other memorable performances are delivered by Arianna Rosario (Gloria Falbury), Stephen Lee Anderson (Henry "Pop" Falbury), Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil Filmore), Will Roland (Orville Wingate) and J. Anthony Crane (Montgomery Leach). A musical escape brimming with delightful songs, engaging performances and full-beam dance numbers, "Summer Stock" is not only a bubbly tonic for theatergoers of all ages, but one that kicks nostalgia into high gear with uncomplicated bliss, fizz and vintage sparkle. It sings. It dances. It pops. It dazzles. Like "42nd Street" which played Goodspeed Musicals last season, it overflows with Kelly/Astaire lightness, punch and precision, sunny vibes and well-played exactitude. The energy displayed here is fast and furious with first-night exhilaration and thrill paired especially well with Corbin Bleu's charming star turn, Danielle Wade's joyous "Get Happy" abandon and Veanne Cox's well-prepped, icy cool villain. This is musical theatre of the highest order - infectious, irresistible, glorious. Its leave-your-troubles-at-the-door/Let's-put-on-a-show mentality accelerates with sparkle and cherry pie goodness. And boy, do we need it now!" [source]

(the reference to jane's sister abigail uses the film's names: abigail becomes gloria in this production, which is the name of abigail's actor in the film, which also mirrors how the role of herb is now phil, also the name of herb's actor in the film)

(also shoutout to providing A Full, Chronological List Of Songs. noting that according to another interview, intermission would be between "you wonderful you" and "june night")

[mbat]

anyone else still remember exactly how they got into everything they love though

[danhowellz]

your time starts now

summary: phil gets asked to go on the british tv show taskmaster and thus here is my interpretation of his first episode words: 2.3k

read on ao3!!

[halechief]

it is not enough to call claire bisexual i have to make sure you guys know in what way

[crepusculum-rattus]

i just think so much of cphil’s character is so terribly tragic in a way that cphil himself chooses to ignore so that he is able to get out of bed every morning. but also him ignoring it is what keeps him in the tragedy

[royalarchivist]

Phil: I should– probably shouldn't say this, but like, I'm gonna say it anyways because it makes me– makes me happy like, thinking about it. I have like, a whole origin story of my character like, planned out. And I don't know when I'm gonna get to share it with everyone, I don't know when I'm gonna get to share that. But like, I think about it almost daily now. [Laughs] I think about it almost daily. It's a problem. It's a problem. I need to start writing it down, 'cuz it's just- it's just swirling in my head, and I keep listening to the same songs that I think would go really well with it. They are heavily copyrighted, unfortunately. [Laughs] So... I'm like this close to pulling the trigger and commissioning some artists and animatic like, makers to just do it.

Phil: [Reading chat] "Ask Wolfy, and they'll just make you Minecraft Jesus." That's true, Wolfy is all about just making various different like, Jesus religion-related animations at the minute. So... if I wanted to become Jesus, I go to Wolfy. "Hey Wolfy mate, so I know you're a big fan of these guys, these old guys from the Bible and stuff, but what about– what about– [Laughs] What about me? Wanna do– wanna do another one? [Laughs] Wanna do a Creature 2?" But just like, super- super biblical– [Laughs]

Phil: What a crazy ask. Crazy sentence, crazy ask, Jesus Christ.

[philza-updates]

Phil posted an announcement in his Discord.

[Image ID:

A cropped screenshot of a Discord message by Ph1LzA. It reads “Hey guys @/everyone I’m sure many of you know Shelby (shubble) came forward about abuse she had suffered at the hands of Wilbur during their relationship. After watching her stream last week myself and Kristin immediately reached out in dm’s to show our support. As you can imagine I am deeply saddened by all this, I’m struggling even now to put this all into words, so I ask that you please support shelby and other victims and I will still do my best to make my streams a safe space for everyone. Believe victims. always.”

End ID]

[curryalley]

I need Clint Barton to meet Dick Grayson.

I need Clint to roll into a SHIELD ops assignment meeting having absolutely not read the briefing materials before the meeting. I need Phil Coulson to explain that there has been a serious threat against the life of Dick Grayson. Wayne Corp is about to announce some new initiatives. Intelligence confirms a criminal syndicate plans to kidnap Dick Grayson to force Bruce Wayne to call off the plans. SHIELD needs Wayne Corp to go through with it (and kidnapped sons of billionaires are always a headache) so Clint, we've created an identity for you as a Wayne Corp employee to keep an on things.

And Clint has to be like, "Yeah that won't work."

The analysts immediately take offense. "It's an airtight identity, you've done worse undercover work than babysitting a billionaire's kid."

Clint interrupts. "I can't pretend to be someone else around Dick Grayson. I know him. Me. Clint Barton. We were friends when we were kids."

Everyone at the meeting is losing it and Clint stares at them all. "How many circus kids do you think there are? Haley's and Carson's didn't tour together but our paths crossed in the offseason."

That explains why during his afternoon walk home, Dick Grayson comes across his childhood friend, Clint Barton, wearing jeans and a purple tank top, juggling and doing tricks for cash on the street. SHIELD has adjusted Clint Barton's identity so he's down on his luck, busking for spare change because it's hard to get a job when you're a deaf former circus performer with barely a GED.

Of course Dick wants to help and they reconnect. Dick asks Clint to perform at a Wayne gala. The same gala where the goons attempt to grab Dick Grayson. Dick keeps trying to slip out and change into Nightwing but? Somehow? Clint is always behind him? They're both trying to fight off the goons, still in their civvies, each trying to rescue each other while also not giving away their secret idecities,

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I used to be a cop. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Would you believe me if I said bar fights?"

When it's all over, there's some disagreement about who is walking who home but Clint insists since Dick was almost kidnapped. Clint gets into his Hawkeye gear and plans to spend the night watching Dick's building for trouble when he sees Nightwing go swinging away from it.

Naturally he follows. Nightwing is meeting with the bats to report on the kidnapping attempt when there's a wild bit of confusion and mistaken identity as one of the bats slams Hawkeye to the ground and demands to know why he's following Nightwing.

Clint's lying there partially stunned at being nearly splattered by one of the robins or something when Nightwing leans over him.

"Clint?"

"Hey, Dick."

Clint and Dick were already friends but that's the story of how Hawkeye meets Nightwing.

(In the sequel, Clint turns up outside Dick's apartment months later. He's wearing multiple bandages, drinking a coffee with the name on the cup horribly misspelled with a K and holding Lucky's leash. He looks at Dick and says, "The Tracksuit Mafia has moved to Bludhaven, you got any plans tonight?")

[goldenpinof]

we got a blowjob and a handjob joke in one video! and rimming, and docking! do you understand that? they are insane.

[oneforthemunny]

blue christmas |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a look at two very different christmases in eddie's life.

apart of munny's merriest masterlist which you can read here!

contains: sad!eddie. parent guilt. divorce. gina. mainly just very lonely christmas angst but some fluff at then end.

Fourteen Years Before

“Hey, have a good one, Munson!” Phil waved a gloved hand, locking the body shop for the night. “Have a Merry Christmas!” Even Christmas Eve held its fair share of wrecks, cars breaking down in the snow, plenty of business even on the holiday. 

“Yeah, you too!” Eddie waved back, hands shoved deep in his utility jacket, heavy and warm for the colder months. His hands fiddled around with the cigarette carton in his coat pocket, pulling out his keys with the cigarette, letting it hang from his lips as he slid into the truck. 

The roads were empty, cleared of any traffic on his way to his apartment. The twinkling lights in the yards, strung merrily and proudly for all to see mocked him, a dull reminder of what wasn’t waiting for him at home. 

Home. He used that term loosely. 

The apartments were cheap for a two bedroom, close to Brielle’s school and Eddie’s work. Gina had got the house in the divorce. Eddie didn’t want it, couldn’t afford it on his own after she’d cleared out what little he had. His thumb rubbed over his ring finger out of habit, meeting the calloused skin there instead of the gold band he wore for eight years. 

Eight years. Eight Christmases spent with Gina, with Brielle. They were far from perfect. He and Gina usually fought from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve, but at least he had a tree. At least it was decorated, and there were presents under the tree. 

At least he wasn’t alone. 

Eddie’s heart ached, a jabbing pain that spread through his chest, leaving his throat stinging with an uncomfortable burn. He knew the divorce was the right thing to do, when your seven year old asks Santa for her parents to stop fighting, it’s time. Still, he didn’t think it would hurt so badly, that it’d be this lonely.

That he’d miss it this badly. 

Maybe he should have toughed it out, should have ignored Gina so he wouldn’t be sitting here, in a pitifully empty apartment, in a deafening silence, nursing a beer on Christmas Eve. 

Eddie had put up a ‘tree’, a lighted spiral cone shape he found at a second hand store, after Brielle commented on his lack of decor. “You don’t like Christmas anymore?” 

She’d made him an ornament in art class, which he couldn’t hang on the spiraled lights of the tree, so he taped it on. She was happy with it regardless, grinning and telling him about how her art teacher let her make two. “Since you and mom are divorced.” Eddie’s stomach turned. There was something so sickening about hearing his little girl say those words in such a cheery tone. Made him feel like a complete sack of shit. 

Eddie looked at the clock on the stove, flashing bright, green numbers back at him. He worked later than expected, it was nearly eight, but knowing Brielle she was far from ready for bed- Santa's coming tonight. Eddie’s chest tightened at the thought- he was missing that. 

He grabbed the phone, punching in the numbers carefully, he knew them by heart. The phone rang, and rang. 

“Hello?” Gina’s huffy voice came over the other line. 

“Hey, Gina.” Eddie said awkwardly. “I, uh, I just got home. I was gonna talk to Brielle if she’s still up.” 

“Yeah, she’s still up.” Gina huffed, and he could practically see her eye roll, snarled lips. “You were supposed to call at seven.” 

“I know, I know. I just- I got busy at work. Had to stay overtime.” Eddie ran a hand down his face, knee bouncing. 

“Great. She’s gonna be even more wild now. She’s already losing her damn mind- Brielle, get out of your stocking or I’m throwing it away!” Gina pulled the phone away, shrilling. Eddie’s lips curled, hearing the cackle in the background, she was his daughter. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Eddie started. 

“-Just, whatever. Don’t get her fucking wild, Eddie, I swear to God.” Gina snapped. The phone rustled. “Here.” Gina’s voice was muffled, before the phone settled. 

“Hello?” The little chirp on the other end had Eddie’s heart swelling. 

“Hi, Munchkin.” Eddie grinned softly, voice lilting higher. “Merry Christmas.” 

“It’s Daddy!” Brielle shrilled. “Hi, Daddy. Merry Christmas.” 

“Are you still up?” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re supposed to be asleep. Santa’s coming soon, Brie.” 

“I’ll sleep in a little bit.” Brielle huffed lightly, she sounded like her mother. “When are you comin’ home? I saved you one of the Snowman cookies before Santa eats them, and I have reindeer food to put on the roof. It has glitter in it this time so they can see better.” 

Eddie paused, words choked around the lump in his throat, heart sinking low into the pit of his stomach. 

“Daddy?” Brielle asked, pulling the phone back. “I think it got undone-” 

“-No, no, I’m here, Brielle.” Eddie’s voice was tight, hand pressed into his eyes. “Um, I-I’m not coming home tonight, remember?” A ragged breath shook out of his chest, and he hoped she didn’t hear it. “I’m coming to get you tomorrow afternoon, and we’re going to Grandpa’s.” 

“Oh,” Brielle’s tiny voice was filled with disappointment, it tore Eddie’s heart right out of his chest. “Even on Christmas?” 

“Yeah, baby. Even on Christmas. Remember me and mom told you, you’d get two Christmases. One with each of us.” Eddie tried to keep his voice steady. 

“But not together?” Brielle muttered, a complete turn around from her previous excited tone. 

“No, not together. I’m sorry, Brie.” Eddie pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath in to keep his emotions in. 

“That’s ok.” Her tone told him otherwise. 

“But I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? And you can tell me all about what Santa brought you, and then we’ll go to Grandpa’s and you’ll have even more gifts to open.” Eddie hoped his tone was convincing. 

“Ok.” Brielle muttered sadly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daddy.” 

“Yeah, you will, I promise.” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, nose burning with tears. “Good night, Brie. Dream of those sugar plums, alright? Love you.” 

“G'night. Love you.” Brielle repeated solemnly. 

The phone rattled for a moment, Eddie clearing his throat lightly. The line settled for a moment and he waited for Gina’s voice. A harsh dial tone came instead. 

Eddie tried to ignore the hurt that pounded in his chest. He felt grimy, gross, and disappointed in himself. He felt alone, most of all. 

Shaky fingers punched the buttons on the phone, knee bouncing as he lit a cigarette, pulling the ashtray closer to him on the kitchen table. “Hello?” Steve Harrington’s accommodating tone came through the line, a loud screech of children’s laughter in the background. 

“Hey, Steve.” Eddie cringed at the shake in his tone, swallowing. “Sorry to bother you, I, uh, I just wanted to-” 

“-Daddy! One present, please?” 

“Yeah! Just one! One!”

“Hang on,” Steve huffed. “No, ok? Mom said no, and you know she’s the boss. You better stop, alright? It’s not too late to get on Santa’s bad list. I’ll call him right now and tell him to skip the Harrington residence-” 

“No!” A chorus of cries in the background made Eddie smile, his chest aching even more with an unfamiliar feeling. 

Tiny stampedes of feet cleared in the background. “Sorry, it’s a zoo over here, Ed.” Steve snorted lightly. 

“Yeah, no, I get it.” Eddie laughed lightly, stopping himself gently. “Well, actually, I don’t. That’s, uh, that’s actually why I was calling.” Eddie exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. “I, uh, I just called Brielle, and she’s-” 

“-Steven! I need help in here!” Nancy’s voice pierced through the phone, sharp even in the background. 

“Fuck. Hey, Ed, can I call you back? We’re trying to make cookies, and they’re decorating the baby.” Steve sighed. “I’m telling you, these kids are insane. I’m about to rip my hair out, and I still gotta make a fuckin’ dollhouse.” Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper. 

“Yeah, no, I get it. Don’t worry about it, man.” Eddie felt his waterline flood. “Go be with your family.” 

“Alright, I gotta go. Merry Christmas, Munson.” Steve hummed over the line. 

“Merry Christmas.” Eddie muttered, the dial tone cutting him off again. 

He leaned back in the dining room chair, cigarette burning between his fingers. Alone.

Present

“Eddie!” You called, wrangling the squirming one year old in your arms, Delilah was determined to get to the shiny presents, squealing and cackling. She was just crawling, thankfully, toddling but not as sure, but she was fast. 

“Ed, get the phone!” You yelled, the trill of the landline Eddie still had around filled the house. Brielle in front of you, in pajamas that matched her little sisters, phone dangling from her grasps. 

“She’s gonna open a present tonight.” Brielle giggled, recording her sister happily. 

“Yeah, or tear the tree down.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “I told you a candy cane was too much.” You glared at Eddie playfully. He’d snuck her tastes of a candy cane earlier at your parent’s house, laughing at how her eyes lit up. 

Eddie grinned, snagging the phone off the hook. “Hello?” 

There was a silence, the tiniest hitch of a breath on the other line. Eddie frowned, looking down at the caller id. “Hello?” 

“Is Brielle there?” The huffy, snide of a tone that he’d know anywhere. Gina. Why she was calling him on Christmas Eve, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he had an idea that it was due to Brielle’s silent treatment towards her after Gina’s rage filled rant about Lilah’s birth.

“Hello, Gina. Merry Christmas to you.” Eddie clipped, eyes rolling. “Yeah, she’s here.” 

Gina paused, and Eddie could picture her even now, nails tapping against the table furiously, anxiously. “Well, can you- can I talk to her?” 

Eddie’s head turned, his gaze meeting Brielle’s. She shook her head, brows raised nearly in offense at the suggestion. “Uh, Gina, she-she’s kinda busy right now-” 

“-Right.” Gina scoffed, tone harsh but Eddie could hear it, the traces of hurt lingering in the defensiveness. “Guess she likes the child bride more than her actual mother-” 

“-Alright, Gina.” Eddie huffed. “You have a good one. Merry Christmas.” 

“Wait!” The shrill in her tone, desperate and alarming. 

Eddie waited, holding the phone back to his ear. Gina huffed, taking in a deep breath. “Can you… Can you talk to her?” Her voice was small, quiet. “Just-Just tell her I want to see her, and I have gifts for her, and-and,” There was a pause, a shaky breath. “Tell her I miss her and I love her?” 

Eddie’s chest ached for her sympathetically. He knew she deserved it, that Brielle was probably in the right with her cruelty. Still, Eddie sympathized with her. The bitter loneliness of being alone during the holidays. 

“Yeah, Gina. I can do that.” Eddie nodded slowly, his voice dropping. “I’ll, uh, I’ll tell her.” 

“Thanks.” The word was clipped, drowned in disdain and followed with a sniffle. 

“Have a Merry Christmas, Gina.” Eddie sighed softly, hanging up the phone with a final click. 

He turned back to the living room. You and Brielle were still desperately trying to distract Lilah from the shining ornaments with her toys, rattling and shaking them in front of her so she squealed, only to turn back to the tree. 

Eddie smiled, scooping up the baby, tossing her in the air gently so she screeched in laughter. “She’s never going to sleep.” You grinned warmly, starry eyed watching Eddie cuddle your baby. 

“Nah, she’ll sleep in a little bit.” Eddie shrugged, snuggling her close to his chest. Delilah turned into his touch, face pressing into his chest, rubbing her face sleepily into the soft cotton of his Christmas pajama shirt that matched with his girls. 

His brows shot up, grinning triumphantly. You snorted, rolling your eyes lightly. “Alright, Santa. What kind of cookies do you want?” 

“Whatever kind you wanna make me, bunny. ‘M not picky.” Eddie hummed, rocking Delilah against his chest gently. 

“I bought the Snowman sugar cookie ones.” Brielle smiled brightly. “I can make them.” 

Eddie’s chest filled with warmth, looking down at the tiny girl in his arms, heavy lids pulling shut with sleep, knuckling at them. The lights on the tree seemed brighter and brighter as the years passed. A real tree this time, filled with ornaments and memories hanging on the branches, room for more as the years went on.  

[average-vibe]

SBI reacting to u sleeping on them :)

summary: it’s in the title lol

pairings: techno x reader (platonic or romantic) philza x reader (platonic) wilbur x reader(meant to be romantic but platonic too), and tommy x reader (romantic or platonic)

warnings: swearing

a/n: sup.

masterlist

PHILZA MINECRAFT

You and phil were chilling on the couch, your head gently rested on his shoulders, watching TV.

“see, i don’t know why he didn’t-“ phil said, before the sound of your snoring filled his ears. “er, mate?” he said, lightly tapping your head, to no response. phil turned the TV down, and tried to make you more comfy without awaking you. when one of his noisy sons would come in, he would tell them to, and i quote, “shut the fuck up, are you fucking blind?” in a whisper yell. when you woke up, he chuckled, and asked, “are you done?”, and proceeded to cackle at your horrified face

extra things:

WOULD NOT GET UP. EVER. HUNGRY? GOTTA WAIT, YNS ASLEEP.

knows how to handle it bc he has 3 sons and 3 more adopted kids, including you.

would tell wilbur to “stop playing your fucking guitar, someone’s trying to get their beauty sleep.”

TECHNOBLADE (fly high)

you laid on top of techno, arms draped around his sides, like this

you were really tired that day, and really wanted some rest. everyone else was out at wilbur’s gig, and techno was your best option.

“eH?” was all techno said when you asked if you could cuddle with him. “why would i do that?” was the next thing

eventually, you bribed him by letting him read you greek mythology, and after some begging, he finally gave in and, will rolled eyes, let you climb onto him.

you listened to him ramble on about how cool some of the gods were, his voice putting your brain to rest. as he rambled, he noticed your breathing getting quieter, and you stopped moving.

“hey? yn?” he whispered, before finally realizing you were sound asleep.

both mortified and in appreciation of you, he quietly sat there, letting you rest. every once in a while he’s tap on you, to see if you had woken up yet, but your still body didn’t budge.

when the boys got home, their ruckus woke you up. and techno was fully prepared to fight them.

EXTRA STUFF

if you started showing that you were cold, he would put his cloak on you without second thought.

when you’ve okie up, he just smirked and said, “welcome.”

WILBUR

you came into his room after school, tired and worn out of the day.

“hey.” wil said, strumming his guitar, smiling.

“hey. can i sleep in here? i wanna be in a quiet room” you said.

“yeah, cmon.” he said, setting his guitar down on the ground and laying down, patting himself like a chair.

“on you?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“of course.” wil said, smiling. you laid down on him, quickly feeling comfortable and at home.

eventually, you both fell asleep, just like this:

EXTRA STUFF:

every once in a while, he would wipe some hair out of your face and hold your cheek.

forehead kisses. obviously.

TOMMYINNIT

when you first walked into his room asking to sleep, he looked horrified

“i beg your fucking pardon?” he asked, as you giggled your head off.

“alright fine.” he eventually muttered, opening his lanky arms to let you come into his arms

you climbed into his arms, and you couldn’t ignore the look of adoration he gave you.

you fell asleep in his arms, like this:

EXTRA STUFF

when wilbur found you two, tommy immediately whisper screamed at him to fuck off

he stared at you for the entire time, just admiring you :)

[whiskeynwriting]

When You Say My Name

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

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Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Size kink, mask kink, dirty talk, open-ish relationship, kinda cheating?, very brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, alcohol consumption

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A/N: Disclaimer - this is written at the point in time before Graves’ betrayal of 141. Also, I hate that bastard. Also also, Ty to @thesleepingmusicneek for beta reading 🥰

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

There once was a time where you were treated that way, like the center of attention, the only girl in the world. He’d keep you close, take you out, buy you drinks and gifts and truly, whatever you wanted. His attention was yours and there was no other woman in the world that could compete with it. Everything you could hope to hear, he’d tell you - you’re perfect, I love you, you’re mine. That was, until about a month ago. Now, all of those privileges have been handed off to whatever woman he deems fit for the night. But that was only supposed to be while he was on leave, not while he was home, and most certainly not in front of your goddamn face.

Easily, tears sting your eyes and a jealous lump forms heavily in your throat. Your veins feel like ice and unpleasant embarrassment creeps through your bones. Out of mere spite, you watch them, heart pounding when you hear Graves greet her with, hey doll, alongside a hug and kiss on the cheek. You thought that was only your nickname; he’d never called another woman that, not in the year you’ve been together. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Phil told you he’d met this woman on his last deployment, and that told you everything you needed to know. You’d assumed with him coming home, you’d spend the evening together, not out at some shitty bar. Still, you came to see him, even though he was acting like he’d rather do anything else than see you. Even off the plane, he greeted you with a simple smile, a half-hug. The only man that approached you with genuine excitement, was Simon.

The hug Ghost gave you lifted your feet from the ground, tight and firm and full of happiness. He’s become a rather close friend as of late; for some reason, you find him easy to talk to. You met when Shadow Company joined 141 on their latest missions, no more than a few months ago now. And since then, you’ve managed to greet each other after every mission, making sure to send the other off when the next trip came around, too. And in between those occasions, Phil would often find the two of you on base together, usually in one of the common rooms. You’d be eating together, or playing pool, sometimes cards. Friendship was the word you often used, but Graves never fully bought it. Slowly but surely, jealousy crept up inside him, and you were more than aware of it.

Right now, though, that nasty, green emotion is consuming you. Your blood boils while you watch him continue to flirt, keeping an arm around her back and a hand securely on her hip. Graves buys her a shot, and then a drink, things he didn’t do for you when you joined him at the bar all but fifteen minutes ago. But then they’re sitting down together and she’s running her hand up his thigh and Christ, you feel like you’re going to be sick. As soon as he approached her, you retreated to the back of the pub, finding the farthest, darkest booth to sulk in. And still, you watch them, torturing yourself.

“All by yourself back here?”

“Fuck,” Jolting, your head snaps up, eyes falling on the bulky figure that is Simon Riley. “Hey, I… yeah.”

“Why’s that?” Casually, he makes himself comfortable, taking the seat across from you with a light sigh. It was something you bonded over, being loners. This type of scene wasn’t his thing, so of course, he came and found you.

Lifting both hands, he sets two glasses on the table, pushing one toward you. “For me?” You ask with a humorous smile, and he nods.

“That fruity thing you like.” Ghost responds before pulling up the edge of his mask to nurse his bourbon. And although you’re in no mood for company, his presence is comforting. Honestly, there’s no one else you’d rather have join you. “Why’re you alone, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart, a name that fell from his lips often. But only for you. Something Graves never liked.

The sentiment behind the name fills you with warmth, alongside the fact that he remembered your drink order. His entire presence prompts a new brew of emotions to swirl inside of you, clashing incredibly with the negativity brought on by Phil.

“Didn’t wanna see any more of that.” Jerking your head in Phil’s direction, you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Ghost looks over as well, taking in the situation. “I’d consider that cheating, if it were me.” He’s honest, he always is.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips; his comment only stirs the embers that were once settling in your gut. “Yeah, well, lucky for him it’s not.”

“What?” Simon scoffs, turning back toward you. You’re not able to see his expressions, not with that balaclava in the way. In fact, you can hardly see any of his features. With his black hood pulled up, that mask on and even those boney gloves covering his fingers, he’s quite hidden. Something you’ve always found alluring about him.

“Yeah…”

“Pardon my prodding, but…” Leaning in, Simon scoffs once again, a type of chuckle bouncing from his lips. “What kind of sense is that?”

Since the very first day you met, Simon had an interest in you. He thought you were gorgeous; a cute, sexy little thing that he wanted to keep close to him. That, on top of his general dislike for Graves, made it easy for him to disapprove of your relationship. And he wasn’t ever too subtle about it, either.

One big, dramatic sigh leaves your mouth, your head tilting back against the booth. “It’s complicated.”

He just shrugs. “Fill me in.” Leaning back, he takes another sip from his glass, watching the way your eyes follow his movements. Ghost allows you to take in this small sight, his scarred skin, his growing stubble, the view not many are given. Intriguing. “Unless, you’d rather I just go…”

“No.” Your response is instant. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just… I don’t want you to think badly of him.”

“By the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of him.” And you figure, he’s right. Phil isn’t exactly being secretive about this.

“He, well… he asked me for a, um… an open… relationship.” Ghost simply hums, a thoughtful noise as he nods. “He asked for it about a month ago.”

An open relationship, he thinks. Does that mean… she can sleep with other people, too?

“And you agreed to that?”

Another big sigh. “Yeah.”

“But you didn’t want to?” It’s almost like Simon is laying this out for you, trying to get you to see that Graves is just using you. Clearly, this arrangement isn’t fair.

“I… ugh. Yeah. I just didn’t want to cut things off completely, but… it looks like I should’ve just taken the hit. Would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than this.”

“He’s been with other women?” Ghost clarifies, trying to get the full picture. It baffles him, honestly. How could one man be so disloyal? And to you, of all people?

“Yep, quite a few. He tells me almost every time. Claims the honesty is good.”

Simon laughs at this. “Or he’s just clearing his conscience.”

“Exactly.”

A small lull wafts through your conversation, and in this pause, Simon knows what he wants to say. He knows what he wants to ask and absolutely has the balls to ask it. But is it the right time? Would you find his prodding offensive? Genuinely, he does cherish your friendship, but he’s wondering if this is his chance to make it something more.

“And have you?” Simon finally asks, the words coming out gently.

“Hm?”

“Been with anyone?”

The question isn’t exactly shocking. It’s no secret that Simon is interested in you, and with the way the conversation is going, it was only a matter of time before he asked.

“No, it didn’t interest me. I mean, not at first, anyway.” You’re speaking so openly that you don’t even register that you’ve said it before it leaves your mouth. And when it does, your face runs hot, wondering if he caught on to your wording.

“At first?” Of course he caught onto it. Would she be open to it? He wonders enthusiastically, Do I really have a chance of this going my way?

“Yeah, but I’m starting to think…” Fuck it. “Why not?” A dry laugh comes from your throat, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I should just start moving on.”

With excitement stirring inside him, Simon tries his best to suppress the expression on his still-exposed lips, which are now tilting upward into a mischievous grin. This is just what he wants to hear. And now that you’ve given him somewhat of an opening, he thinks he’ll shoot his shot. “Well… you know I’m always here for you.”

“Yeah?” Laughing at his comment, you look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Would he… would he really do this?

With a wicked smile, Simon squints his eyes at you. Hand wrapped firmly around his glass, those thick fingers slide over the condensation, gaze never parting from your own. “I think you know what it means.”

All too often, all too much, these sinful thoughts have crossed his mind. He’s indulged in them, fantasizing about you every time he got the chance. Thinking about how your perfect ass would look bouncing back against him, lubed up with your velvety heat swallowing him whole. Those pretty lips, what would they look like with your cheeks bulging, throat desperately trying to accommodate him? The way you sway your hips makes him want to pin you down, shove himself inside just to watch his dick press against your belly.

Ghost’s offer, or what seems to be an offer, is shocking to you. Finally, you think; a blatant display of his interest. You were starting to think he’d never make a move.

With one last glance over at Phil, you make an easy decision. Seeing him so blatantly disregard not only you, but your entire relationship, has you fuming. And feeling this much pain makes you want to hurt him back. What better way to do that than with Simon? The same man Graves has been jealous of, the same man you’ve wanted for months.

With a flirtatious smirk, you rest your elbows on the table, leaning your weight onto them. The circumstance has butterflies swarming your stomach, but there isn’t a single ounce of hesitancy inside. Just pure, simple excitement.

“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Now, you need to get the full picture. The last thing you want is to make an even bigger fool of yourself tonight by assuming things.

“I want you.” Simon returns easily. “And you know it, too.”

Playing coy, you shrug, sitting back in your seat. “I don’t know anything. You’ve never made a move.” And your teasing prompts a deep breath from him.

“Well, if I knew about this situation a little sooner, I might’ve.” Eyeing you up and down, Simon’s gaze is slow, saturating your body with his attention. “The late nights we’ve had, those moments on the couch, those sweet hugs every time I come home…”

“I like seeing you come home.” It’s hard to play dumb when you so desperately want him too.

“I wanna come home to you.”

Finally, he’s won, he’s gotten in the last word. Because now, you’re simply stunned. Words escape you, your lips parting in shock. From the way he’s phrasing it, Simon isn’t looking for a simple hookup. He’s interested in you.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ghost then offers, downing the rest of his drink. “I’m gonna head out for a smoke. Whether or not you choose to follow me, is your choice.”

Standing, he steps toward the door, only a few feet from where you’re both seated in the back. But before he leaves, he glances down at you, gently tapping your chin with his thumb. “You know what I want.”

He’s giving you a chance to think this over, to really decide what you want. Because to him, this means more than sex, and you know that.

“Didn’t even have a chance to light a cig.” Simon chuckles, watching you approach him through the dark.

When you find him, he’s leaning up against the bar’s outer wall, cigarette in hand. And when he leans upright, standing to his full height again, you’re mesmerized. Alluring doesn’t do this man justice.

With a small sigh, Ghost watches you step into his space, one gloved hand lifting to your face. He cups it then, swipes his thumb over the bone of your cheek. And his touch feels invigorating on your skin.

“You gonna tell me what you want?”

Offering a small nod, you keep his gaze, something he likes. “You.”

And this time, it’s a gravely sigh, a firm breath as he holds your face with both hands. Easily, smoothly, he’s bringing himself down to you, watching as you rise to the tips of your toes to meet him. You grab onto his forearms, feeling his breath against your face, his lips against your own. And it’s everything you imagined it would be. His kiss is firm and determined; he tastes like betrayal and excitement, like an antidote mixed with poison.

Already, he’s shoving his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, moaning quietly when you reciprocate the action. He doesn’t have an ounce of restraint in him, not anymore, not when you’re acting like this. The eagerness he exudes is so easily returned, like the two of you have been waiting for this moment. And honestly, you don’t know why you haven’t thought about this before. You’re in an open relationship and you haven’t even considered fucking Ghost?

Soft groans vibrate against your mouth before he’s whispering, “C’mere.”

To your delight, he pulls you further in, dropping his hands from your face to your waist. Your height difference prompts him to dive even further down, mouthing at you with an unexpected amount of desire. It fills your insides with excitement, with lust, your nerves sizzling as you continue to chase his touch. And on his end, Simon can barely catch his fucking breath. He’s been waiting for this, fucking dreaming of this. Being this close to you has his heart pounding, his adrenaline rushing.

Naturally, your hands move from his arms to his neck, holding him in the way you’ve been wanting to for so many months. And you think now, Graves finally has something to be jealous of.

“You want me?” Simon asks again, smile growing against your lips. Boldly, those broad palms find your ass, squeezing harshly.

There hasn’t been a single goddamn day in your relationship with Graves where you felt this good, this desired, this genuinely wanted. The way Simon kisses you is dizzying and he tastes like fucking nirvana. Everything about this man is a turn on, from his strength and power to the raw masculinity you so obviously drool over. You’ve longed for this, dreamt about this, what it would feel like to kiss him, touch him, fuck him.

“Yes, yeah.” Your nod is rapid, fingers petting along that sharp jawline.

“I want you; I want you, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling against your lips, moaning wantonly when your tongue makes its way into his mouth. Eagerly, he returns the sentiment, running the wet muscle over your own in slow, heated strokes. “I want you now.”

Regardless of his wording, you don’t expect him to pull you back the way he does, yanking you into the bar’s side alley. Pushing you into the cold, brick wall, Simon presses himself to your back, whispering gruffly into your ear, “That too rough for you?”

Already, he’s rubbing himself against your ass, grinding himself over your taught jeans and wrapping both arms around your belly. Those sinfully sweet lips then find a home on your neck, along your jaw. Everything is moving so fast that it has your heart racing, blood rushing, arousal flooding your system and burning hot between your legs.

Before you can respond, he’s reaching up with both hands, fondling you over your shirt. And the unexpected action has a shiver running throughout the entirety of your body, feeling those broad palms fist your breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples, groping them with overt enthusiasm.

“Perfect fucking tits…”

“No,” Meeting his actions, you soon form a rhythm, swaying your hips back against him. “I like, like when you’re rough.” It’s almost embarrassing, the way you stutter. But you can’t find it in you to care, not when he groans with approval against the base of your neck.

Even through his jeans, you can feel him, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. Continually, he ruts his crotch against your ass, holding you close while breathing humid breaths down your neck and back.

“Fuck… you already feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Ghost chuckles, grabbing onto your hips. “I can make you feel better.”

“Please.” It’s taking everything in you to not reach behind and pull off his mask, to not run your fingers through his hair and tug on the strands.

“Here?” He clarifies, more than willing. And you’ve never done anything close to this but you’ve also never been more excited in your entire goddamn life.

“Yeah,” Nodding, you gulp, feeling dizzy from his affection. “Yes, baby.”

Drunk on him and maybe your few drinks, you’re still sober enough to know you won’t regret any of this. Whether it’s a one-time thing or the start of something more, you won’t regret this.

“Mm…” Using both hands, he cups you, kneading the covered flesh of your backside with slow, firm grabs. He’s eyed you up and down so many times before tonight, imagining what it’d be like to grab you like this. But even through his unwavering lust, he has to be honest. “Haven’t got a condom, love.” It comes out as a mumble, the only time you’ve ever heard Ghost become hesitant.

“I didn’t want one.” It comes alongside a small laugh, a cheeky grin he can just barely see.

Instantly, he’s releasing a breath, moving spit-slick lips to your cheek for a quick kiss. “Perfect girl.” With a pleasant smile of his own, he drops his chin to your shoulder, fingers moving to undo your jeans. And the small ounce of praise has your insides flaming. “My girl.”

His, his.

Keeping his chin against your shoulder, he glances down, sighing when he pushes your jeans past the swell of your backside. Another squeeze, eyes glued to the sight of your bare skin, just as soft and smooth as he’d always imagined. Briefly, he wants to drop to his knees, kiss the sweet flesh he’s only gotten small teases of, bite into it, mark it. But he doesn’t have time for that, not when you’re out in public like this.

Unzipping his fly and popping the button on his pants is quick work, and though the lull is brief, your anticipation continues to grow evermore. You can feel the moment he’s free, resting himself between your cheeks. He’s hot to the touch, and noticeably throbbing.

“Baby…” Slowly, he slides, up and down between your cheeks. A wet trail quickly forms, his prespend smearing across your lower back.

“You want me?” He says it while slithering a hand around to your front, hooking two fingers into your panties so he can pull them down. Forgoing his aggressive nature for this moment, for you, two fingers then find your throbbing nerves, his touch sweet and delicate.

“Yes.”

“Need you to say it, love.” His entire body is pressed against your back, keeping you warm and safe. “Need you to tell me.”

Thick fingers toy with your entrance, dipping inside to get a small taste of your wetness, and it feels like fireworks are going off inside your stomach. He then drags both digits up to your clit, circling it while kissing your neck.

“I want you,” Lolling your head back onto his shoulder, you’re surprised at how quickly he then moves. Instantly, he’s retracting his hand and pumping himself against your ass, using the other to spread you open.

“Say it again.” Ghost requests, pressing himself against your thin skin, your pink lips.

“I want you.”

With his swollen tip spreading you open from behind, he pushes forward, groaning openly at your welcoming warmth. Every inch is intimidating, the push of his hips forcing you to accommodate him. Which is easy, especially when he licks up your neck, kissing your jawline and cheek. It’s sloppy, the way he mouths at you, the passion he gives you.

“Simon,” Both palms help to steady yourself against the wall as he continues, shoving himself inside inch by devastating inch. Christ, you can’t even imagine what it’d be like to have him in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” A forced breath, like the wind had just been knocked from his lungs. It’s only released when he’s entirely inside, pelvis flush with your ass. “Christ, love when you say my name.”

Both of those strong arms then wrap themselves around your center, keeping you entirely against him. Almost naturally, you’re dropping a hand, cupping the space between your legs. You can’t help it, you just want to feel him, your fingertips caressing his base, his scrotum. And that has him losing his goddamn mind, throbbing against your walls in return. Nosing gently over your head, he groans - hums, the simple action showing him just how much you adore this.

Running a hand down your outer thigh, Ghost begins to move, his actions slow but firm. And every drag lights your insides on fire; it’s such an adrenaline rush to finally have him inside.

“How can that bastard ignore you like that?” Simon mumbles, more so to himself than anything else. “Look so fucking sexy in this… perfect body, in these tight little jeans.”

“Baby…” His thrusts are becoming quicker, harder, working himself up to the breaking point that’s soon to come. But not too fast, he wants to make this last.

“Been wanting to feel you since Graves brought you to base.” Ghost suddenly admits, the smack of his pelvis against your skin beginning to radiate into the night.

The words he’s using are truly a force to be reckoned with, every single syllable melting you to absolute putty at his feet. He sounds so serious and genuine, so dominant, so possessive. This is everything you’ve wanted.

Breathless, you look back at him, an adoring smirk crossing your face. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes.” Nipping aggressively at your neck, he moans, Ghost fucking moans.

“You should’ve said something earlier then.”

And at that comment, you think back to Phil. Should you really be doing this? You know it will upset him; but whether or not he has a right to be upset has yet to be determined.

“Yeah? Would you have chosen me instead?” Bringing you back to the present is that gravelly voice, deep and beautifully accented.

Yeah… fuck Graves, and fuck that relationship.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Simon asks again, pleasantly surprised by your answer.

“Fuck yes.” Reaching back, you find his head, hand sliding down the nape of his neck. You need to hold onto him, somehow, you need to feel more of him.

Honestly, you would have. And you don’t care if that makes you a shitty person or a shitty girlfriend; you gave your all to Phil and he took it for granted.

“You really mean that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, baby. I’m so happy you want me.” Forcing yourself back against him, you bounce off his pelvis, driving him deeper inside.

“Christ,” Dropping his head, his face falls to your bare shoulder, mouthing at you again and again.

Laughing, you chastise him gently. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“Want to.” Comes his returned mumble, hands securing themselves to your hips. “Fuck.”

It’s like he can’t even see straight; feeling the gorgeous woman that you are rolling your hips back against him. Asking for more, pulling him in for more.

In the middle of the night, half naked in a fucking backalley, you feel so incredibly exposed; but Ghost makes it feel like you’ve been doing this together all your lives. He touches you like he knows you, like he’s done it a million times. It’s comforting, his presence exuding a warm sense of safety.

Rolling your hips backward, your brows furrow, soft moans continuing to escape you. Images of Simon’s fully naked body suddenly begin to run rampant in your mind, wishing so desperately to experience more of him. His muscles and scars, the light blonde hair leading down to his pelvis, his broad back and wide hands. You want to touch every inch of him, hold him, feel him.

Christ, did you pick the wrong man when you met them. Simon feels so incredibly different than Graves; veinier, thicker. Every inch forces you open, spreads your legs just a bit wider, makes your whines just a little bit higher. It hurts so good and you can’t help but cry out for him.

“Oh… I love that.” Simon admits, slowing to a harsh grind against your ass.

“Baby,”

“You like how that feels?” Pulling out only about an inch or so, he shoves himself back in, harsh but not aggressive.

Simon’s body reacts so openly to your own, his lungs shivering with every breath just from the feeling, the sensation of your warmth. And every movement creates a delicious force of friction between your bodies, heat building, arousal peaking.

“Give me control,” He rumbles deeply into your ear, lips briefly brushing by. “Let me show you how good it can be.”

You can smell the bourbon on his breath, can feel the way he grabs for your hips and ass. And at that moment, you fully give in, halting your sultry motions and letting him do whatever the fuck he wants.

“Keep holding onto me like that,” He requests, feeling your nails dig into the skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, it turns me on.”

“Simon, fuck I, I can’t…”

“Can't what, sweetheart?” He’s kissing all over your face, your cheek and chin and jaw, sloppy movements to match his increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Can’t believe I didn’t choose you.”

And that shoots a surge of energy through his bones, his thrusts now the product of his unwavering strength. It forces you to shriek, to cry out for him and release the most beautifully whorish sound Simon’s ever heard in his entire life. He fucks into you relentlessly, one arm sliding up to grope your chest again.

“We’re not being very subtle.” Choking out the words, you huff, feeling him punch against your most delicate spot.

“Don’t give a damn.” Comes his mumbled response, mouthing at your neck. “You’re mine, and I want Graves to see.”

“Really, baby?” Your breaths are rapid and heavy, lightheaded from everything you’re experiencing.

“Unless you tell me no, unless I hear otherwise, you’re mine.”

Dipping a hand down, he finds your precious little bud, rubbing firm circles into it. Immediately, your hips jerk beneath his touch, gasps floating from your throat.

“Look how responsive you are,” Nuzzling into your cheek, he kisses it. “Pretty little lover.”

“Baby,” Said alongside a breathless smile, you open your eyes, wishing to see his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

He feels so warm around you, inside you, keeping you beneath the sturdy barricade of his arms. You want to be his, more than anything in this moment.

“How could any man stray away from you?” He wonders aloud. “Perfect fucking cunt, gorgeous goddamn face.”

Repeatedly, he sinks in to the hilt, bouncing his hips back and forth with easy sways, slapping himself against the seam of your slippery cunt. He wants more than anything to feel your body, your bare skin, have you completely exposed to him. And he’s promising himself that he’ll make that happen.

“Christ, babe,” Huffing out a flurry of rapid breaths, he admits, “I’m close.”

“Baby, fuck.” A whimper slips from your mouth, eyes shutting firmly. You can feel the way he pulses against your walls, can feel the stutter in his hips.

The heat of euphoria curls tightly in his abdomen, the combination of arousal and possession pushing him over the edge. It’s fierce, powerful, legs shaking and breath punching from his chest. But still, he remembers to pull out, free hand shoving your jacket up while the other fists himself. Hot spurts shoot over your lower back, trickling down your ass. It’s sticky and wet but it turns you on more than anything, feeling him cum on you like this.

“Simon,” Arching your back for him, you listen to his ragged breaths, feeling how rapidly he pumps his shaft.

“Fuck me,” Ghost finally speaks, slowing his movements and taking a look at the mess he’s made. “Fuck me…”

Leaning further in, he sighs, kissing the back of your neck while tucking himself away. He’s careful to not get any of his own spend on his hoodie, but when he pulls away, realizes he got some on your jacket by accident.

“Shit, sorry about that.”

“Huh?” Turning around, you finally face him, blissed out expressions taking in the other’s. Briefly, he smiles, until he explains, “Got a little bit on your jacket.”

Surprisingly, you huff a sarcastic laugh, slipping your arms from the material and dropping it to the ground. “It was Phil’s, anyways.”

“Well shit,” Ghost exclaims, picking it up again. “Would've gotten a lot more on it if I’d known that.” All you do is roll your eyes, with the slightest smirk. “Turn around.”

He nods in your direction, watching you follow his request. Using the jacket he cleans his cum off your back, wiping it away before discarding the clothing once again. And then Ghost is pressing himself against your back, kissing your neck while pulling up your pants. He zips them, buttons them, feeling your cheeks plump with a grin.

“Si?”

“Yeah, love?”

Turning around in his hold, you release a wavering breath, hands sliding up his forearms. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Your voice is soft and quiet, hesitant. “I know it’s difficult, when you’re on leave…”

“Not for me.” Instantly, you give him a look of apprehension. But he just shrugs. “Don’t really fancy the barracks bunnies we get. And with the looks of you…” Reaching out, he cups your chin, fingers pressing lightly into your cheeks. “Pretty thing you are… I won’t have a problem being loyal.”

Suddenly, he’s removing himself from you, sliding his arms from the confines of his black hoodie. “Wanna head back to the bar?” He asks while shuffling out of the sleeves, finally taking it off his body. “Or back to base?”

“I don’t really wanna go back in there…” Your response is incredibly timid, not wanting to disappoint him if he wants to stay out.

“Perfect.” If he hasn’t made it clear, Simon isn’t exactly a people person. And then, to your dismay, he pulls down his mask, hiding that gorgeous grin. “Here, love. It’s chilly out.”

He’s handing you his hoodie, the black one he was just wearing. And when you take it in your hands, you realize it has his rank and last name on the back.

“Really?” You’ve never had anything like this, Graves never wanted you to wear anything with his name on it.

“Put it on, babe.” He nods once, cupping your jaw and giving your cheek a kiss through the cloth of his mask. “Keep it.”

[technoblade-updates]

Mr TechnoDad posted one final addition to “so long nerds” on Techno’s subreddit.

[Image ID:

A cropped screenshot of a reddit post by u/MrTechnodad in r/Technoblade. The title reads “A last, small message from Technoblade”

The body of the post reads:

“Hey everyone,

When Alex left me his instructions for making "so long nerds" he also included a few things like the photos with Wilbur and Phil, and the 10 million plague. There was also a link to a song. I didn't know what to do with the link to the song so I just left that out. (Like, I couldn't include the music in the video, you know, because of copyright issues.)

Anyway here is the link. Maybe we can think of it as the outro music for "so long nerds".

If you click the link you gonna cry, just sayin'. I did.

https://youtu.be/1lB42RjZs0A&t=52s”.

End ID]

[oncasette]

a lil request: climbing into bed with Phil after a long day of work.. 🥰

let me show you everything i know

summary: 0.5k

You’re not sure when the lamp was turned off or when Phil’s breathing had gotten heavier or, even, when your eyes had shut, but the next time you’re conscious of what’s happening your husband has thrown his body almost completely over top of yours and your legs have intertwined themselves with his.

or the one where you come home to phil after a long day

warnings: none

masterlist | taglist

You think your bones have turned into jelly. Or a watery jell-o. Thick and goopy with exhaustion so prevalent it’s worked its way into your bloodstream. Your shoes have already been kicked off, forgotten by the door along with your purse and your keys and your brain, probably. 

Phil’s already in bed when you shuffle into the room. He’s leaned up against the headboard with his well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights in hand, reading glasses drooping over his nose and a threadbare t-shirt you’re nearly dying to curl into. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he lazily stamps his bookmark–the receipt he’d gotten at the coffee shop last saturday–between the pages before he sets it on his nightstand. 

You offer him some semblance of a hum in response, tripping over your own feet as you drag yourself to the closet. Your skirt comes off first–the zipper only getting stuck once on its way down your thighs–then your shirt and your stockings and the bobby pins that’d started to ache at the base of your skull. 

“You okay?” he asks. His palm sweeps his brow as he watches you. 

“Fine, baby,” you sigh as you riffle through Phil’s t-shirt drawer. You’re not sure which one you’re looking for. Not really looking for a specific one at all, really, but you grab his old high school football shirt quicker than you probably should’ve. “Long day.”

Slipping the thin cotton over your head, you keep your arms from going through the holes and undo your bra beneath the new warmth. You pull it out from under the shirt, nearly missing the low whistle your husband gives you from the few feet separating you from the bed. “Long day, huh?” he asks. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Just people being annoying. Bill started-” “Bill’s an asshole,” he interjects with a scoff, opening the covers for you to slip beneath them as he lowers himself down further into the sheets. “Always fucking hated Bill.” 

“Bill is an asshole, but that wasn’t the point of my story,” you say as you slide in beside him and the covers fall over your frame. Phil’s like a space heater. He warms you faster than the sun in July, leaving you to melt into him as you continue. “So, as I was saying. Bill started complaining about how…” A yawn interrupts your statement. 

“Sorry,” Another one. Smaller, this time. “Started complaining about the catering choices Margie had picked out for lunch tomorrow and…” He lets you speak uninterrupted. Nearly. He coughs out one more comment about how much he hates Bill and how small his dick must be, but other than that you’re left to ramble as you please. 

You’re not sure when the lamp was turned off or when Phil’s breathing had gotten heavier or, even, when your eyes had shut, but the next time you’re conscious of what’s happening your husband has thrown his body almost completely over top of yours and your legs have intertwined themselves with his. 

“Phil,” you whisper. 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he says, and you do, miraculously, without another thought of lousy your day had been.