luserstappen

loser cat smoking



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    "Well, how did you deal with them all this time?" Louis demanded, and Lestat, by that point far beyond coherent sentences, mumbled something about not having had to, not since Paris.

    It took a moment to decipher this, then another for the implications to fully sink in, and then – "You haven't had a heat since the 40s? Lestat!"

    Lestat falls headlong into his first heat in nearly eighty years. Louis helps out, as good ex-husbands do.

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    09 Jul 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    i love my life

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    “You didn’t like it the last time we tried it,” Shane said.

    Ilya gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Was years ago. Maybe it is an acquired taste, like licorice.”

    “You also don’t like licorice,” Shane pointed out.

    “Yes, but I keep trying it because Luca likes it so much.”

    “And then you make a face and tell him how awful it is.”

    “When have I ever told you your dick is awful?” Ilya said, looking mildly offended. “I am its number one fan.”

    Language:
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    11 Mar 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Do you want to know how it feels?”

    Shane let his hand fall back to the couch. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and lifted a brow at Rozanov. “What – holding the Cup? You’ve already made that joke once.”

    “No.” Rozanov’s fingers encircled Shane’s wrist and then he was pulling Shane’s hand between his legs.

     

    Or: Shane tops.

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    11 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “...Hollander,” He hears Rozanov say, urgent like it’s not the first time he’s said it. “Shane,” he follows it up with, and that snaps him out of it. He’s never called him that. Shane, reluctantly, lifts his face a little, eyes glazed over as he meets Rozanov’s eyes.

    “What?”

    “You stink,” Rozanov says, concern dripping. “No, you—fuck. You reek. What is—” Ilya’s fingers lift up, tugging at the scent patch, revealing more of the spot beneath it. Even Shane can smell himself at that point. He does reek. Reeks of heat, of Omega, of honey and sweetness, of something that would melt on your tongue.

    Shane reefs himself back. The Omega inside him aches, mourns, whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s needed, though. He scrambles back, hand slapping at his neck to force the peeled patch back down over his scent gland. He backs up till his spine knocks against the bathroom stall.

    “You are in heat at award show? Why would you hide this? Why would you not call out sick? Are you—are you insane? You care this much about trophy?”

    OR Shane goes into heat in Vegas

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    10 Mar 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    St-Simon: roz was so close to killing himself or killing us everytime they’d break up

    St-Simon: the last one was so bad

    St-Simon: put us through so much SHIT

    St-Simon: he probably ended up proposing when they got back together

    Connors: The fact that Roz transferred before we even met Jane.

    Connors: She’ll never be in the WAG GC.

    Sebbin: its still reasonable to think we just made her up

    Sebbin: maybe we all fucking died in 2016 and this is just a hallucination

    St-Simon: man you really got hit hard in the head

    [Or--after the wedding, after everything--how the Raiders, especially Cliff, eventually figured Montreal Jane out]

    Series
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    28 Feb 2026