thinking about garrus and shepard in me1, talking late at night over weapon-cleanings or mako repairs when shepard can’t sleep. garrus, the idealistic rookie who wants nothing more than to protect, and shepard, the closest thing to a guiding light he’s stumbled upon
thinking about garrus and shepard in me2, finding companionship in one another after their individual struggles. garrus, weighed down by the lives of the people who trusted him, and shepard, still lost and out-of-place in a world that kept going without her
thinking about garrus and shepard in me3, seeking each other out in moments of solace when the war seems bleak and never-ending. shepard, who keeps pushing herself to do the impossible, and garrus, who just wants to be the light that guides her back home
Reaper keeps trying to send Soldier 76 secret messages via call-in song requests to a radio station they used to like to listen to.
Soldier 76 has zero idea this is going on for months because he rides motorcycles everywhere and doesn’t have a car stereo.
(It’s a point of contention when he finally hears the song in a laundromat or something and figures out where to meet up with Gabe “35 YEARS WE’RE FRIENDS and you honestly thought I’d be driving around in a car?? Why do you think I own seven nearly identical moto jackets?”)
Outside in the storm, hair damp and dripping in their cars. The stereo turned up all the way. They're driving to their Nans house. This trip make sure she has her favorite kind of ginger snaps for the cold weather.
Umbrella and rubber boots walking through puddles. They have their fuzzy socks on for such weather. In their hand is a notebook. Headphones tucked in only one ear as they make their way to a cafe.
Despite their yellow house color rain is their favorite. Sitting under an overhang as the rain taps on the roof. Earlier in the day they sent out to buy rosemerry bread from their favorite bakery. Later they'll accompany a very old friend and talk about warmer feelings than the weather.
On these damp days the cuinning slytherin lays around the house. They'll play scrabble with their Mum and make stew with a great aunt. They try not to check social media as much as possible. But their Dad will make fun of them for it.
Okay but, stick with me here, what if Clint Barton’s junker of a car (”Have you seen my life? Why the hell would I waste money on something that’ll be blown up before next tuesday??) finally craps out on him so he hits the local places to scout out a new car he can care for and become overly attached to. He finds this super cool looking (but dirty and dented in a few places, but it has great bones!) car. Yeah it’s yellow, but he can fix that later. It has these cool stripes that almost look like arrows.
Clint’s friends all generally lovingly mock his newest project, but it rolls of his back because who doesn’t mock the ones you love? And he’s really enjoying the new car,that puppy had an amazing engine under the hood and Clint is a huge fan of running away faster than the bad guys, when the time right anyway. The one thing he can’t quite get right is the radio, it’s finicky and jumpy but always manages to play exactly the music he’s in the mood for, so whatever.
The weekend before he starts the research into repainting a car (or just paying someone else to do it, believe it or not Clint doesn’t actually want to be completely purple, skin included, no matter WHAT Natasha or Kate might imply and let’s face it, his life has a way of… well, he’s probably gonna pay someone to paint the car, let’s leave it at that) and a Thing Happens.
Truthfully, being kidnapped by his own car who brings him to meet OTHER cars (and one really bitchin truck rig with awesome flames on its sides) that CAN SPEAK isn’t actually anywhere near the top ten of weird shit that happens to Clint. Optimus is a bit of a talker, sometimes, but Clint finds himself making a tank cry with laughter so it’s all good.
There’s a lost weekend (maybe week, it got blurry in the middle) but Clint reappears on a Tuesday, driving into the parking lot of Stark Tower. He’s got a nose bandage, an air cast, a black eye and maybe some bruised ribs. The car he’s driving (bumble bee and Clint may be planning on looking up those cool blue bees as part of the Purple Would Look Great On You argument) looking slightly worse for wear. The guy at the junkyard assured him that bumbles would heal himself as long as there was a high metallic diet and Clint plans on enticing stark for that particular meal, god knows what that man has hidden away. But currently Bumble bee is missing a headlight, has his bumper being held on with duct tape and a chain, one wheel is slightly deflated giving his driving the appearance of a sad limp and on the slightly dented hood, the black pattern now shows the front end of two arrows that follow the length of the car and end in fletching over the trunk.
As he pulls in past the the rest of the avengers, the car stereo starts blasting “Princes of the Universe” by queen and Clint just leans back in the seat, hands behind his head, thinking, ‘this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’
The Most Stereotypical Thing Each MBTI Type I Know Has Done
INTP: as a child he electrocuted/shocked random objects with a cut up extension cord in his parent’s basement because he was curious about what would happen
ENTP: *trying to figure out how to apply makeup with female INTP* “I don’t think I inherited the ‘girl knowledge gene’ with my second x chromosome”
INFP: Contacted their friend at 2:30 AM to tell them how much they are appreciated and loved. Was sobbing because they felt like no one would understand how much they cared.
ENFP: Was interested in the solar eclipse. Was reminded by INTP when to watch it and when it would occur. Got distracted on the day of the eclipse and ended up missing it. Then questioned INTP if it really happened because they noticed it was bright outside the entire day.
INFJ: *Playing Cards Against Humanity* “I have no idea what any of these cards mean…”
ENFJ: Attempted to manipulate my friend by being overly “nice” and “sweet” to him and by going up and hugging him randomly. Was just jealous because he paid me more attention than her (who has guys following her around because of her looks)
INTJ: Enjoys advanced physics classes but begs INFJ to kill them and put them out of their misery at a high school dance
ENTJ: *Is a high school band teacher* “I don’t care if people like me or not. I have no need for admiration. The only thing I care about is that I build a relationship with the students so they listen to me.”
ISTP: Kept on showing me tractor/farming memes at my Mom’s funeral despite my disinterest in them
ESTP: *At a waterpark looking at upside-down water slides with INTP* “I just go on these things without thinking about the physics of them. If I do think too long about it, then I end up worrying that something might go wrong… Let’s go on the biggest slide over there next!”
ISFP: Was so obsessed with music in high school that he bought a car stereo cassette player cheap from some shady people. Later went out on a date with a girl who told him, “That really looks like my sister’s stereo that was stolen from her car a few months ago.”. Got rid of stolen stereo.
ESFP: Dressed up in a neon lime green bunny suit on an eighty degree day and danced on the side of a busy highway
ISFJ: gets mistaken for being a nun when eating at McDonald’s
ESFJ: *is a school guidance counselor who called me into her office to talk about my mom’s death* “I know you don’t like hugs but you are getting one anyway”
ISTJ: During a color guard music/dance performance they stopped to straighten and neatly fold their flag while the other people just threw their flags messily on the ground
ESTJ: Argued with the teacher for the whole class period about due date of an assignment
Friends With Benefits: Bill Skarsgard... Chapter 3 (NSFW)
The next day we set out together, it was pretty early, around 6am.
Bill was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the centre console.
“I hate this job sometimes, can’t be dealing with these early starts.” He yawned, running a hand down his face.
I laughed to myself, glancing out the window as we drove down the highway towards the location, which happened to be a large warehouse in LA, where both of us resided.
“You literally sound like a sixteen year old boy, when infact you’re twenty six and still moaning like a little bitch.”
Bill turned to glare at me momentarily before focusing on the road ahead, with a small pout on his lips.
“I woke up a whole hour before you, made us both coffee, sat and watched you put your face on, and then proceeded to carry your heavy ass make up kit down three flights of stairs.” He exclaimed, only causing me to laugh louder.
“I think you’ll find you also woke me up at the same time because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
Bill chuckled too, grinning at the thought of this mornings activities.
“Wanna stop for a quick coffee? I’ll literally fall asleep on set if we don’t and if you’re doing my make up, I don’t want any mistakes from you dozing off.” He joked, biting his lip at me.
I nodded, his comment recieving another roll of the eyes from myself. We definitely needed coffee if we were hoping to conquer a 12 hour day, with hardly any breaks.
Bill grinned in triumph, knocking up the stereo in the car.
I raised my eyebrows at what was playing, his phone was connected to the car.
“Dirty dancing? Really?”
“What? It’s a brilliant film, Patrick Swayze was almost as good at acting as me!”
“You’re so up your own backside.” I chortled.
Bill continued to drive down the highway until we reached a Starbucks, it was located around 20 minutes from the set and we had about forty minutes to spare.
He threw his Ray Ban wayfarers on his face, opening the door of his black volvo XC60 for me, taking my hand and helping down from the vehicle.
“You know, you’re gonna be in shit if you do things like that for me and you get papped. They’ll post the pictures and people will start thinking we’re dating, when it couldn’t be further from that.” I commented, grabbing my wallet and also throwing my sunglasses on.
“Let people speculate.” He shrugged, locking the car.
I shook my head at his careless attitude, the last thing we needed was gossip clouding our names.
I pulled my biker jacket closer to my body, it was getting colder here, with it being mid October.
Starbucks was pretty empty, seeing as it with still early, so Bill and I basically had the place to ourselves.
He paid for my vanilla latte and for his americano, we took a booth towards the back of the shop, removing both our sunglasses.
“Why are you wearing all black? You literally look like you have a date with a satanic cult.” Bill playfully said, sipping his coffee.
“You’re a fucking asshole and this is my uniform, you know that.” I retorted, looking down at my dark attire that consisted of a black biker jacket, black long sleeved t-shirt that was distressed, skin tight black jeans and some converse. The only piece of colour happened to be my gold Michael Kors watch, which Bill had gotten me for my 20th birthday two months ago.
“What time do you think we’ll be done today?” Bill yawned once again.
“Not until atleast six or seven tonight.” I sighed, taking the last gulp of my coffee.
“Kevin seems like he has a right stick shoved up his ass, treats everyone like shit.” He muttered, placing his empty paper cup down on the wooden table.
Kevin was the director of a new TV show that Bill had a main role in, he had a very distasteful personality and somedays you honestly just wanted to punch him in the face. Luckily, they had almost finished filming the show and it only had a few more scenes before it could be wrapped up and edited.
I glanced at my watch, cringing at the time.
“We need to go, I don’t want Kevin on our backs.” I groaned, sitting up from my chair and stretching, Bill did the same, throwing back on his sunglasses as did I.
The rest of the journey was peaceful, with the sound of quiet music and the slight echoing of Bill’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
Bill pulled into his designated space on the set and I could tell he was mentally preparing himself for the long, hard day ahead, because so was I.
He helped me get my make up kit out of his car, placing it on the floor and pulling the handle up, ready for me to pull along onto set.
“You two! Get ready, filming starts in an hour! Mya, I need you to get started on extras make up, let’s go!” And with the demands of Kevin who had just spotted us, we shot eachother a look.
“You better go, or you’ll be late for your date with darkness.” Bill commented, motioning to my outfit again.
“I swear to god, I will floor you.”
“How about you floor me at say… lunch time? Perhaps in my trailer…” He smirked.
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head and grabbing my kit, walking away without another word to Bill.
The morning passed by slower than I’d have liked, all I wanted was some food and a nice, cold glass of water.
It had been non stop already, Kevin had completely underestimated the amount of make up and hairstylists he’d need, I’d done nothing all morning but top up extras make up and run around after Kevin.
I hadn’t really had the chance to speak to Bill, he’d messaged me a few times while he’d had the chance but they were only silly texts and him begging me to meet him at his trailer come lunch.
And when lunch came I knew he expected nothing but for me to meet him inside the cramped, white trailer.
I was completely right and without knocking I let myself in, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I barely had time to get my bearings before long arms had wrapped around me and full lips were on mine.
Everyone about the encounter was urgent, Bills hands were all over me, pushing my biker jacket off while my hands fought to pull his tight t-shirt over his head.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all morning, you have no idea how hard it’s been to hide this permanent boner.” He spoke between kisses, pulling my top over my head and hastily unbuttoning my jeans, shoving a hand down my underwear.
I let out a throaty moan, the feeling of ultimate pleasure cursing through my veins.
Bill stopped his handy work down my pants to yank my jeans down my legs and I helped him by kicking my converse off and taking my jeans off the rest of the way while Bill all but ripped his constricting jeans off too.
What we were about to do seemed pretty hard while being stood up in a cramped trailer, so Bill moved us over to the couch, pulling me onto his lap.
I straddled him, a leg on either side of his lap. His eager hands explored my whole body, they weaved through my hair, down my chest to my breasts where he quickly removed my bra, his mouth attacking my nipples as I slyly ground against him, only our underwear separating us.
His hands were running up and down my back and I admit that he shocked me when he gently but forcefully grabbed my hair and exposed my throat to him, sucking hard and causing me to gasp, he was there way longer than he should have been and I pulled back.
“You fucker! You’ve left a mark, haven’t you!” I exclaimed, my hand going to my throat.
Bill let out a loud laugh, exposing his pearly teeth to me in a cheeky grin.
“It’s not fucking funny, Bill! I told you not to, now people are gonna start talking behind my back!”
“Chill, Mya. Nobody’s gonna talk about you and if they do fuck them, at least it’ll keep the guys away.” He smirked, moving my hand and attaching his lips to my neck again.
I threw my head back, completely mesmerised by the feeling of his soft lips trailing up my jawline and to my ear, where he nipped. The enjoyment only spurred me to grind harder and faster against him, and his hands moved to grip my hips in a tight lock.
“I swear I’ll finish in my boxers if you keep doing that.” He warned, flipping us over so rapidly that it took my breath away.
My bare back was pressed against the cold leather of the couch, while Bill held himself up over me.
He knew we didn’t have much time so briskly pushed his boxers down just enough for his erection to spring out and shoved my lace thong to the side before shoving himself into me.
We both let out a raspy moan as he started moving, I gripped at his shoulders with my nails digging into his pale flesh and wrapped one leg around his waist, my bare foot touching the cool skin at the back of his thigh.
I was on a complete high and my body was tingling all over, I was in utter bliss.
Well, that was until three sharp knocks banged against the unsettlingly weak door of the trailer.
Bill’s whole body tensed up and he ceased moving, my heart was practically beating out of my chest at the thought of getting caught in such a compromising situation.
“Mr Skarsgard! You’re needed on set, sorry to cut your lunch break short!” The male voiced sounded from behind the door, knocking twice more.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He growled, eyes dark with a mix of lust and anger.
“Mr Skarsgard, are you there?!”
“Yes! Give me five minutes!” Bill all but snarled back, he gritted his teeth and neither of us moved until we knew whoever it was had gone.
Bill awkwardly managed to remove himself from me, pulling his boxers back up and I adjusted my underwear myself, doing my bra up with shaking hands.
“Do you think he knew what we were doing?” I wondered, biting my lip as I watched him pull his jeans back up his skinny legs.
“I don’t care if he did.” Bill mumbled, shoving his shirt back on and just about managing to put his hair back in place.
We both managed to finish getting dressed in record time, checking each other over before unlocking the door.
Before I had the chance to open the door, Bills hands grabbed my face and he placed a hard, long kiss on my lips.
He leant his forehead against mine, breathing heavily.
“Stay at mine tonight? I’m just really in the mood for a cuddle and a movie, obviously pizza too, just like we always have.”
I nodded and smiled, causing him to erupt into a satisfied grin too.
He pecked my forehead and proceeded to open the door, just as I hurried to cover my neck with my hair.
“I’ll see you later, meet me at my car.” Bill ordered, nodding to me before shoving his hands into his pockets and wondering off back to filming, leaving me stood there.
I bit my lip.
What had I gotten myself into?
Hey! Another day, another chapter. I’m really enjoying writing this and the lovely comments from you just spurs me on. I apologise this is only a short one and i just want to clarify there probably will be smut in most chapters but I promise I’ll get the story across as best I can without being a horny fuck.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Word Count: 3.3k+ Warnings: Fluff, kissing, angst A/N: This was based on the five words that @spiderparkerboy sent in: “Peter, music, trees, chapstick, handwriting” (that’s why they’re bolded in the story). I was originally going to just do a blurb but then got so invested it morphed into this three-thousand word monster. THANKS FOR REQUESTING THIS <33 I loved writing it so, so, so, so much ;) Artist listened to while writing this: Daughter (I think I might start doing this because I’m quickly realizing that the music I listen to while I write changes my style, so listen along if you wanna feel the same stuff I was feeling ha)
Your head swung to the rhythm of the song, your mouth parted into a smile. The bottom of the windshield held home to a soft frost; small tendrils of ice crept their way up the glass, brought upon by the chill of the air outside. You had always loved winter, despite the weather. The feeling of seeking warmth through a cup of coffee or hot chocolate was the perfect experience and you got the excuse to wear the fuzzy pajama bottoms you loved so much.
Ridiculed today as the essence of obsolescence, the clunky, primitive 8-track tape brought about a social change of the same magnitude as the epochal Supreme Court decisions and the counterculture movement of the 1960s.
The 8-track tape, introduced in 1965, consisted of an endless loop of standard ¼-inch magnetic tape, housed in a plastic cartridge. On the tape were eight parallel soundtracks, corresponding to four stereo programs. Although it was developed by Learjet for aviation playback, the technology became an instant success when auto makers began installing tape decks in cars. Prior to the 8-track tape, music playback at home was limited to vinyl records, expensive reel-to-reel decks and the radio,and, in the car, to AM radio only. The easy-to-use, self-activating decks and small, lightweight cartridges for the first time allowed the driver, and not the radio station, to choose the music, thus insuring the format’s success. The popularity of the system encouraged the rapid development of 8-track tape components for home stereos, capable of recording and playback, making it possible for listeners to access their music on a single, portable format, at home and in the car. With its ease of use and flexibility, the 8-track tape quickly overtook the sale of large, heavy, fragile,vinyl records, to become the largest segment of the retail music market in the early 1970s.
To be sure, 8-track tapes had their drawbacks. While the self-playing, endless-loop required no attention while driving, it could not be fast-forwarded, rewound or cued, only played through. To hear a certain song, one had to listen the entire track. Fitting the 10-12 songs of an album into the tape’s four 10-minutes segments meant that the track order of vinyl recordings was not respected (a huge problem for albums without breaks between tracks like Dark Side of the Moon or clear narratives like Tommy). The most egregious offense was the sometimes-unavoidable splitting of longer songs between two tracks, which entailed a fade-out mid-song, a long silence followed by the tape head (loudly) shifting to the next track and then a fade-in to the rest of the song. Serious audiophiles and fans stuck with vinyl.
Inferior in sound quality but capable of rewinding and allowing for a kind of random access, cassette tapes replaced 8-tracks in the early 1980s. While the tapes are now emblems of the past-ness of the 1970s, the 8-track inaugurated the era of portability, multi-platform capability, and, most importantly, personal choice in music–the basic functionalities we expect all devices to provide. Modern consciousness radically differs from that of even 50 years ago because we now have life-long, always available, highly-personalized soundtracks running constantly and shaping our days. We may have different equipment but we still inhabit the 8-track conceptual framework.
Professor John Winchester and his girl tease each other in more ways than one.
Series Masterlist Warnings: Smutty smut smut- the usual plus role play and restraints. And lots of fluff. WC: 6972 On AO3 Gifs aren’t mine; I made the other additions.
A/N: I got really creative with this part. Hope you like it! Thanks to the awesome followers of this story; all of your great feedback and love has made this a joy to write.
Law and Order. Real Housewives. CNN. I sighed as I flipped through the channels on my TV. I was bored. I’d done homework for hours, was off work for the night, and all of my friends were busy studying. And for the fifth night in a row, my boyfriend was out of town at a college educator’s conference.
garrosh would be a bad friend. like he would be a really shit tier bad friend just all around. like youd start to tell him about your feelings and your uncertainty about the future and he would just immediately cut you off and start talking about himself and how he doesnt understand why people peel string cheese when you can just take bites of it, do those people keep peeling the banana after it’s off the same way they eat their string cheese, how come people dont just eat it like a normal thing? and so you clam up and stop talking about whatever sad shit you were tryin to say because obviously he doesnt give a shit and he goes back to playing video games on the couch and yelling at the tv. but then one day youre shit out of luck and it’s like 2am on a tuesday and you know for a fact he’s awake, he answers his phone immediately, he calls you at 2:08AM on a tuesday even though you texted him first, probably so he could hear the sound of his own voice, and he tells you he’s coming over, probably so he has an excuse to drive his huge truck above the speed limit on the empty streets, and when he gets to your place he calls you (again) even though you texted him that it’s late and you can’t talk right now to “come outside” and you have to climb into his big shitty truck close to three in the morning in your pajamas while he eats drive-thru tacos and listens to bad music on his car stereo with the blown out bass crackling. he doesnt even drive around, he just sits there parked with you in the car and talks about how this band, this multi-billion dollar platinum record-selling forty years and counting band, is so underappreciated and people just dont know good music anymore when they hear it. and you sit there eating nasty tacos with him and listening to the full fifty four interminable minutes of master of puppets beneath the sound of him complaining about the way call of duty’s prestige system skews the actual skill level of the players. but then the cd finally makes it to the last track (there’s no aux mini jack in his truck since it was his dad’s old truck but he “fixed it up”) and youre sitting there with grease all over your face as damage inc breaks from the intro and then you start crying uncontrollably while james hetfield screams his fucking brains out and garrosh actually turns it off to tell you to stop it. and then he goes “at least i’m here, aren’t i?” as if it actually makes a fucking difference, like he wants some fuckin credit for doing the absolute bare minimum, but all you do is say “yeah” and wipe your face with a scratchy napkin. “i better get some sleep” you say and he goes “yeah” and you slip out of his jacked-up truck and neither of you say anything else but you can hear the first few strums of battery rattling his windows as he drives away listening to the same fucking cd again. three hours later you jump out of your skin from dead sleep to a snapchat notification. garrosh has sent you a picture of a small 7-11 coffee with nearly a fistful of empty caramel flavor shots discarded beside it. there is no caption