#twiddly

[themancorialist]

Piccadilly Gardens, Manchester.

[columboscreens]

[likelyrats]

fucking around with the one of the new song’s chords (no title so we’re going with love and hate which is a shit title tbh I hope they don’t use that)

just need to perfect it, record it, claim it as my own, then sue the libertines for everything they have. profit.

[astralnymphh]

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

[lycomorpha]

Some more delicate, pearlescent box tree moths for your motivational moth enjoyment.

This moth was accidentally introduced to the UK in 2007, and it's generally described in very unflattering terms and as a pest on ornamental box trees. Which is fkn rude tbh - the moth didn't ask humans to transport it around the globe in their ridiculously faffy topiary. It's just doing what moths do, living it's best life, and I think it's beautiful regardless.

May we be loved even if we destroy the occasional over-pruned bit of twiddly-ass hedging. (& I would also like to be pearlescent)

[misshoneyimhome]

William would be the type to call the intern his good girl while he rails her in front of a bathroom mirror at a team event. He is not even covering her mouth or putting his fingers between her lips to keep her quiet because he wants people to know how good he fucks you based on how some of the comments from his teammates were made before they got together officially. Even though it would be hot for him to her to suck on his fingers.

Happy Willy-finally-signing-the-contract day! 🥂🥳

Okay, so I know this has been on a waiting list for a little while, but I had to have it make sense for me - sorry 🙈 But it's finally here, and I just hope that it's turned out to be as good as expected 🤞🏻🤍

Also, this was paired with another ask 💙

[And thank you so much for the 2️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers 🙏🏼]

Anyways;

Warnings; actually only unprotected sex (p in v) - I'm losing my touch here; and of course public spacing;

Word count; 4.4K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

I feel your love, and I feel it burn pt || I William Nylander🖋️⚡️ [intern x willy]

After 3 minutes and 56 seconds. 

That's when Gaudreau managed to score with a backhand shot, guiding the puck into the net and securing the overtime win for the Blue Jackets. Which also meant another loss for the Leafs.

Tonight, the game had been really intense, and on the positive note, most players felt they'd given their all. But despite this, the players still made their way to the tour bus with heads down, and there wasn't much conversation, just a few encouraging words from Coach Keefe in the locker room following the match. And during the bus ride, all the lads had their headphones in, enjoying the comfort of silence. 

But as they arrived at the plane, the tense atmosphere started to fade away, and soft cheers filled the aircraft as players began chatting about the upcoming New Year's event. Only a game against the Hurricanes was scheduled for the next day, but the talk still shifted to the festivities for the New Year's party.

And you couldn't help but smile as you listened to the lads' excitement about the event, which you and a few others from the team had organised. You’d gone all out with decorations, making the most of your event planning skills, creating an amazing atmosphere for the team to enjoy, along with their partners and families, to welcome the new year. And the menu was carefully chosen after coordinating with the venue's hosts to ensure everything would be perfect.

It made you even happier to hear how excited the players were, discussing the outfits their partners had planned for them and their hairdresser appointments, among other things.

However, your relaxed state of mind was suddenly interrupted by Auston and Mitch, who came to occupy the empty seats in front of you. After the match, feeling rather tired, you sought some quiet space a few feet away from the noisy players. But that didn't suit the two forwards. Instead, they needed your full attention.

"Hey, Twiddly dee and Tweedle dum, what's up?" you chuckled lightly as the two lads stared intensely at you, sporting mischievous smiles on their handsome faces.

"Well," Auston chuckled, "We were just thinking..."

"Oh, watch out there, Auston, we don’t want you to get a sudden headache," you teased, earning an eye roll from the man in front of you. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, since your date with Jared didn't quite pan out," Mitch chimed in with a soft smile, "We were just wondering who you'd bring as your date for the New Year's team event?"

His question caught you off guard. Not because it was an unusual question coming from the two boys, but simply because you hadn't given it any thought. You were supposed to bring a date?

Well, of course, you were. The whole event allowed plus ones, and you should have known that, considering you were part of the planning team.

But you didn't want to bring a date. You couldn't. Because the guy you were dating would already be there. William Nylander, the Swedish player wearing number 88.

However, the team didn't know that. At least, you didn't think so. Your relationship with William was meant to be a secret. Yet, a small part of you feared that perhaps some of the players already knew or had an inkling. You and William had never been entirely subtle about your friendship right from the start, since you'd always been close and engaged in playful banter. But now that you were romantically involved, you knew you had to tone it down a bit.

And as much as you wanted to spill the beans that William was your secret date for the event, you instead flashed them a bright smile and feigned a light laugh.

"Who said I was planning on bringing anyone?" you tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Wait, so you're not bringing anyone?" Mitch asked, looking slightly surprised.

And you simply shook your head with a warm smile. "Nah... I'm not really feeling it. Besides, I'm kind of working, I guess. So, I'll just make sure you guys have a good time."

"So, you're not planning to introduce whoever you're seeing right now?" Auston added with a smirk, causing your eyes to widen slightly in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying your best to stay composed.

"Come on, as if we haven't noticed those hickeys on your neck, y/n," the Scottsdale lad grinned, pointing to the scarf you'd been wearing for the past few days.

Shit, you thought. William, who just had to leave marks, and now the boys had spotted them, which you knew they inevitably would. But you attempted to deflect their observation with a smile.

"Just because I've got hickeys doesn't mean I'm seeing anyone... at least not anyone I'd let you guys scare away at New Year's. That's what Easter is for," you casually joked, trying to lighten the slight tension.

And it appeared that your response was almost good enough for them, despite their questioning looks as if their minds were racing at full speed.

"Fair point," Mitch chuckled lightly.

However, just as they were about to return to their seats, Auston leaned in gently and whispered softly in your ear.

"I really hope that Willy approves of this guy..."

His low voice sent a shiver down your spine. Why would he say something like that?

"I don't know what you mean, Aus... Willy's just a good friend," you flashed him a sweet smile.

"Oh, I think we both know there's more than friendship on your mind," he gave you a cheeky wink before strolling back to his seat, joining the conversation casually.

You had to suppress your reaction, clenching your jaw to keep your composure when Auston more than hinted at your feelings for William. But it seemed like mere teasing, and the boys didn't actually know anything, you thought. 

And truly, they didn't.

Only Calle was in the loop, as William had confided in him a few days ago. But as for Mitch and Auston? It was all just guesswork.

Speculations that had been floating around for a while, mainly because everyone was aware of William's crush on you. Furthermore, it was rather obvious to anyone paying attention how the two of you exchanged meaningful glances across the room.

Yet, they remained unaware of your relationship. They probably didn't even suspect that you and William had been sleeping together for months. Still, this lack of knowledge didn't stop them from pushing Willy to make a move on you.

To them, your connection was simply adorable and amusing. They'd never seen William so into a girl, at least not on an emotional level. So, for a while now, they'd been brainstorming ways to subtly bring the two of you closer. Just to test the waters. 

Even before you and William had shared your first kiss, they’d occasionally made deliberate exits from the room at the same time, creating space for you to be alone with William. Or they'd linger outside a room, ensuring that William ended up being in close proximity to you.

However, this time was different.

They could sense that there was more than just friendly banter happening between you two, so they decided to take their efforts further.

And the result? 

Mitch had asked Stephanie to assist, getting her to invite you for a coffee meet up on the 30th before the match, while Auston had made plans with William to take the dogs for a walk.

And as silly as their plan might have sounded, it led to you sitting alone in the coffee house after Stephanie texted you at the last minute, claiming she was tied up, and in walked William. Of course, Auston had bailed on him just before their supposed coffee walk.

You couldn't help but burst into heartfelt laughter as you realised what was going on. Seeing each other instead of the people you were meant to meet made it apparent that your friends were up to something.

"God, they really tried to set us up, didn't they?" you chuckled as William joined you at the table with a coffee.

"I suppose they did," he grinned widely. "But the joke's on them, I guess."

"Yeah, well... it kinda already would be, but there's no need to let them in on that," you smiled as you enjoyed your warm drink.

"Fair point... but I'll catch you later?" William smiled, knowing he had to return to his waiting dogs outside.

"Yup, as always," you whispered softly, your eyes fixed on him as he left the coffee shop, watching the man your heart deeply desired for as long as possible.

And not many hours passed before you were back at the Scotiabank Arena, greeting each player as they walked by, getting everything ready in the locker room, setting up their equipment, and preparing for the media's arrival.

Everything unfolded smoothly as usual. The media naturally quizzed William about his contract before shifting their focus to the night's game strategies. And then the players went through their warm-ups in preparation for the match against the Hurricanes.

However, unfortunately, it ended in yet another loss for the team. Their former teammate Bunting scored the opening goal for Carolina, and despite the Leafs' valiant efforts to stage a comeback, Aho had already sealed the match.

It was another evening in the hallway, filled with encouraging and uplifting words from management and families to ensure the players didn't lose all faith in themselves.

So, after ensuring everything was settled for the night, you found your boyfriend still in the locker room, almost done.

"Hey," you spoke softly, quickly making sure you were alone.

"Hey babe," he met your sweet smile as you slowly approached.

It wasn't easy to maintain distance between you two. Right now, all you wanted was to throw caution to the wind and shower him with affectionate words, just like all the other wives and girlfriends did with their partners.

Your gazes were fixed on each other as you slowly moved closer. You licked your lips in a seductive manner, considering the sensation of his lips on yours, as you allowed yourself to succumb to his embrace, feeling his body against yours.

There was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you together, despite all rational thoughts advising against it. Yet, the attraction was overpowering. And before long, you found your hands resting gently on William's chest, while his hands delicately tangled in the back of your hair, drawing you in for a tender kiss.

It was gentle and affectionate, a romantic moment shared as you both tried not to be overwhelmed by the chemistry between you.

But it wasn't simple.

William had to muster the will to pull away, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you, engage in a passionate kiss, and yield to the temptation of pressing you against the wall and fucking you right then and there.

So, releasing a soft sigh, he gazed down at you with a tender expression.

"Please don't tell me you're bringing a date tomorrow night..."

His words caught you off guard. Why would he even consider that possibility?

But it wasn't entirely without reason. For weeks leading up to the team event, the players had been discussing who the single ones would bring as their dates. When asked, William had casually laughed it off with a laid-back remark like 'maybe just someone I've hooked up with once' or 'I'm not bringing anyone, I'm too focused on hockey to have time to find a date'. 

And these responses prompted Auston and Mitch to set him up with someone, hoping to see if there was anything between you two. But their matchmaking attempt seemed to have failed. At least, that's what you believed.

Looking up at the man in front of you with a gentle smile, you did your best to reassure him with a slight shake of your head.

"Don't worry, I only care about being in the same room as you, Willy."

And your soft words appeared to calm William's nerves a bit.

"Good," he simply said before pulling you in for another kiss, this time with a hint of more intensity as both of you leaned into it a bit more, unable to resist, and convinced that no one else was around.

As your tongues intertwined and William's hands drew you closer, your hands trailed up around his neck. But your intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a loud exclamation. Startled, you turned around with wide eyes.

"YES! Fucking knew it!" Auston almost shouted as he and Mitch barged into the locker room, catching sight of you and William kissing. The two boys had decided to double back and check on their friend, still suspecting something mysterious was happening, and they were thrilled about what they found.

"Shit..." you muttered softly as you reluctantly pulled away a bit.

"Oh, don't let us interrupt, lovebirds..." Auston teased, waggling his eyebrows as he confidently stood at the entrance, with Mitch next to him, both sharing equally smug smirks.

"Come on, guys..." William attempted a casual chuckle, rubbing his hand on his neck, realising he had been caught out for real this time.

"Hey, no worries... your secret's safe with us," Mitch chuckled softly, raising his hands in a playful defence. "Well, it would be if everyone on the team didn't already know..."

"What?" you exclaimed, taken aback.

"Yeah, we've all sort of assumed for a while—just needed confirmation," Auston interjected with another assured chuckle. "And now we've got it!" he added before the two lads shook their heads and made their exit, leaving behind a few cheeky remarks.

"Remember to use protection!"

"And get some rest before the big event tomorrow."

You couldn't wrap your head around it. Did everyone really know about you and William?

Remaining still in the locker room, you turned to face William once more, a soft smile gradually spreading across your lips as the realisation of what had just occurred sank in.

"Well, fuck..." you chuckled softly.

"Yeah..." William smiled, his hands gently finding your hips as he pulled you closer to him. "The good thing now is that I won't have to sneak a kiss from you in the dark of the wardrobe tomorrow night," he whispered softly.

And you couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of reassurance that the team knew about your relationship. Now, your main concern was only the managers.

"I suppose that's a relief," you chuckled lightly, planting another soft kiss on William's lips. However, you quickly separated once more upon hearing footsteps in the hallway, realising that the staff was finishing up, and it was time to leave the arena soon.

So, swiftly, you made your way out, calling it a night for the work. 

And as had been the case many times before, you spent the night at William's condo. Gradually, it had become the place where you spent most of your time together, partly because you knew he wanted to be with his dogs, whom you also adored. Yet truth be told, William's place was just much nicer than yours. Despite the quirky art he'd decorated it with, his condo was spacious, well-appointed with stylish interior decor, and overall, just much better than yours.

So, what you opted to do was take advantage of his wonderful shower after gathering your outfit and essentials for hair and makeup. Meanwhile, William was casually enjoying some gaming time with the team before tonight’s event.

And before you knew it, both of you were dressed to the nines, getting ready to head out for the party, appearing just like a genuine couple.

"Oh, hell no," William chuckled, his mouth forming an 'O' as his eyes stared intensely at you.

"What?" you asked, slightly puzzled by his reaction.

"You can't wear that..." 

His eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of the long, sleek black satin dress that snugly hugged your curves, boasting a slit running up your right leg, almost reaching to expose the skin on your hip. The dress had a plunging v-neck with thin straps, accentuating your chest.

"Of course, I can, babe," you softly chuckled as you approached him, your arms gently encircling his neck as you walked into his embrace, where his hands found your waist. "Remember, it's all for you..."

Your soft, seductive voice made William lean into your touch, and you shared a deep kiss, both of you striving not to mess up your styles, before reluctantly parting, taking a deep breath, and then heading to the event.

However, your choice of dress turned out to be more of a tease than you anticipated.

The way you carried yourself so elegantly drew attention from all corners of the venue. Girlfriends and wives complimented how stunning you looked with your hair and makeup done to perfection, and even a few managers offered polite remarks about your appearance in their utmost professional manner as you entered.

It was almost a form of exquisite torment being separated during dinner – you seated with the managers and employees, and naturally, William with his teammates. Even after dinner, you had to maintain your distance as you conversed with your colleagues, discussing your career goals and the outstanding progress of your internship.

Where somewhere along the way, you found yourself engaged with one of the players.

Yet, despite attempting to remain professional and composed throughout the evening, you couldn't resist exchanging glances with William. Your gazes piercing through the air as both of you observed each other engaging in different conversations. And the anticipation only heightened when, gradually, one by one, the managers and families with children began leaving the event, leaving the players and their partners without children behind to continue the party.

It was almost too good to be true.

You could finally express your longing for the man you desired in a nearly open setting among the team and their partners.

And as the clock struck midnight, William drew you in for a tender yet passionate kiss. It was a moment to openly share the deep feelings that had developed over the past few months, feelings that could now be openly displayed, at least for the night. The dynamics might change upon returning to work, but that concern was set aside for the time being.

For the moment, you relished in the ability to wrap your arms around each other, share laughter and jokes with the others, and simply revel in the party atmosphere.

It was all so magical.

Yet, despite the wonderful feeling of being openly affectionate as a couple, the desire within William was reaching a boiling point.

Your appearance tonight had stirred a longing in him, a yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his, and to reach the peak of pleasure together.

However, it seemed like you had no intentions of leaving the event anytime soon. You were engrossed in conversations when you weren't enticingly flaunting your curves on the dance floor.

And it was becoming overwhelming for him to watch.

You looked incredibly stunning and sexy, and William felt a sudden urge to let you know just how amazing you were – and make you feel more than just good.

So, as you returned from your dance with some of the girls, William sneakily entwined his fingers with yours, gently leading you towards the hallway.

“Willy…” you giggled, following along. “What's going on?���

But he remained silent.

Instead, he simply guided you towards one of the restrooms, not caring to whether it was designated for gents or ladies.

And with a mischievous grin, he pulled you inside, pressing you against the door, and his lips fervently meeting yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

It wasn't forceful, but it was passionate and urgent, and William had no intention of holding back or waiting until you got home.

“Willy,” you gasped between kisses, but there was no room for conversation. His hands explored your body, his lips trailing along your neck, urging you to lean back against the door, granting him better access to your sensitive skin.

You could already feel the heat and anticipation between your legs, throbbing as you thought about the pleasure of his touch. Despite knowing that his teammates were just on the other side of the door and could easily hear you, you couldn't resist surrendering to him completely.

“Please, baby,” William murmured softly against your neck. “I need you…”

His deep and husky voice effortlessly persuaded you as he seductively guided your weakened body to lean against the counter, your hands supporting you while your face was right in front of the mirror with William positioned behind you.

Your eyes locked in an intense gaze through the mirror's reflection as his hands explored the curves of your ass, gliding under the slit on your thigh, skilfully manoeuvring the fabric upwards to reveal your cheeks for him.

"You look so incredible, baby," he moaned deeply, his hands caressing your rear, teasing the edge of your thong before gradually pulling it down to pool around your ankles. "Be good for me."

Your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts as he spoke to you in that seductive tone, slowly unbuckling his belt, and letting his dress trousers fall to expose his naked form underneath. Naturally, he wasn't wearing any underwear; it would only be discarded anyway.

And as you followed his every move intently, you suddenly felt his thick fingers stroking up your inner thigh, teasingly trailing through your folds, and gently massaging your sensitive flesh.

"Willy," you moaned softly, thoroughly enjoying his touch as he delicately pressed against your entrance before slowly inserting two fingers, stretching your walls while stimulating them.

"Yeah, that's it, baby, let those moans out, show me you're a good girl," his smug face appeared in the mirror before you. Just keeping your eyes open became challenging as waves of pleasure washed over you.

And William as well, was a tad eager himself.

So, instead of his usual routine of providing you a climax before his own pleasure, he felt the urge to tend to his already firm member, proudly standing between your bodies.

So, slowly retracting his fingers, he delicately positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, ensuring your comfort before easing himself into your core.

“Fuck, Willy!” you exclaimed breathlessly, momentarily forgetting the presence of people outside.

But William, content with your uncontrollable moans, simply gradually moved his hips, the intensity overwhelming for both of you, as you shared such an intimate moment outside the confines of your homes. It felt exhilarating.

In fact, it felt more than just good.

As William rocked his hips, letting his cock stimulate your walls as you coated his length with your juices, he wrapped an arm around your body, holding you close to him as he rocked his hips and began pounding into you.

It was intimate yet rough and dirty. You dress was a complete mess as the man behind you thrusted passionately, making you both warm and sweaty with every moan, filling the air with raw sex noises.

“Yes, Willy,” you panted as you felt the sense of pleasure fill your every cell. Your rational mind long gone as he kept hitting your depth, and you felt the build-up of an orgasm.

“Yes, you’re such a good girl for me… letting me fuck you like this,” he praised you with a deep, rough voice, feeling his own climax coming in with each hard thrust. 

Words and moans escaped you both as if no one was around. William didn’t bother to try and cover your both as louder sounds came out and you were unable to hold back. 

Thoughts of sticking his fingers into your sweet mouth in order to keep you silent lingered his mind, but they were quickly brushed off as he enjoyed your noises too much. 

And before long, you felt your legs tremble beneath you. Your body about to go completely numb as your climax was soon to peak and you couldn’t’ see straight any more. The image of William in the mirror began blurry, and without any form of control you tried to warn him. Clenching your walls as your moaned out loudly how you were about to come. 

“Yes, come for me,” William encouraged amidst loud sounds of skin slapping together, his hand forcefully holding onto your breast as he continued pounding, aiming to push you over the brim. 

“Fuck Willy!” you let out a loud moan, as you let the rush course over your body, feeling how your cunt almost sprayed with essence and your legs turning into jelly under him. 

And your squirming under him mad William follow suit, sooner than he anticipated as your tightening around his cock send him over as well, letting himself coat your walls with his cum, filling you up completely as his body almost collapsed onto yours. 

Moans slowly silenced, only heavy breaths leaving your bodies as you both gasped for air to refill your lungs. 

It was an intense orgasm of a kind.

A build up thrill that had been released, and it took more than a minutes before William had the strength to pull apart from you. 

“Shit…” you softly panted as you slowly came back to reality, realising just where you were and what you’d done. 

Everyone could have heard you. Being aware of what you’d been doing. 

But William was merely satisfied, flashing a big grin as he pulled up his trousers. 

“What ‘s with the smug face, Nylander?” you flashed him a cocked eyebrow in the mirror.

“Nothing,” he simply chuckled. “I’m just letting everyone know what exactly we are…” 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. This boy was just too much. But god, how much you adored him. 

As cheeky and smug he was, just as equally sweet and caring he could be. 

“Guess, we’ll have to return to the party…” you flashed him a slightly concerned smile.

“Guess we do,” William spoke softly, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, followed by him bending down, prompting you to step out of your underwear, and tucked them into his pocket. “My souvenir for the night,” he smiled, before you both returned more than satisfied to the event. 

[cuoredimuschio]

a little start of something that may end up being Something, expanding on this post about eddie teaching steve to play guitar

(3.1k - no upside down, but still set in the spring of '86)

now on ao3 | part two

---

Jenna Burke is the girl of Steve’s dreams.

Yeah, yeah, he’s made that claim before. A few times. 

About Nancy. About Robin (he was half-right that time). About a dozen girls in between.

But Jenna’s different. Jenna’s the real deal.

They haven’t even been out on a date yet, but he knows. He can tell. He can feel it in the air every time she comes in to bring back her rentals. Which she always does when he’s working. Never on Tuesday when he’s off.

And let him just say, real quick: he knows how crazy that sounds. How crazy he sounds. But there’s something there, some kind of connection that sparks every time their eyes meet, something just waiting for the right moment to happen. And honestly, he’d have to be even crazier than crazy not to be completely mad about her. 

Because she’s everything anyone could ever want. She’s everything that Steve has ever wanted, and more. Intelligent, funny, sincere, kind, movie-star cool but still firmly planted down on Earth, confident, artistic, athletic, a heavenly laugh, a knockout smile, sun-kissed freckles, hair like caramel honey, gorgeous enough to blow Phoebe Cates clear out of the water: he could go on. 

And he has. 

He’s talked Robin’s ear off about her, shift after shift after shift, until she threatened to cut his tongue out, julienne it, and feed it to her cat if she had to hear one more time about Jenna’s dimples and how the left one is just the slightest bit bigger than the right one—as if she wasn’t ten times worse when she was crushing on Vickie. Steve was once treated to an entire sermon about the way the fluorescent lights of the band hall reflected off her pearl barrette. But anyway, that’s beside the point. The point being that, threats of violence aside, even Robin’s had to admit that Jenna is—by all accounts and in every way—perfect.

There’s just one problem.

Steve is not the guy of her dreams.

She’s always flirted back with him—or at least, she’d always seemed amused by his attempts to flirt. Always met him halfway, played along and giggled at all his jokes and lame lines, definitely checked out his arms when he leaned on the counter, even twirled her hair a few times. He could’ve sworn it was all there, every sign lit up green and pointing to ‘go’. But when he’d finally laid it all on the line and asked her if he could take her out for dinner and a movie on Friday, she’d hit him with the worst eight words in the English language: you’re really sweet, but you’re not my type. 

And what is her type? Springsteen, Bon Jovi, rockstars and their wannabes, apparently.

“There’s just something about a man with a guitar,” she’d said, her sea-shine eyes dancing with starry mischief. “Drives a girl wild.”

Then, she’d taken her movie, dropped a smile and a twiddly wave over her shoulder, and swept out the door with Steve’s heart stuck to the bottom of her Keds, leaving squelchy, sappy stains on the sidewalk with every step. And that was that. A beautiful flower, nipped before it could even bud. He couldn’t even really be surprised, shouldn’t have expected anything different given his recent track record.

It wasn’t until he was locking up that night, ready to go home and wallow, chalk up another failure in the books and look for comfort at the bottom of a beer or two, that it had hit him: the obvious solution, the one she’d handed right to him, with a wink and a nudge. 

He’s not the guy of her dreams, but he could be. 

All it’d take is just one little change. And he’s more than willing to make it.

Which is why he’s now slinking back to his old stomping grounds, picking his way through the grey, gnarled trees huddled behind the track, and hoping with all he’s got that Eddie Munson didn’t get busted at some point in the last year and move to another neck of the woods. And that he’s in a generous mood.

Steve should probably explain. Because ‘obvious solution’ and ‘Eddie Munson’ don’t often belong in the same metaphorical sentence. But desperate times call for desperate measures. 

There’s just no way Steve can teach himself to play guitar. He wouldn’t even know where to start, and he’s always learned better when he has someone to watch anyway, when he can see, step by step, what he needs to do before he does it. And Munson…Still doesn’t seem like the obvious choice, granted. But he was always hanging up those messy, handmade posters for his weird band, plastering them all over the school, talking big about their gig at The Hideout every Tuesday; even though Steve had never caught one of their shows, never heard Munson play a single note, he figures if an actual bar hired them and let them keep coming back, week after week, he must be pretty good. 

Plus, with that whole rock-n-roll, long-hair-denim-and-leather thing he’s got going, he’s honestly not too far off from Bon Jovi. Steve’s not sure either party would appreciate that comparison, but the fact is, Eddie Munson is the closest thing to a rockstar that Hawkins has to offer. If he’s going to learn from anyone, Munson’s his best bet.

It’s quiet as Steve approaches the clearing—nothing but the birds squawking up in the branches and the weak crunch of the leaves under his feet. It’s so quiet, too quiet, and all wrong. Because ‘quiet’ and ‘Eddie Munson’ have never belonged in the same sentence either; they don’t even belong on the same planet. If he was here, Steve probably would have heard him before he even got out of his car. So he must’ve switched spots or maybe he’s busy with his nerdy club. This was always a pretty damn long shot, but preemptive disappointment closes around Steve’s stomach anyway.

He almost turns around. It’s a good thing he didn’t.

Because he steps out into the clearing and there Munson is: holed up at that same rotting picnic table, squatting on the bench, hunched like a gargoyle as he scribbles into an old, tattered notebook, stopping every few seconds to gnaw on the end of his pen, twisting his hair around and around his finger. It’s warm enough that he’s ditched his signature vest and jacket, thrown them down on the table and pushed his sleeves up, showing off a select few of his ghoulish collection of tattoos. Steve can hear now that his watch—the same dorky kind Dustin wears—is beeping, softly, incessantly, but Munson doesn’t seem to hear it. And he doesn’t seem to realize Steve is there either, too absorbed in whatever he’s cooking up in his notebook, mouthing something to himself over and over again.

Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Munson—”

“Fucking sh—” is all the further Munson gets before he topples; he flails, arms striking out, trying to keep his balance and save himself, but gravity wins this round, and he lands, hard, on his on his back in the dirt.

Not off to a great start. 

Steve steps forward, a hand ready to help him up, an apology brewing on his tongue, but Munson pops right back up, breezily brushing dead forest junk from his shirt. His eyes widen slightly when they land on Steve, a brow starts to twitch up, but he tosses on that smarmy, showman smile and slips into his usual act seamlessly.

“Ah, salutations, your majesty.” He doffs an imaginary cap and tucks his arm in against his stomach, bowing so deep the tips of his frizzy hair brush the leaf litter. It’s a damn shame, to have a killer mane like that and not even know how to take care of it; he clearly overwashes it and uses the exact wrong shampoo for whatever his hair type is; his curls are so limp he looks like a cocker spaniel after a night left out in the rain. “Long time, no see. To what do I owe such an auspicious honor? What brings you back to my humble shop on this fine afternoon?”

Alright, here goes nothing. 

“I need a favor,” Steve says. Short, simple, and to the point. 

That brow inches up a bit higher. “Well, unless ‘a favor’ is what the cool kids are calling an eighth these days, I regret to inform you that you’re a bit S-O-L, sire. My supply—” He raps his knuckles on top of his battered lunchbox “—ain’t what she usually is at the moment. Had a bit of a Spring Break blowout sale on Friday, everything must go, you know how it is. But…” He wedges his hands in his back pockets and sighs, as if Steve’s really busting his balls and twisting his arm here. “If you know what you want, I can try and get it for you, but I make no guarantees, and it probably won’t be ‘til next week.” His eyes pick their way up and over Steve, all the way up from his shoes, and a smirk spreads, like a fungal infection, across his lips. “Usually don’t take special orders, but I can make an exception for the king.”

He says ‘king’, but it’s pretty obvious he means something more in the realm of ‘jackass’ or ‘douchebag’. And that the offer’s not exactly coming out of the kindness of his heart. So, things aren’t boding well for Steve. 

But whatever, he doesn’t need Munson to like him; he just needs Munson to teach him. And besides, he can’t really blame him for being less than enthusiastic about helping Steve out; it’s not like he would be Steve’s first choice either, if he had a better option. Or any other option, really. The guy’s weird. And loud. And abrasive. And a lot. Not to mention, they have next to nothing in common, and he means ‘next to’ as in ‘on the negative side of’. 

“I’m not here for drugs,” he says.

Munson’s face darkens, something hardened in his eyes that almost makes him look as dangerous as concerned parents say he is. 

“Then you’re in the wrong place.” He drops back down on the bench and picks up his pen again, pulling his notebook close. “Despite what your lovely friends like to say about me, I don’t offer those kinds of services. I’m not that desperate.”

It takes a second for Steve to realize exactly which friends and which services Munson’s referring to, but when it clicks, a bucket of gooey heat dumps over his head, searing his ears and turning his stomach. “Jesus Christ, you really think I’d—No. God no. Believe me, if that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t be coming to you of all people. I wouldn’t need to.”

Munson props his chin in his palm, and now his eyes literally twinkle, catching a shard of the patchwork light that falls through the scraggly canopy, as he leers up at Steve. “Tell me, Harrington, have you ever asked somebody for a favor before? ‘Cause I gotta say, this is a unique approach.”

Right. Probably shouldn’t be insulting the guy who he’s throwing himself at the mercy of. 

If only Munson weren’t so damn good at being so damn annoying.

“Look,” Steve says, gingerly sliding onto the bench across from Munson, praying his jeans will protect him from getting a splinter up the ass, “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let me try again: you play guitar, right?”

“Yeah?” Munson narrows his eyes and slams his notebook shut before Steve can spot much more than a few choppy doodles. “What, does his majesty require entertainment for one of his soirees?”

“No, I want you to teach me.”

That brow disappears up behind his bangs. “How to tie your shoelaces or…?”

Steve pauses, takes a deep breath, pictures Jenna’s beautiful, smiling face. She’s worth it, he reminds himself, do it for her. “No,” he says again, nice and calm and level. “How to play guitar, asshole.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you know how to play and I don’t?” He’s totally doing this on purpose, being deliberately contuse or whatever the word is. And Steve can’t help himself. “I would’ve thought someone who’s been in school as long as you would understand the concept of teaching by now, but I guess maybe that explains why you still haven’t graduated.”

“Get fucked,” Munson snaps, but it’s dull, all bark and no bite, more of a reflex than anything. “I meant why do you wanna play guitar, dickhead.”

“Oh.” Yeah, okay, Steve deserved that one. He’s burning bridges, and fast, but Munson hasn’t walked away yet, which means he’s still got a shot. And he’s gonna take it. “Jenna Burke.”

He can’t even say her name without cracking a smile. That’s how he knows it’s real.

Munson is decidedly less enchanted. He twirls his pen once, twice between his fingers and starts sketching a spider web around his knuckle. “Care to elaborate?”

“I’m into her. She’s into guys who play guitar.” Steve pauses, letting that information sink in. “Can you put those pieces together on your own or do I need to spell it out for you?”

Something surprisingly bitter curls up in the corner of Munson’s mouth. He laughs, but it’s not really a laugh at all. “Nah, I hear ya, loud and clear, your majesty. And the answer to your humble request,” he says, “is no.”

Steve blinks. “What? What do you mean no?” 

He hates—a little bit, a lot—how much he sounds like a spoiled child, but this isn’t just not getting some stupid toy he wanted on Christmas; it’s potentially missing out on the love of his life. He needs this.

“I mean no,” Munson repeats, nice and slow, dragging out the ‘o’ and puckering it off. “N-O? Commonly known as the opposite of yes? As in ‘not fucking happening’?” He tilts his head to the side. “Huh, I would’ve thought somebody with a brain in their thick skull would be able to understand such a simple concept.”

Steve crosses his arms; definitely not helping himself on the ‘spoiled child’ front, but it’s the best way to stop himself from punching—or strangling—that smug smirk off Munson’s smug face. “Why not?”

“How many reasons you want? ‘Cause I can give you a few.” He sticks up his middle finger, adorned with a flying pig’s head. “One: learning guitar takes a shitton of practice, patience, and passion. It’s not something you just pick up one day to impress a chick. It’s serious shit. If you’re not doing it for the pure, honest love of the music, then you have no business even breathing in the same room as a guitar. And it’s my sworn duty as a defender of the faith to hold the line and keep the rabble—” He jabs his middle finger in Steve’s direction, in case it was unclear who the ‘rabble’ was in this scenario “—back from the gates.”

“Jesus, who do you think you are? Some kind of musical messiah?” Steve scoffs. He shouldn’t, he needs Munson on his side, but something about the guy just gets under his skin and itches. “How about you get off your fucking high horse for two seconds?”

“Hey, man, you came to me. If you wanted sympathy, you should’ve knocked on a different door. And I wasn’t finished, alright? Two,” he says, lifting his other middle finger, “I have no interest in helping you get your rocks off. I, frankly, don’t give a fuck about the state of your rocks. And call me uncharitable or inhumane or whatever you like, but I think your little fella will survive if he has to stay in your pants this one time. Three—” He raises his left pinky “—I don’t fucking want to. It may not have occurred to you, my liege, but I have better things to do than listen to you butcher Hot Cross Buns over and over again until you inevitably give up because you’ve never actually had to work for anything in your life.”

Again, Steve probably deserves that, but still. “Jesus, man, you don’t have to—” 

“And four,” Munson says, even louder. He lifts his right pinky, opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “No, actually, that pretty much covers it. So if you’re done wasting my precious time—” He pushes up from the table and sweeps his arm toward the tree line, his smile more plastic than Barbie’s “—you can kindly return to the Hell from whence you came, your majesty.”

“Munson, come on. I’m sor—”

“Buh-bye! Thanks for coming!” He turns his back, as if not being able to see Steve will make him disappear faster. “Don’t let the door kick you in the ass on the way out!”

Fuck. 

Steve blew this. 

He blew this so hard. In every way he possibly could’ve. 

But there has to be something he can say, something he can do—

“I’ll pay you,” he blurts, before his brain can catch up and think better of it.

Munson stills. Just for a second before his I-don’t-give-a-shit act kicks back in, but it’s enough. Steve knows he’s got him on the hook. Now he just has to reel him in. 

“Twenty bucks a week,” he offers, wincing even as he says it. “I just need you to teach me the basics and help me learn one song. That’s all you gotta do. And after that, we go our separate ways, and we never have to talk to each other again.”

Munson mulls that over for a second, a long second, fingers fiddling at his split ends, before he spins around. There’s something almost hungry in his eyes: the kind of hunger you see on a stray dog waiting by the dumpster behind a butcher shop. “Make it thirty.”

Two years ago, Steve wouldn’t have blinked at that number, would have forked it over happily. Now, it hurts, physically. Now, he can barely get the word past his gritted teeth, but he finds a gap and shoves it out. For Jenna.

“Done.” 

He can’t, technically, afford it. Not on his skimpy paycheck. But he’s been saving up, squirreling away whatever cash he could spare so he can put this town in his rearview someday; it’ll set him back a few months, maybe a year, but he can dip into his savings a bit, maybe pick up a few shifts to cover the extra. It’ll be fine. Jenna’s worth it. More than.

“Well, shit, Harrington.” Munson shakes his head, and he doesn’t look or sound any more enthusiastic about the whole situation—he actually looks kind of seasick—but he sticks his hand out. “I guess you’ve got yourself a deal.”

[amuseoffyre]

Also, a special shout-out to Izzy Speech

It starts with Ricky's twiddly harpsichord, then it's rapidly overcome by the Humble Wanderers theme (ie. the Blackbeard theme) only this isn't a couple of string instruments.

No. This is about belonging to something. This is backed up by all the other instruments. This is the frigging symphony. And it builds and builds and draws in little instrumental sounds from all over to come together as The Crew.

I weep for how good this soundtrack is and for the layers it adds, even if we don't consciously notice in all the action.

[spruffle]

pulp in 1978: ooh look we're in a band! :D i love love. and lighthouses. and girls. i want to be with a woman some day

pulp in 1987: [offtempo guitar] HELP RUSSELL IS SCARING ME [wobbly production] HE WON'T STOP STARING AT ME

pulp in 1992: ooh yeah we found what bass is, disco babeh! disco babeh! ohhh hrhhghh hhhhh i'm ssorry that your gran died BUT. i wanna shag ya

pulp in 1994: [breathily] ohhh. oh you wanna have sex with me. have sex with me. don't sleep with him, sleep with me. candida press more keys. ooh yeah russell do the twiddly bits. i'm in heat

pulp in 1995: OH WE'RE WORKING CLASS AND WE MADE IT, DOMESTIC INTERIORS ARE MY FAVOURITE, WE'RE THE BEST WE'RE THE BEST, I AM REALLY GOOD AT SEX

pulp in 1998: [sad bowie voice] i'm really bad at sex. i wish i'd never had sex. [small glowy guitar] existence is pain. [portishead synth] i'm a pervert.

pulp in 2001: ooh look there are chaffinches... [acoustic guitar] check out the chaffinches...

[cuprohastes]

What is this Hu-man thing you call Gen-Dar?

The Station administrators pulled Dave the Human in for a little meeting.

"On a scale of one to immediately calling my Union Rep, how much have you found out about?" Asked Dave, a man who who could be described as exceedingly unproblematic.

The human admin, Eoin O'Patel perked up. "We have a Union?" He asked with interest. "Who's the rep?"

"It's Un-Named Male. I didn't tell him yet."

"Oh..." said O'Patel, disappointed. "No, no. Well I mean, you're not in trouble, we just want you to cause some."

Dave shot a look at the Atrix Administrator, Don't Make Me Come Down There. Ma for short.

Ma gave Dave a thumbs up. Well OK.

"Sooo...?" Said Dave sitting up, because things were about to be Interesting.

Dave The Human, Garf and Un-Named Male were in the Caf, examining the stack of "Unions and how to Start One" leaflets that had been delivered to Un-Named Male when Dave sauntered in, in brand new overalls: Specifically Atrix overalls, tailored to size, including one of the armbands that are usually covered in badges.

Garf looked bemused and flickered several colours and patterns.

Un-named male said "Graaaaak..."

Dave The Human didn't say anything because she was stuffing her face.

"No it's not cultural appropriation actually. As of today, by special permission of O'Patel and Ma, I am officially an Atrix." Dave said and posed. "Just for a week. I'm moving into that spare room on the Atrix deck. Ma reckons it'll make keeping the moss alive easier."

"Seems a bit extra for some moss gardening." Dave The Human said, licking her claws.

"Oh no. It just turned out to be handy. See, the Station is getting a visit from a certain bunch of pointy heads from a nation that dare not breathe it's name in polite society and we merry three... four, sorry Un-Named, are getting to play with them."

"Oooh!" Said Dave The Human. "This gon' be good."

Interview 1

The first interview performed by Pinkerton Finke put him in a sour mood. He was a congressionally appointed official, on an important fact finding tour - Facts that supported the narrow world view of his employers, naturally - And he felt he was due some respect.

He said as much to his assistant, Loris. Good girl, very competent, possibly worth keeping on when her looks started to go, he thought.

Loris looked over that the other seat across the desk, upon which was sitting a large scaled individual. They had two long arms with three claws, and two smaller arms tucked up into a front pocket, a ludicrously long neck and shiny black button eyes just in front of a pair of soft ears - Possibly the only thing soft bout them. They appeared to have a set of scales that moved in unsettling ways and were painted in tacky colours.

"Is that... Nail polish?"

The creature noddes. "Pinking of you." It said. Loris wrote that down and Finke seethed at the irrelevance.

"You are... a... a Tuh-sin?" He said clearly and slowly.

The creature stared back dumbly then said "No? I'm human."

Finke looked down at his notes. The first interviewee was listed as Dave. Obviously Loris had added 'The human' for him. Idiot girl. Of course someone called Dave was human.

"I think you're in the wrong room. I'm waiting for someone called David."

"Nah mate. It's Dave, innit? Dave The Human. 'S me."

Finke felt his blood pressure going up. "No I'm supposed to interview one of the technical staff, from the human contingent posted here on matters of..."

The creature held up a hand. "Yer. 'S me. Dave The Human. 'Cos I'm officially human like, and I'm class three for some of the really twiddly bits of the life support. Real twiddly. So what's the craic?"

Loris slid her tablet over showing that for some deranged reason, the creature was indeed listed as Dave The Human and on the payroll as officially human.

"Jesus ffff... OK. I'm inquiring as to the attitudes to gender conformity on this place. It has come to the attention of some very highly placed people that attitudes are somewhat lacking in moral fibre. So tell me... David, if you understand the proper, moral stance on gender."

"Oh wot? Pff. Easy mate. Marriage is one Big Guy, Two small guys, two small women and a Big Lass to yell at them all to wash their claws. Don't worry, if you ain't got enough small women, just get extra small guys, they'll switch over after a few months."

Finke slowly went red in the face, and for some reason this prompted the Dave creature to pull out a small fruit and put it carefully on the desk. "Here y'go. OK, got stuff to do. Nice meetin' ya." He said and ambled out.

Interview 2

"Ok next up is an Atrix. Phalanges Mitten." Said Loris.

A human walked in, dressed as an Atrix and sat down.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke?" Finke said.

"Nope, said Phalanges Mitten, definitely an Atrix who looked a lot like Dave the Human. "Tell you what, want to speak to the community leader for the Atrix population?"

Finke thought about it. "Very well." He said and Phalanges yelled, "GARF YOU'RE UP!" Without getting up.

A two meter tall purple dinosaur shouldered her way in and leaned back on her short tail. "Hey Phalanges. Having... an issue?"

Finke stared up. Christ they're a lot bigger than he'd assumed.

"Yeah, Fink here says i'm not Atrix enough." He said and Garf tutted. "Well Station Admin checked with the homeworld and I'm empowered to act as ambassador pro-tem, and I can tell you Phalanges has the support of the Atrix." She said smoothly.

Finke could feel a headache coming on. "Very well... I'm inquiring as to the attitudes to gender conformity on this place. It has come to the attention of some very highly placed people that attitudes are somewhat lacking in moral fibre. So tell me... Phalanges, if you understand the proper, moral stance on gender."

Phalanges sniffed. "Oh sure. There's only the one. Size."

Finke stared. Phalanges stared back. Garf ate a sandwich. Loris made a strangled sound that Finke couldn't hear over the sound of his blood pressure rising.

"Are you..." he started and Phalanges talked over him.

"Simple. You start out small and you do the best you can and then you get bigger and you do the best for others, and in between if you feel like fertilising an egg when you're small or producing one when you're bigger, well that's nobody's business, but there's somethings that are easier when you have more body mass."

Finke went with his first reaction. "Bullshit."

And so Garf flipped up the flap on her coveralls stuffed both hands in and hauled a purple iguana in a hawaiian shirt out and dumped him on the desk.

Finke shrieked and the lizard said "Grak!"

"What the hell?" He asked. "If this is your pet..."

Phalanges inhaled sharply. "Ooh. I wouldn't..."

"...Kid?"

"That's my husband." Said Garf in tones that made the room's heating elements click in.

"He's an adult." Said Phalanges.

The iguana, made a modulated grackling noise, and Phalanges said "He said, 'That makes four of us'. Ooh, burn."

Finke glared at the lizard who stared back and changed colour. He wondered how much trouble there would be if he swatted it.

"The thing is, Fink, we know who you are, what you represent, and you've showed up on a station where most of the humans aren't from your nation, and over half of everyone isn't even from Earth. None of us are planning on subscribing to your views, or supporting them. And if you had the wit of it, you'd never have come. But here you are, on the station, with little to no actual authority, nosing around and trying to recruit..."

Finke felt a cold flush.

"... And so you get to go back and climb under your rock. Loris? Your contract came through. "

"What?" Gasped Finke. "Contract? See here, she's my..."

Loris slapped him on the back of the head with a tablet, saying "That was always your problem. You thought I was yours." Then she dropped the tablet on the desk and walked out.

Finke looked down at it in shock where the words "I Quit" were scrawled across it, already planning what he was going to do to tht snip of a... and... Oh crap. He slapped a hand over the table and flipped it over before anyone saw what else was on it, just in time for the iguana to hand him a subpoena with a smug "Grak".

"You've been served mate." Said Phalanges. "Your ass backward views are the least of your worries. You really should have been nicer to the woman who handles your dirty secrets."

"Why Dave?" Asked Ma.

O'Patel looked at the service record for Dave, which showed the name Dave being added to the record about three months after Dave's arrival. He didn't look further. No need to look at deadnames.

"Oh you know. No ties to that country. No blowback if things get nasty." He said. "I hope there was no trouble form Homeworld?"

"Mm. No. Central rather enjoyed the idea I think. As for Phalanges, he... officially She I suppose... has been fine, though we'd like him out of the Atrix section before the lighting cooks his eyes. It's a lot higher UV and I know that's harder for Human eyes to deal with. But between you and I and Garf's recomendation, if Dave ever defects, we might go as far as finding him a little guy."

O'Patel chuckled indulgently. "If he ever feels like he needs to defect, I'll help him pack." He said. "Talking of which I hear the new PA is doing quite well." He added shooting a look toward where Loris was flirting with the big female everyone called Dave.

----

Ok that's it. I actually have three drafts of this that didn't pan out.

If you liked it, comment, because I love getting comments!

[carol-the-clown]

In My Folly A Lack Of Jolly

Oh I lost a loved one

How silly of me

Twiddly dee believe me

Accidents happen, can't you see?

It isn't my fault that I lost the baby..

Oh how I miss her sweet laugh and smile..

How can I make it up for the while?

Oh I know, I know well!

We need to open up our wishing well!

Oh I wish for a place, a happy place..

With funtime and playtime everyday

Everything she loved and wanted from me

Oh I know!

A circus! A circus!

Every child's best memory

To keep hers alive

When her heart still beating and breathing

I'm sorry little one but I'll make things right

Tweedly dee how happy she'd be!

Here with me and I with her..

As you love me, I to you.

The truest love, what I say to you

So goodnight little one enjoy your sleep

Wait for the day I will join you

And never forget how much I love you.

[sasukesun]

A while ago I saw a tweet on twt made by a sns fan that said "everything post 698 was naruto falling out of love with sasuke and falling in love with hinata" and a bunch of sns fans agreed and were like "omg the angst!!!" I think they were all multi shippers who like nh too or they just like hinata and I couldn't help but laugh and get pissed off at the same time bc there's no fucking WAY that would ever happen. And going from sasuke to h*nata is a BIIIIIGGGG downgrade for naruto like I'm sorry that's just sad how can you fumble SASUKE UCHIHA only to end up with little miss twiddly thumbs 😭 that's why I hate multi shippers

yeah i don’t trust multishippers in naruto fandom, they clearly haven’t understood the narrative. everything post 698 is naruto falling more in love with sauske and being forced towards hinata.

[funkyyogrrt]

TWIDDLY NIDDLY GUY AAAAAAAA

Ok @jellimoria enjoy

CHARACTER BELONGS TO @creaturefeaster @chickenstab

[lycomorpha]

This morning's warm-up doodle. Cell-ish shapes using a D6 to pick the rough form of each imaginary blorb. Doing 1 or 2 a day bc twiddly ink drawing is still harder than pencil, for various chronic pain reasons.

& I'm still buying an 18-month diary in the sale when 6 months are already out of date, & using the past to pages for warm-up doodles... This one is still quite fresh and tidy but not for loooong lol ✏️💖📓

[girlreviews]

Review #287: Mr. Tambourine Man, The Byrds

I was four years old when I heard The Byrd’s version of Mr. Tambourine Man on the radio and asked my Mom what it was. She knew the name but not the artist. I constantly asked to listen to Mr. Tambourine Man after that. It just cast a spell over me. It was so gorgeous! I hadn’t ever heard anything like this! Okay so I hadn’t heard a lot of stuff when I was four but I still knew when something was magical when I heard it.

But you know, it was like 1992, and you couldn’t just easily listen to whatever song you wanted whenever you wanted (my God how did I function?). So eventually, after little success of actually getting to listen to it, I gave up asking and became obsessed with some other song and largely forgot about it.

And that’s pretty much how it stayed until I was 18 or 19 and got really really into Bob Dylan. Really into Bob Dylan. Obnoxiously into Bob Dylan. My teenage brain had no room for both The Byrds and Bob Dylan to be incredible and legendary — which of course they are — so my natural inclination was to disown my earlier love of The Byrds version and forever commit myself to Bob Dylan’s original, and Bob Dylan’s original ONLY. Why? Because!!!!!!!!!

So two weeks before I leave for college, I’m having a tonsillectomy. Which isn’t ideal. But that’s what we’re doing. I’m on a ward with three old ladies. This is what I remember from this hospital stay:

One: When I was awoken from my surgery, barely conscious from anesthesia, the nurses told me I had to briefly wake up to move from the surgery bed to my ward bed. I had my eyes closed but I was responsive. They kept saying “come on girlreviews, all you have to do is stay awake long enough to move beds”. I said to them “after I move beds, can I go back to sleep?” And they said “yes, of course you can”, to which I replied “this is the happiest moment of my life”. And it was. I could sleep peacefully without any fear or disruption with nobody I knew around. I never had felt so relaxed. I think about this all the time.

Two: They woke me up every two hours to make me drink tea and eat toast, which I also had no complaints about. During one of these intervals, a man was at my bedside that had a very calm and comforting demeanor. He ran the hospital radio station and asked me if I had a song I’d like to hear. I emphatically said “Mr. Tambourine Man, but the BOB DYLAN version!”, and then I was glued to that radio station until the moment I was discharged. Can you imagine how salty I was when he played The Byrds version? It makes me laugh now, because I definitely prefer it again. My four year old self was so much wiser than my sulky teenage mind.

I actually listened to this record a few months ago and was surprised to recognize another song I knew. I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better, made known to be by Tom Petty. The thing about The Byrds is how they didn’t enjoy the same success, or, magnitude of success as some of their peers even though they’re really responsible for creating entire genres. And their influence is just, immeasurable. I hear in this record a never ending list of records that wouldn’t exist without it. Too many to name. The vocal harmonies, twiddly guitar, and gentle percussion are what captivated me when I was four years old and it’s pretty clear that I was not the only one. It feels like a life reaffirming cup of tea when you’re hungover. That second sleep. That shower where you emerge feeling like a new person and everything’s about 37% funnier. What’s better than that? Other than not being hungover to begin with. Sometimes you gotta ride the Dao, though, you know?

[em0sket]

i would kill it as a polyamorous bisexual man who’s into steampunk and gothic clothes with a twiddly moustache and long hair with round glasses and a walking stick