#flop hudson | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuiyla · 1 year

Note

does finchel ever affect your feelings for Rachel? cause i've been thinking on how much Rachel kind of annoys me in S3-4 and I think it's a LOT to do with her looking the other way when it comes to what a jackass her bf is. I feel like it may even be something the writers were conscious of because she's sort of conveniently missing/silent during things like Finn freaking out during S3 prom or when Finn outs Santana. It's like some part of them must KNOW he's wrong, or at least that an in-character Rachel would likely be horrified, so they just kind of avoid the issue.

i mean, Finchel also sucks just for being generally co-dependent and boring as hell in S3-4, but that mostly just made me dislike them as a pairing, not actually side-eye Rachel as an individual character. Whomst amongst us hasn't been hung up on a loser at some point in time? Being hung up on a guy who has deliberately hurt multiple people you consider your friends though? I have less empathy.

You know, that is an excellent question. And the answer is... kinda, yeah.

Funnily enough I'd say it was more annoying to me when rewatching seasons 1 and 2 rather than 3 and 4. I'm pretty sure I have it in my rewatch notes somewhere that it's a pain whenever Rachel goes from having her own scenes to Finchel ones because I love her but then I have to suffer through... all that. I think that blind pursuit of Finn despite him being SO far below her league annoys me much more than the two having that more established dynamic in later seasons. The story itself doesn't see any wrong in what Finn does so how could I single out Rachel for it. It's all on Finn as far as I'm concerned.

That said, I sometimes think about what a realistic Rachel reaction to either The Outing or his hissy fit during prom would have been. Sure is convenient she was absent. Rachel is a fundamentally compassionate person and it REALLY pisses me off that the show LIES to us and says Finn is a better person. Laughable. The Rachel I stan would not have condoned Finn outing someone much less do it herself and she most definitely would not have stood for Finn wrestling a disabled Quinn out of her wheelchair. But that does sour the magical romance doesn't it. Ugh, Finn.

Codependency isn't a turn off for me, I mean, helloooo, Brittana lol, but when Finchel do it it's gross. Hope that helps. I just think Finn is this status symbol for Rachel but she should have realized in season 2, tops, that she's way too good for him and that's that. I often think about how Rachel's too good for Finn, to the point that I get mad about it lmao. And so it hurts to see her simp after him, of all people. And it does get annoying, and it does affect my perception of her at times. Oh I know what I have in my rewatch notes, that Finchel bring out the worst in each other. And I think that is true even if only partially so. Rachel certainly is at her most single-minded and blind to other people when Finn is involved. But yeah you're right Anon, having an "in love with the supposed stud guy who's actually a huge loser" era is not that bad. Understandable for Rachel, really. And when it comes to Finn's crimes it's really just that the show doesn't see them, so why would Rachel.

In that respect, my views of Rachel are not effected because if I started blaming people other than Finn for IKAG I would literally hate this whole cast. Almost all ND members were being biiig flops there just by agreeing to the condescending charade. And I don't think it's Rachel's responsibility that her bf is an ass. That said, it's unfortunate that she keeps pursuing this asshole and I think most of my leats favourite Rachel moments are tied to Finchel. Because of course. So yeah Finchel affects my Rachel feelings but mostly as an annoyance, more than anything, God, she just deserves so much better.

#to be clear i get what you're saying and i mostly agree #i've seen people try to shift the blame of finn's actions on rachel tho lola nd that's...#quite the backwards feminism #her bf being such a flop is unfortunate and her fault for being with him to an extent #but i couldn't possibly hold the lack of a reaction against her #no more than i can hate all of nd for ikag really #glee asks #rachel asks #anti finchel #anti finn hudson #anon #rachel berry

12 notes · View notes

cinemaquiles · 9 months

Text

youtube

O inferno de Al Pacino: o filme que quase destruiu o ator e sua carreira!

#al pacino #revolution #revolution movie #flop movie #Donald Sutherland #Nastassja Kinski #Dexter Fletcher #Joan Plowright #Felicity Dean #Annie Lennox #Hugh Hudson #Youtube

1 note · View note

weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months

Note

can you write a slash fic where reader is usually all sunshine and rainbows, but her facade begins to crack and he realizes just how bad her depression is so he comfort her and just helps her do the little things like basic hygiene? <3

A/n: Love this request, loved writing it, I don't know what you're going through right now but I hope you feel better soon, I can't really do anything as a stranger over the internet but I hope this can help you feel a little better lol <3

Warnings: Angst, depression, that's all I think it's just a lot of fluff, Slash and reader have a shower together but it's not sexual.

You tried your best not to let others know you were suffering, you didn’t want them to be burdened with your own struggles so you kept it quiet. Of course your bandmates knew you weren’t ok, they tried to help you when they could but they had their own things going on.

Last summer your band opened on a short tour for Guns N’ Roses, one of your personal favourite bands. While you were with them you got pretty close to their lead guitarist, Saul Hudson, though everyone just called him Slash. Even so, you enjoyed the nickname Sauly instead, it was cute and annoyed him so it was perfect.

When you got back from the tour you realised you didn’t actually live all too far from animal lover, this led to you visiting him whenever you felt. Slash didn’t mind one bit, you guys would just sit together in a comfortable silence and it was great. You’d watch movies together, you’d cook for his incompetent ass more than you’d like to admit. You two were happy with your little arrangement.

However, this was all just a distraction from what was going on within your band. You weren’t entirely sure what happened since it didn’t directly involve you but you knew your bandmates were arguing an awful lot. Everyone within and surrounding the band knew you guys were about to break up, it was inevitable at this point. You knew, your friends knew, Slash knew.

All of the fights, disagreements and nosy people wanting the freshest gossip was detrimental for your mental health and you stopped visiting Saul. It started out as coming by every day, then every other day, then once a week if you were lucky until you just stopped coming by all together. You hadn’t left your house in almost a month, you’d barely gotten off the couch even with the only exceptions being to go to the bathroom or get more snacks from the kitchen. Quite frankly, you were running out of food that hadn’t spoiled.

Your doorbell rang and waited for whoever it was to leave. Instead of letting them walk away your house was filled with the doorbell ringing repeatedly and loud banging on the door. You could’ve sworn your whole house was shaking.

When the noise persisted you got up, taking your blankets with you, and answered the door. Slash stood before you looking completely panicked. His eyes were wide and he sported a small pout. When he registered that you had opened the door and were now in front of him he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“I thought you fucking died.” He mumbled, shoving his face into your hair and kissing the top of your head. He pulled away enough to look you up and down, taking in your deteriorating state. The bags under your eyes, your slowly hollowing cheeks. Matted hair and dry lips. You were a corpse. “Did you die?” He asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

You turned and walked back to your couch, flopping over and curling in on yourself. Slash watched as you did this, standing idly at your front door.

He walked in and closed the door behind him, now taking in the state of your house. It wasn’t a mess but you didn’t clean so everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. “Fucking Christ.” Slash muttered. He came over and crouched beside you on the couch. “Are you ok?” He asked, tucking a few wiry strands of your hair behind your ear.

“Go away.” You mumbled, hiding yourself further under your blankets.

“Fuck that, answer me, are you ok?” He repeated in a sterner tone. You didn’t respond. Saul took a deep breath and glanced around the room, thinking through his options. “Ok, um... ok, how about we start with a shower?” You shook your head. “It’s ok, I’ll be right there with you.” He gave you a moment before he stood up. “Come on, let’s go have a shower.” He waited another moment before he took you into his arms and pulled you up, holding you to keep you standing.

Slash walked you to your bathroom. He let you lean against the counter while he turned the water on, getting it to the right temperature. When he turned around you were curled up on the ground. He sat down with you and held you to his side. “You need to stand.” He said, his voice soft. “Please, can you stand for me?” He nuzzled his face against yours.

Again he waited a moment for you. Slash stood and walked out of the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a change of clothes for you. Something comfortable that you could wear out of the house. He set the stack of clothes on the counter and crouched in front of you. “I’ll get in with you, I’ll help you get cleaned up and stuff and then we can go out.” He explained to you how he wanted the day to go.

“I-I don’t want to.” You said, your voice no louder than a whisper. Slash rolled his eyes.

“Want to or not, you're doing it.” He took the blanket off of you with minimal effort, you didn’t have the energy to keep hold of it so it practically just slid off when he reached for it. Saul picked you up like a cat, holding you under your arms. “Lean on me, would you?” You did just that, lazily wrapping your arms around him and leaning on him, your head resting on his shoulder.

Slash helped you out of your clothes. You tried to help but not hard, part of you was still hoping that he would just give up on this and let you go back to your couch. He didn’t.

Once you were ready to get in the shower he stripped and got in. He held the curtain open, waiting for you to come in with him. “It’s just water.” He stated, looking up at the shower head. You stood there a moment longer before stepping in. Slash held you from behind for support.

You got used to the warm water hitting your skin. Slash started lathering you with soap, being careful around your more sensitive parts to make this more comfortable for you. When he started washing your hair he’d scratch your scalp and massage the shampoo and then conditioner into your hair. He made sure to be careful when washing it out of your hair, not wanting to get anything in your eyes.

“Are you ready to get out?” He asked, leaning down to your ear. You shook your head.

“A few more minutes.” Slash chuckled but happily stayed in the shower with you. Still holding you close he rocked you from side to side, kissing your cheek occasionally. You knew you had to get out of the shower eventually but you just wanted to stay here with him. “Thank you.” You mumbled, holding his hands as they rested on your stomach.

“It’s my job to take care of you.” He said.

“It’s not though, you didn’t have to come by.” You told him.

“Bullshit, you’re fucking mine and I take care of my things.”

#guns n roses fluff #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses #slash #slash fic #slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash fluff #angst #guns n roses angst #saul hudson x reader #saul hudson

103 notes · View notes

nhl-stories · 18 days

Text

hornylovesickmess – Nico Hischier

Summary: Marie should know better by now, knows she should leave him alone, but Nico's like a drug. One more hit can't hurt.

Author’s Note: Almost a year to the day I finally finished this album series. Phew! Also lol to me thinking I'd have the motivation to finish it in 10 weeks. Seems clear from the title but it does get steamy below.

Word Count: 2.6k

Album Series Masterlist

And I don't wanna be the type of person who calls you up Every time I need to get off

The view from her hotel room is taunting her. It’s sunny and bright on the Hudson River, reflecting off the buildings of the New York skyline.

Most people wouldn’t be too upset about being put up in a nice hotel and having 48 hours free in close proximity to the city, but Marie had moved away for a reason.

And still part of her is stuck here, even at a 4-star hotel minutes away from Newark airport.

So, she does what she does best and gives into her baser instincts.

She’s no stranger to crafting the perfect sext, keeping it tantalizing and teasing enough while still giving her location. Like an eloquent ‘u up?’

Marie hits send before she can second guess herself.

She shouldn’t be reaching out to him, grabbing for that loose thread and pulling for her own selfish reasons. But she’s been lonely since the move and in all honestly, just plain horny.

Nico almost swallows his tongue when he opens the text.

At first glance a simple picture of the New York skyline, but at second glance the reflection of a naked woman comes into view.

It might as well be Marie’s calling card.

He regrets opening the text in the locker room.

“What the hell has you that red Neeks?” Bastian calls from his stall.

He can feel the blush getting darker.

“The last time you looked like that was because of that flight attendant,” Bratter calls out.

When he doesn’t respond balls of tape come flying his way with a chorus of groans.

“It’s not like I texted her first!”

“You never text her first,” Jack rolls his eyes.

“I’m not texting her back.”

“Block her number while you’re at it,” Bratt responds.

Nico stashes his phone away and mostly forgets about the text.

||||

She checks her phone for about the fifth time during drinks with her friends. She knows what they’re thinking, but they’re not gonna say it.

It’s especially kind of them since Nico hasn’t responded. Even though he’s the type of guy to have read receipts on, so she knows he looked at her message.

Her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket so fast she fumbles it, dropping it on the bar. Her friend snatches it up and laughs.

“It’s a notification from Postmates, you have coupon.”

Marie feels herself flush, embarrassed to be caught like some kind of junkie waiting for their next hit.

“Jesus Christ, just go get laid! You’re unbearable when you’re wound this tight. It’s not even worth the catch up.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I haven’t had sex in months. See you on my next layover.”

“Unless you’re still jonesing for that Jersey dick!”

“It’s Swiss,” Marie sticks her tongue out.

She waves down a cab, and she should give the address to her hotel, but she’s in some sort of horny fugue state. Why go back and masturbate at her hotel thinking about him when she knows his address?

Before she knows it, she’s at his door fixing her hair and trying to lean seductively against the doorframe. Maybe she’s lost her mojo during her recent dry spell.

She knocks before she loses her nerve.

Marie hears someone lumbering along around on the other side of the door. Nico finally answers the door; shirtless with a pair of gray sweats low on his hips, hair flopping about like he just woke up.

Her mouth goes dry at the familiar sight, or maybe she salivates, or somehow both at the same time. She feels so out of sync with her hormones.

But she knows she wants, scratch that, needs.

“Thought maybe the picture just didn’t do the real thing justice,” she smirks even though she kind of wants to grimace at the cheesy line.

“I was trying to let you down easy,” he’s trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well, here I am, easy and ready to be let down on your bed.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. She can practically see his willpower crumbling piece by piece.

“C’mon, I haven’t been with anyone else since Denver.”

She dares to reach out, running a finger from his collarbone down, down, down, until Nico grabs her wrist.

“Just–“ he yanks her into the apartment, “get in here.”

Marie is flush against his chest now, she smirks, “that’s more like it.”

“Your picture got me in trouble in locker room, the boys think you’re no good for me.”

“Do you want me to be good for you?” She roughly grabs him through his sweatpants.

“I don’t think you could be if you tried,” he ruts against her palm.

She gentles her touch in response, she wants to be good, for Nico at least.

Marie can’t make eye contact now. If she looks up all the guilt of coming here after she promised herself she’d stop will come rushing back. She doesn’t have time for that when she can feel him hardening in her hand.

So, she closes her eyes and kisses him. Lets her tongue explore his mouth. Lets Nico manhandle her towards the bedroom. A path she’s too familiar with even with her eyes closed.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes until she’s flat on her back and hears Nico rummaging in the bedside table. As he comes back up with a condom, Marie works on the too many layers of clothes she’s still wearing.

He rolls on the condom and strokes himself slowly, “Is this you being good?”

Marie spreads her thighs and bites her lip, holding back demands for him to get on with it.

He pushes her legs even farther apart and nearly drapes himself over her. One finger runs up her slit, feeling how slick she is with desperation, he sucks the finger into his mouth and Marie can’t hold on any longer.

“Please, fuck, please,” she grapples for his shoulders anything to anchor her in the moment.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to push in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Marie gasps at the sudden intrusion, familiar as it is.

He sets an agonizingly slow pace, making her feel every unbearable movement without getting her any closer to her climax.

“C’mon Nico, give it to me,” she whines and clenches around him, trying to egg him on.

But it doesn’t deter him from his mission to tease her death, maybe it’s punishment for how she’s treated him.

She tries to move her own hips for more friction and still Nico keeps with his slow and steady pace.

Marie grabs his hair and makes him look at her, “I swear to god, if you don’t start really fucking me, I’m gonna explode.”

The evil little smirk he gives her, makes her stomach swoop.

“I knew you couldn’t stay good.”

“If being bad means I’ll have an orgasm, I guess I’m the devil,” she pulls him in for a kiss that’s probably too much tongue and teeth but she doesn’t care.

Then Nico takes her by surprise, flipping her onto all fours in such a fluid movement she already feels closer to coming. And that’s before he starts railing her from behind. The slap of skin and pornographic squelching fills the silence in the room.

Marie has lost all her witty words, can barely get enough air to make noises beyond tiny gasps. Nico knows exactly where to thrust, how to grip her hips, tweak her nipples, reach between her thighs and rub her clit. It’s too much, to have your body read like a book.

She clenches around him when she’s almost over the edge and feels him release, one hand tightening so hard on her hips it might bruise.

He blankets his body over her back, kissing her shoulders while he continues to rub her clit, buried deep inside her.

Her arms give out when she finally comes, her body singing with pleasure. Nico’s weight heavy on her, but she can’t bring herself to move him, it all feels too good.

She doesn’t remember when they move apart, or if they clean up at all, or if she peed afterward, she really hopes she at least did the last one. Still, she’s in hazy bliss before she’s rudely awoken from her dream-like state by her alarm obnoxiously ringing, too loudly at that.

She has to get out of the bed to find her phone her jeans pocket.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” she swears before having to put her clothes back on.

Nico’s alarm starts going off now. He sits up to see Marie half-dressed already.

“Of course,” he sounds so disappointed.

“I have a flight to catch and I still have to get my uniform and pack my suitcase.”

“Sure,” he sighs as he starts to get out of bed himself.

She probably deserves this, scratch that she knows she deserves this, but doesn’t mean she won’t defend herself.

“It’s a 9:30 Newark to DFW, look it up” she knows her shirt is inside out but that’s how late she is as she calls an Uber.

“Thanks for last night,” she gives Nico a quick kiss and leaves before he can respond.

Of course, when the elevator opens, Jack is the one standing on the other side, with an exhausted looking boy next to him. It’s probably his brother, Marie’s brain supplies the small Devils knowledge she has.

“That fucking idiot.”

“I showed up here, the blame is on me,” Marie holds her hands up in surrender.

“But the inside shirt and messed up hair is probably on him.”

“Probably can mostly blame me for that too, I know you want to.”

The look of disgust on his face makes that very clear.

Thankfully, the elevator door opens before the torture can continue.

||||

Marie goes back to rebuilding her resolve. She was trying to quit him cold turkey, not mess up Nico’s perfect little world again. But she couldn’t resist one more hit of her favorite drug.

Still, the universe isn’t making it easy for her to stay sober.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Marie and her coworkers all jump at the exclamation. When she turns around there’s Jack Hughes.

Nico is nowhere to be seen, so Marie is sure she can get away without making much of a scene.

“Of all the hotels in a city with multiple airports…” Jack doesn’t seem amused at her response, “I’m just as surprised as you, sorry the universe is clearly playing a sick joke on us.”

She runs off to her room before she has a chance encounter with Nico. Begs off from dinner plans with her coworkers. Masturbates in the shower in hopes of taking the edge off.

She’s wound up like a rubber band knowing Nico is so close. For all she knows, there’s only a wall separating them right now.

And of course, she gives in, because Marie is a fiend and a rotten person. How can she resist when the world laid it out on a platter like this.

She hopes he’s stronger than her and doesn’t respond, but she texts him regardless: I have it on good authority we’re in the same hotel

Marie can barely put her phone down before she gets a response.

Yeah for someone who doesn’t want me interacting with you Jack was quick to gossip

She can hear his tone through the words, hear his husky laugh at his own joke. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing her heart. Makes her act out of character.

Wanna get dinner or drinks or something?

Marie from a few months ago would be nauseous at this kind of proposition, but her present-self feels like she owes Nico… something different.

So, she finds herself tucked into a corner booth at some restaurant Nico says he’s been to before.

And she laughs at his jokes. Brushes her hand over his. Turns a bit soppy looking into his warm brown eyes.

And she knows she made a mistake.

But still, she holds his hand as they walk back to the hotel; swaying back and forth, a little wine-drunk.

Marie walks him to the door like she’s some sort of gentleman at the end of a first date, they both know the connotations are anything but gentlemanly.

“This was nice,” she smiles up at him.

“If you were still in Jersey, we could have nights like this all the time,”

That should deflate her a bit, but she’s made it too far for it to end here with some serious conversation, so she reaches into his pocket to grab his room key and unlock the door, shoving him into the room.

She kisses him, hard and needy. She desperately wants her lips everywhere. She follows that train down his jaw.

“Clearly you want this kind of thing too, or you wouldn’t come crawling to me anytime we’re in the same place,” his hands are bunching up the skirt of her dress.

She bites down on his neck, a little meaner than she should. But it gets him going enough to throw her onto his bed. Her underwear is gone and a finger is pushing into her before she can make any moves.

A second and third are soon to follow. The pressure from his thumb on her clit is enough to make her throw back her head and enjoy the intoxication.

His other hand cups her jaw, makes her open her eyes and look at him.

“This is all I wanted, but you had to be a brat who let me find out you moved by showing up to your empty apartment,” he stops moving his fingers, stops using any pressure.

“I apologized for that,” she whines, desperate and uncaring.

“Did you?” He crooks his fingers just so.

“I gave you a blow job,” Marie grits out.

He raises his brows while he pulls out, leaving her feeling emptier than ever before.

“Fuck.”

The realization crashes over her harder than any orgasm ever could.

She scrambles off the bed throwing on her underwear and grabbing her phone.

“I’m deleting your number.”

“What?”

“I moved to a city that doesn’t even have a hockey team to stay away from you and that’s not even working.”

“You moved because of me?” The crease between his brow is like a canyon.

“You wanted more and I knew I wasn’t– I’m not in a place to give that to you, but fuck! Whatever I’m doing now– I’m just being cruel, aren’t I?”

“I’m not exactly turning you away.”

“Doesn’t mean I should keep using you,” tears she wasn’t expecting start to well up, “Nico you’re worth a lot more than a quick fuck from a flight attendant who happens to be in the same zip code as you.”

Nico just stares at her and Marie knows she has to be the bigger person here.

“You should block me on everything too, don’t give me a way to weasel my way back in.”

Once she’s dressed, she moves towards Nico, moves a strand of hair off his forehead.

She feels like she should say something meaningful, but this isn’t that kind of relationship; Marie made sure of that when she scorched the earth behind her when she left.

She kisses him one last time and hopes she’ll be able to find her next hit in someone else.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier imagines #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils story #nj devils #nhl #nhl stories #nhl fic #hockey fics #hockey imagines

64 notes · View notes

angelhummel · 11 months

Note

okay so in honor of pride month, i have something i wanna get off my chest for real. sorry if this is super long

I have a tendency to go outside of tumblr spaces when looking at glee content — something i frequently regret. but in my time in those spaces, i often the most delusional take ever. it is basically, “kurt was always kinda pushy towards finn. so did he actually DESERVE to be called a slur??? 🤔🤔🤔 let’s discuss.” this shit boils my blood to no end and while it’s obvious why, i feel the incessant need to defend my boy kurt at all costs.

for one, he wasn’t any more pushy than any other character in the show. i mean for god’s sake, rachel quite literally THREW herself at finn as early as the first episode and i guess that’s fine??? what kurt did was virtually no different bc all the characters do weird, out of pocket shit throughout the show. it really only bothered finn bc kurt is a boy and finn is OVERLY bothered by the prospect of a boy having a crush on him. (more specifically that its kurt — he just simply dislikes kurt being attracted potentially straight guys. thats why he took so much issue to kurt singing with sam. it’s always been about his personal issues with kurt)

moving on to the actual scene in question, so much of what flop accused kurt of was grossly unfair to him. like he says something along the lines of “im scared to even take a shower when youre around,” implying that kurt is some ‘predatory gay’. which is ironic, bc we learn from kurt himself that he never showered after gym JUST to avoid be labelled as something like that. at no point did kurt’s advances move towards remotely ANYTHING sexual in nature, finn just instead assumed that of him

finally, i do believe that flop WANTED to call kurt a slur. he knew that kurt wouldnt call him out for it and you can tell from his tone that that had been building up inside of him for awhile. he wanted something that would push kurt away/scare him. he just went for the cruelest method possible in the moment.

so all this was to basically say that flop hudson sucks and that kurt did not deserve any of the shit that he endured. he was pretty much taught by his peers that it is inappropriate and unacceptable for him to have the same wants and desires that literally any teenager would have simply bc he was gay.

thank you for tuning into my rant. this has been stewing for awhile lmao

lmao yesterday i saw a gifset where cory as finn was doing some good fun acting and i stared at him for like a minute going "if i focus on the cory of it all, can i trick myself into liking finn even a little bit?"

the answer was already no, but if it hadn't been, this ask wouldve set me straight. thank you <3

i've definitely talked about that before tho bc omg. finn has the nerve to call anyone else pushy. i know its not like it'd happened in the show already but. this is the boy setting up a whole kissing booth to manipulate quinn into kissing him aksljfsdlk. or the way he got drunk at the wedding reception in s4 and was hounding rachel. that literally gives me the heebie jeebies lmao sorry to be dramatic about it but i hate it

and god yeah it just breaks my heart bc we know that kurt is always walking on eggshells around these people anyway. and literally 2x04 has become one of my least favorite episodes bc of how hard it is to watch as a kurt stan lmao. sorry it has like two iconic songs but finchel are so fucking manipulative and awful and i've had several rants about this episode before aljsfdlks but basically boils down to them literally making kurt feel like he's committing a crime by asking sam to sing a duet with him and isolating him to an unhealthy degree

and then wanna act all :O four eps later when kurt is like "im getting tf out of here to go to school with people who are nice to me" aslkfdslfjsd

anyway literally just search "2x04 anti finn" on my blog and you will find more posts than you would ever care to read lmao

#glee #lol glee #anti finn hudson #asks #my thoughts #cryscendo #flop hudson

20 notes · View notes

trivialcrow · 2 months

Text

“It’s a yes or no question, Jason,” Kyle said, still floating a foot off the floor with an aura of white light so bright boats in the Hudson could probably see it. “Do I need to fly to Gotham and kick Batman’s ass?”

Everything from the question to the still battle clad white lantern hovering in his living room was so ridiculous that all Jason could do was laugh. “I’m almost tempted to say yes, just to see you try, Rayner.”

“You don’t think I could take him? I’m like the only white lantern.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And he’s Batman.”

“Exactly.” Kyle finally had the decency to stop floating, but only so he could brace his feet and glare at Jason. “Which means I mastered the entire emotional spectrum before he’s even found it yet. World’s greatest detective, my ass.”

Jason hated that he found himself laughing again. Hated how fucking easy Rayner always managed to make it seem. Hated that he was getting way too attached to someone whose literal job was to be anywhere but on Earth.

“Just sit down, nightlight,” Jason said. “B would hand your ass to you backwards and upside down.”

“Hey, I do actually know how to fight,” Kyle said. “It’s not all just light shows and imagination.”

“Yeah? Please just tell me John or Guy showed you how to throw a punch, and not Hal.”

“The old guard wasn’t exactly around to teach me when I started this, so no. Donna taught me, and Bruce.”

Jason winced at the clumsy misstep. He forgot, sometimes, that Kyle had spent the first part of his hero career making things up and learning as he went. As much as Jason would never admit it to him, Kyle was competent, more than. He was smart, tactical when he needed to be, and on his second stint of wielding god-like powers.

“Wait, Bruce taught you how to fight? When the hell did that happen?”

Kyle shrugged. “Back when I was on the league. Almost seemed like he’d decided it was his job to look out for me.”

Jason hummed, giving Kyle a once over. “I mean, you are his type. Black hair, blue eyes, constantly stumbling into trouble. He probably thought you were one of his and he’d just temporarily misplaced you.”

Kyle snorted, before the sound became a full laugh and he finally flopped down on the couch beside Jason, dismissing his white lantern uniform as he fell. “That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, lifting his glass of water in a fake cheer. “Now, whose turn was it to pick the movie?”

#jason todd #kyle rayner #jaykyle #crow writes words #i have no context for this #I’m just trying to #get back in the habit #of writing #and this popped into my head

125 notes · View notes

marley-bean · 2 years

Text

“She’s a lot shorter than Quinn, and she talks a lot, but I’m in love with her”.

I’m sorry, fraken-teen, I didn’t know being short and talkative were such offensive crimes

#quinn fabray #Rachel Berry #anti finn hudson #flop hudson #since when is being short bad?#since when is being talkative bad?#I hate finn so much

27 notes · View notes

hommepieds007 · 10 months

Text

West Village…Hudson Avenue…handsome…scruff…shades…Rainbow Flip Flops…

Source: HommePieds007

#male rainbow flip flops #maleflipflops #guysflipflops #whiteguysfeet #scruff #nycmen #shades #malefeet #malefootworship #malefootfetish #handsomeman #nyc style

215 notes · View notes

strawberrywinter4 · 2 months

Note

i saw your post about prompts for a johnlock fanfic, and i thought it would be fun if they went on a picnic date (+ it could be in the evening so there would be stars) :)

Thank you, thank you for this prompt! I wrote away, haha, so I hope you enjoy <3

The Greats

Fandom: Sherlock(TV)

Tags: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Established Relationship, beginning relationship, countryside, Picnics, picnic date, Hand Kisses, John kind of speaks poetry, Star Gazing, Theories of Stars, Romance, Fluff

Read here on ao3.

*•*•*•*

It was, initially, for a case.

A series of murders summoned them to the countryside, and Sherlock had a delightful time, claiming that it was a “fun one.”

Now, after the chaos has ended and the case has been solved, Sherlock’s excitement instantly deflates. He complained about the fact that they were still in this god-forsaken village and that they should return home immediately so that he’s able to get proper rest in case of another murder coming about, and he’ll need his ability of deductions, clear and skillful.

Sherlock and John are packing for their departure, folding clothes and gathering toiletries. The inn which they’ve stayed in is a local lodge that’s run by a widowed woman, Agnes, who’s practically like the Mrs. Hudson away from home. Sherlock catches himself longing for his Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits.

John curses under his breath as he peers down at his phone, the screen illuminating his face through the dimly lit room. Sherlock quirks a brow in question.

“Our train has been… delayed,” John explains. “Delayed until tomorrow morning.”

Sherlock groans in complaint, flopping down on the bed which contains sheets opposite to his liking. “This is troublesome,” he scowls, burying his face into the pillow.

John sighs, seeming slightly irritated as well. “Yes, well… nothing we can do now.”

“I have no desire to sleep anywhere besides our own bed for another night, John. This is already proving difficult,” Sherlock says, his voice muffled due to the pillow.

“I thought you didn’t sleep,” John quips back, taking a seat next to Sherlock’s sulking body.

“You’ve changed my sleep schedule considerably. Now I actually need to rest my eyes properly,” Sherlock complains in dismay.

A strong hand runs up Sherlock’s spine, then squeezes the back of his neck. “We should be thankful we have somewhere to sleep,” John reminds him.

“Oh, please. Don’t try to make me feel sorry for voicing valid concerns.”

“Concerns about yourself,” John corrects him. “Anyway, I’m going to head to the front desk, set up another night for us.”

Sherlock makes a noncommittal noise.

John scoffs and stands, and Sherlock can hear the door shut on his way out.

An hour passes, and finally, then, Sherlock turns on his back, furrowing his brows. The late sunset peeks through the window, making its way through the curtains.

John has been gone quite some time. It shouldn’t take that long to register another night, should it? Sherlock wouldn’t know. He doesn’t concern himself with such useless information.

Just then, the door opens and John walks in, a wooden basket in hand. He grins once he sees Sherlock.

“Come on, you big baby. Stop sulking and let’s go enjoy ourselves, yeah?” John suggests, taking a quick look at himself in the mirror, fixing the collar of his jumper.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and stands from the bed, going to stand in front of John. He shoos John’s hands away and fixes the collar himself, which John seems grateful for.

“And what on earth are you talking about?” Sherlock asks absentmindedly.

“You’ll see once you stop fiddling with my clothes that look just fine,” John says.

“Mm. You wear horrid jumpers, John. I have to make do with what I have.”

John rolls his eyes and grabs Sherlock’s hand. “Go put your shoes on. We’re going out and there’s no arguing about it.”

Sherlock reluctantly does as he’s told.

___

It isn’t a long walk, but Sherlock has to bite back several grumbles about his feet hurting.

They finally arrive at a field of open grass, it being one of many near the village. Sherlock blinks in confusion, looking down at John who sets the basket down. Sherlock observes the field, there being nothing but occasional trees and distant mountains in sight. It’s close to nightfall, the sun now ducking under the hills.

“A potential suspect?” Sherlock asks, a tinge of excitement coming back to his chest.

“Nope,” John responds, searching through the basket.

“Oh. A stakeout, then?”

“No,” John responds again, setting down a plaid blanket.

“So… nothing of entertainment,” Sherlock concludes. The excitement dissipates.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock looks down, seeing John light a lantern. He sets it carefully beside the blanket, then begins setting out various mini deserts on the blanket, as if they’re magically appearing out of the basket.

After John is done preparing the setup, he extends his hand. Hesitantly, Sherlock takes it, and carefully, John pulls him down next to him. Sherlock sits next to the blogger, and John keeps him close, his body warmth making the slight chill of the night seem like only a breeze.

John’s deep, always sincere eyes find Sherlock, searching the detective. “You need to rest that beautiful brain of yours and just be here with me,” John says.

Sherlock’s eyes flutter as they wander the scene. “What is this?” he asks skeptically.

John’s grin is wide as he obviously tries to hold a chuckle. “This, Sherlock, is called a picnic,” John explains, enunciating his words.

Sherlock glares. “I’m aware. I just mean… why?”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t something we… do,” Sherlock tries to clarify.

“I didn’t know we had an itinerary for our relationship,” John teases.

Sherlock huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“Sherlock, we’re on a date,” John says, taking the detective’s hand in his. “I’m taking you out on a date.”

Sherlock’s heart stutters at John’s words. Yes. Of course. This is what couples do. They date.

“I know going out just because isn’t our usual dynamic, but… this is my way of showing you that I appreciate you,” John says, his voice low as if anyone else could disturb their peace.

“Oh…” Sherlock says, eyes wandering the setup once again.

John’s eyes turn to concern. “Do you not like it?”

“No!” Sherlock quickly reassures, if not too eagerly. “I mean- yes. I like it. Um…”

John stares at him, showing he’s attentive.

“I just mean that… I’m not sure how to- I don’t know how you’d like me to-”

John releases a short laugh, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. “Darling, I’m not asking you to do anything. Be yourself. It’s just us.”

It’s just us.

John says it so easily, as if that’s the way it’s always been.

It is how it’s always been.

It’s always just been them.

John brings Sherlock’s hand up to his lips, kissing it quickly before bringing the sweets over to where they’re sitting. Sherlock can’t stop his cheeks from heating.

“I know how you like your scones,” John starts, setting the plate between them, “so don’t let me stop you.”

Sherlock allows himself to smile, grabbing one of the scones from the plate. “Is this why you took such an awfully long time to register us another night?”

John looks up, squinting an eye in confusion. Then, his lips turn into an “oh” as he nods. “Yes. That.”

Sherlock sighs, realization coming to him. “Our train ride wasn’t delayed,” he concludes. The detective shakes his head in bewilderment. “You… fooled me.”

“This is a perfect place for a picnic,” John says in defense. “No way am I going to take you somewhere in London when you can get authenticity out here.”

“There’s Regent’s Park,” Sherlock offers.

“There is,” John agrees. “But London doesn’t have a view like this.”

They both look up and are met with the sight of a thousand glittering stars. Sherlock feels himself go a bit hazy as he lays back fully against the blanket, staring up at the heavenly body. John lays next to him, their shoulders touching. Sherlock presses into the touch.

“What’s your belief, then?” John asks, voice quiet.

“Hm?”

“Everyone has a belief in stars.”

“John, they consist of hydrogen, helium, and-”

“No,” John interrupts softly. “I mean… a belief that’s not based on the strict laws of science.”

Sherlock only stares. “I don’t believe I’ve formed one.”

John hums.

“How about you?” Sherlock asks, his curiosity peaked.

“Well… when Harry and I were little, we had loads of theories. One was-” John stops for a laugh. “One was that each star is a symbol of one of the greats. That someone who’s made an impact in history makes their way to the top, becomes one of the many shining fragments that people look up to for hope. And they watch us live our pathetic little lives as they thrive in the sky.”

Sherlock grins. “That sounds promising.”

“Doesn’t it?” John releases a contented sigh. “I can’t wait for us to become stars.”

Sherlock turns his head to settle his eyes on John. “So you’re claiming that we’ll be one of the greats?”

John turns his head as well, eyes landing on Sherlock with adoration.

“We already are.”

*•*•*•

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @itsonlytext @7-percent @chinike @peanitbear @bakerstreetbe @mary-johnlocked @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes

(Please let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged! And thank you so much for the reblogs, my loves <3)

40 notes · View notes

arrowofcarnations · 6 months

Text

Fic-O-Ween 2023 Day 4: Dead End

Some Luke/Logan friendship for day four of the fest (@noots-fic-fests)! Thanks to @lumosinlove for creating these two, and special thanks to @fruitcoops for beta-reading this and being an all-around excellent friend and hype noot. <3

Title: Birds of a Feather Characters: Luke Deveaux, Logan Tremblay Rating: G

(Contains Vaincre spoilers!)

“Luke and I have been running along the river. You know, the Hudson River path? It’s been kinda warm so sometimes we lay out after. There’s a park with grass. It’s nice.” (Logan, Vaincre, May Part Two)

They didn’t have a set schedule or anything. It would happen like this: Luke would text him something like “Run tomorrow? Gonna be nice out,” Logan would send a thumbs-up, and they’d pick an access point along the path to meet—sometimes a familiar one, sometimes a new one way uptown or downtown so they could try out a different route. That’s how it happened in the beginning, at least. Now Logan texted first sometimes, too.

Neither of them were runners the way Finn was, both preferring to keep it down to a few easy miles at most. Sometimes they’d stop so Luke could pet a dog, or so Logan could take a picture of the view to send to his boys. It was…well, nice, like he’d told Leo. Grounding. Head-clearing. Nice, too, to hang out with Luke outside of practice, travel and team dinners.

He had other real friends in New York, of course—with Alex, Percy and Will as his teammates, it still kind of shocked Logan just how many friends he had here—but there was a level of understanding with Luke that was unique. Alex and Percy were loud, outgoing, hearts-on-their-sleeves people. Will was a thousand times more patient and level-headed than Logan could ever be. But Luke—Luke was a lot like him. A hundred silent thoughts for every one said aloud. Guarded around new people. Tough shells, Leo had said of the two of them. Logan supposed that was as good a phrase to characterize it as any. He just knew he was thankful for it.

On this particular day—the warmest they’d had since they’d started doing this together—they hooked up with the path near the George Washington Bridge and headed south, flanked by rows of still-blooming cherry trees lining the river. They’d timed it late enough in the afternoon for the crowds of cyclists, families and dog-walkers to have thinned slightly, but with enough daylight left so they could finish before dark. Streaks of orange and pink were starting to paint the sky by the time they reached Riverside Park. They found an empty spot and planted themselves there; the grass was cool on Logan’s skin as he flopped down on his back, only raising his head to take a sip of water before going boneless.

“Do you have a good route in Gryff?”

Logan’s gaze traveled from the wispy clouds overhead to Luke sitting beside him, bent over his own thigh in a stretch.

“Ouais, kind of,” he replied. He liked that Luke never used the past tense when they talked about Gryffindor, about his life there. “I usually go with Finn—he has his favorites. There’s one we do in the old part of the city that’s good. You know the Godric’s Hollow neighborhood?”

Luke nodded, switching to the other leg. “Hazard dragged us to a bakery there on some little dead-end street once.”

An ache Logan was now familiar with pinged briefly in his chest. Race you to the door. Damn, I can smell those croissants. C’mon, Lo baby, I’ll buy you something sweet. “I know the one. Pretty sure he built the route around that bakery. Even when Knutty and I sleep in, he’ll bring us back something.”

It was a relief to not have to pick and choose his words when it came to Finn and Leo. So new, and still so strange. Had there ever been a time before the last few weeks when he didn’t have to worry about implications?

Finished with his stretch, Luke sat up straight and rolled his neck and shoulders a few times before grabbing his own water bottle. “He’s a morning guy, eh?”

Logan nodded. “Annoyingly so. He needs a coffee in one hand and a book in the other just to keep him in bed past eight.”

Luke gave a hum of acknowledgement, then chugged the rest of his water. He was quiet long enough that Logan was about to ask something else, but then Luke, staring out at the water, said, “Saint’s the same way.”

It was a good thing that Logan had already noticed, that he’d already suspected as much, because it was easy to keep his expression neutral. He was surprised, though; not because Luke and Saint were a thing, but because Luke had told him about it.

“He’s a morning runner?” he asked, staying put in his casual sprawl as though no big news had just been dropped.

“No, yoga. Out on his balcony, ass crack of dawn, with this ugly tie-dye bandana on his head.”

Logan laughed, loud and bright, and it startled a little laugh out of Luke, too. “Goalies are crazy.”

Luke’s shoulders, which had been creeping up toward his ears, dropped; his whole body seemed to relax by several degrees, and he smiled. “They’re nuts.”

They both let the lull in conversation stretch for a little while after that. Luke eventually laid down under the waning sun like Logan was, both of them watching the sky as the city provided a familiar soundtrack of birds, dogs, people and distant traffic. Logan thought about how Luke helped make New York feel like a home away from home. About how nice, how necessary, it was to carve out new routines and memories in a place that was so tangled up with his memories of Finn, and how Luke seemed to know that, how he’d been helping Logan do that without ever discussing it. Though, he guessed part of it was that Luke simply wanted to hang out with him because he liked him.

Liked him and trusted him. Logan wasn’t sure how he’d earned that, but he knew he’d do his best to keep it.

And because he liked Luke, too, he had to turn his head on the grass to look at him and find out what the two of them were dealing with, even if it was awkward.

“Do the other guys know?”

Luke shook his head.

“Your families?”

Another head shake.

“Have you talked about it? You and him.”

Luke glanced away, then snapped his eyes back to Logan like he was making himself stick this out. Logan understood that more than he could put into words. “Not really. It’s—a thing, but not…no one’s said boyfriend. It’s not like Black and Lupin. Or you three.”

“D’accord.”

Luke didn’t ask him not to tell anyone. He didn’t need to.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Luke said after a moment.

Logan shrugged. “Not because—I didn’t hear anything from anyone. I think maybe I can see it because I lived it for so long.”

Luke looked like he was taking that in for a second. Logan hoped he got it right. He wasn’t Finn, who always knew just what to say to anyone, or Leo, who made people feel comfortable with the kindness that radiated from him like sunlight. But Luke nodded, tossed him a stick of gum, and started talking about their upcoming game on Tuesday, so Logan figured he hadn’t fucked it up too badly.

They talked hockey until they really started to lose the light, then made their way through the park toward the street, walking fast to keep warm as dusk ushered the spring chill back in. They lived close enough to share an uber, and Luke called one as they reached the curb.

Logan pulled out his phone as they waited; Finn had correctly guessed where he was just from a blurry picture of one of the pink-petaled trees from earlier, and Leo sent a selfie of the two of them with goofy grins from ear to ear and a love you, gonna kiss you in 2 days!!!. He forgot all about the weather, warmed from the inside out at the sight of them. He wanted that for Luke and Saint, too. He wanted it for everyone who still had to hide, who still told themselves they weren’t allowed to have it.

The car pulled up in front of them and, just before they got in, Luke put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly.

“Thanks, Tremz,” he said, tone casual but green-brown eyes sincere. “For real.”

“No worries,” Logan said, a phrase he’d picked up from Leo. “Get in, I’m fucking freezing.”

Luke shoved him, then climbed into the car. Logan followed his friend close behind.

#sweater weather lumosinlove #vaincre lumosinlove #o'knutzy #st tweedle #my fic #ficoween 2023

72 notes · View notes