#Billy loves pho

[marvelmusing]

I posted 884 times in 2022

That's 704 more posts than 2021!

553 posts created (63%)

331 posts reblogged (37%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@becauseicantthinkwritings

@dreamlandcreations

@marvelmusing

@stardustmorozov

@dearmantis

(my mutuals ❤️ and myself)

I tagged 814 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#billy russo - 390 posts

#billy russo x reader - 321 posts

#ben barnes - 321 posts

#billy russo the punisher - 247 posts

#billy russo imagine - 240 posts

#billy russo x female reader - 224 posts

#billy russo x you - 220 posts

#billy russo x y/n - 220 posts

#the punisher au - 191 posts

#aleksander morozova - 184 posts

(can you guess who was this year’s hyper-fixation?)

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#this man faces centuries of his people being killed for existing and i’m supposed to be happy when he fails????

(⬆️ of course this is me ranting about Aleksander)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

His Smile

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Agent Madani expresses too much interest in your boyfriend for your liking. Billy unknowingly provides you with a reminder that he’s yours.

Word Count: 644

My Masterlist

“Have I done something to you Agent Madani?” She glances up at you briefly before returning her interest to the files in front of her.

“Not that I can recall, why?” You press your lips into a hard line, slipping your hands into your pockets.

“The unthinkable happens. Homeland security runs out of snipers, and you pick a civilian consultant to assist in your op?” She sets her file down, finally meeting your eyes.

“So this is about Mr Russo.”

See the full post

702 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

#4

Like Calls to Like

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Shadow Summoner!Reader

Summary: After an unsuccessful skiff journey through the Fold, you’re brought before the Black General.

My Masterlist

A prickle of discomfort crawls over your skin as the small group of Grisha stare at you. Their bright, neatly pressed kefta’s are a stark contrast to the remains of the bloodstained First Army uniform you’re wearing. There’s a war table in the centre of the tent, and standing in front of it is the infamous Black General. The Darkling that your mother always warned you about. Because you were a Darkling too.

He turns, and you’re struck by how dark his eyes are. His gaze sweeps over you briefly, though you feel the heat of his eyes, before he glances around the tent.

“Who actually saw what happened?”

You look around the tent as well, waiting for someone to step forward.

See the full post

793 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

#3

Fear and Dreams

Pairing: Morpheus x Fear Spirit!Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Morpheus has reclaimed his sand, and his helm. His ruby has fallen into the hands of a being capable of driving humans to madness. But you’re not what Morpheus expected.

A/N: Phobetor is actually the name of a Greek god but I’ve decided to alter it so that Phobetor’s are beings of fear (like how Erotes are the beings of love)

“So,” Matthew starts, fluttering his wings as he settles in front of Morpheus’ feet. “What now?”

The King of Dreams glances down at him,

“My ruby. It was stolen from a mortal by a Phobetor.”

“Pho-what?”

“A Phobetor.” Morpheus observes the landscape of Hell that surrounds them as he speaks, “Something mankind has often called a Frightener. They are known to filter into the human mind and create terrifying visions.”

See the full post

946 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#2

White Picket Fence

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Billy and you have to go undercover as a newly married couple in the suburbs, and you’re certain your house is bugged so it’s 24/7 of you two acting like a married couple.

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, little bit of wife kink

A/N: I wrote this very quickly so sorry if there’s loads of mistakes, also there might be some more from this AU at some point??

My Masterlist

“Come on sweetheart, cum around my cock.” Your grip on Billy slips, as your mind goes fuzzy, and you lose yourself to the sensation of Billy fucking hard into you. “Nice and tight so I cum inside you.”

Your body is practically folded in half, with your entire pussy exposed to Billy as he thrusts into you.

“You gonna hold my cum inside you sweetheart? Gonna be a good little wife for me and make sure it takes?”

See the full post

1,045 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Flower Crown

Pairing: Morpheus x GN!Reader

Summary: You spend some quiet time with the Lord of Dreams, and make Morpheus a flower crown.

A/N: this could be seen as a follow up to my other Morpheus fic A New Start

My Masterlist

Out of all the places of beauty in the Dreaming, Morpheus’ throne room is one of your absolute favourites. The glorious colours of the outside sky reflecting through the three large windows that run down the length of the wall behind Morpheus’ throne. The cathedral-like features that give the palace it’s sense of majesty. But your favourite aspect has to be the smooth marble steps which lead to Morpheus’ throne.

You love sitting there during the day, whether that’s with your head buried in a book from Lucienne or just observing the folk from the Dreaming that wish to visit their King.

Morpheus is also particularly fond of the steps, and often joins you. It’s instances such as these that you find yourself longing for, as Morpheus tends to favour the lower steps, meaning that you can admire him without attracting too much attention.

See the full post

1,848 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[winglesscrow]

February 25, 2023:

Didn’t want to go to the gym today, but I did end up going and also walking/running 2 miles. So that’s a seemingly win-type situation.

The assault runner is really changing the game on running for me. I haven’t been able to correct my running in basically my entire adult life - but this simple piece of equipment has really allowed me to find a pace that’s comfortable for me and doesn’t cause pain to my usual areas, like shin splints and what not. I’m super excited to start building up to long distance again.

Had Mexican for lunch, and microwave pho for dinner. Both entrees were A1.

The microwave pho was honestly the most surprising. I will probably be buying many more of these just for the days I don’t feel up to cooking a full meal - which lately has been pretty often.

————————

I’m still drawing a lot, which has been nice. Having a creative outlet of some sort is satisfying.

I’m still exceptionally tired.

Procrastinating on midterms and what not.

Really need to lock it down tomorrow and get them done.

- C.

Currently listening to:

i love you - Billie Eilish

[ruby-austin-x]

Bio and Info

The Basics:

Name:  Ruby Gale Austin

Face Claim: Billie Lourd

Age:  32

Birthdate:  August 11, 1990

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Head Chef at Nancy's Bar and Grill

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationship Status: Single

More Facts:

Nicknames: Rubes, Roo, Ruby Boobie

Positive Personality Traits: Fun-loving, Motherly, Protective, Loyal, Hard worker

Negative Personality Traits: Flaky, Impulsive, Bossy

Likes: Red wine, shopping, books, girls nights out, bad reality shows

Dislikes: Her ex, high heels, early mornings, rude customers

Hobbies and Interests:  Avid reader, dabbles in writing, bingeing shows and movies, baking and decorating cakes

Family:  Lewis Austin (father) Carla Austin (mother) Daniel Austin (brother - deceased) Nancy Thompson (aunt) Frank Thompson (uncle) Ricky Thompson (cousin) Renee Thompson (cousin)

Other Relationships: Paul Nelson (ex-husband)

Pets: several tropical fish

Physical Appearance:

Height:  5'4

Hair color: Light brown, blonde streaks

Eye color: Hazel

Nationality/Heritage: American born, of mixed European descent

Tattoos of piercings:  purple lilies on shoulder, a shooting star with her brother's name on her back

Distinguishable Traits:  Her laugh, blondish, wavy hair.

quick run down:

Trigger warnings: Abortion, Abandonment, Drug use, Death, Drowning, Divorce, Infertility

Born in East Haven, had a brother named Daniel who was five years younger

Parents divorced when Ruby was twelve. Her mother moved to Hawaii and re-married. She eventually lost touch with her children

Her father basically ignored her and was focused on her brother and his football scholarship which caused her to act out. At eighteen she got pregnant by what she presumed was her close friend who she had a one night stand with, but out of fear she decided to get an abortion.

After she graduated her brother died while participating in a fraternity hazing gone wrong. She had a fight with her father at his funeral and has barely spoken to him since. After Daniel passed she became depressed and started partying and drinking more frequently.

Eventually studied culinary arts and worked in a restaurant in Mount Auston. She got married to a man she met there but didn't tell him everything about her past. When they began thinking about having kids they discovered that it was not possible for Ruby and he ended up filing for divorce.

Is currently working at her Aunt Nancy's pub and looking into starting her own business.

Wanted Connections:

Male friend from high school who she was once very close to and was likely the father of the baby she decided to abort

Close female friends who could be neighbors, old friends from high school, etc.

Friends from work - could be from her current job at Nancy's Bar and Grill or her former job at Rivera in Mount Aston

People she studied with at culinary art school

Friends she goes to clubs or parties with

Hookups or friends with benefits from the past

Full Bio:

Trigger warnings: Abortion, Abandonment, Drug use, Death, Drowning, Divorce, Infertility

Ruby Gale Austin was born in East Haven, to Carla and Lewis Austin. She was their first born child, followed by her younger brother, Daniel, born five years later. Unfortunately, Lewis took after his own father in many ways, doting on Daniel as the boy in the family and often treating Ruby as an after thought. Despite the occasional rivalry between them, Ruby loved her brother deeply and was very protective and maternal towards him, as well as her younger cousins, Ricky and Renee, since they were babies. As she got older, the relationship between her parents was becoming strained as Carla seemed unhappy with the life they had built and Lewis's overly structured ways. When Ruby was twelve the ended up getting divorced. Her mother went on a retreat in O'hau, Hawaii to find herself. Instead she found new love in a local man and decided to move there. Her visits with her children became few and far between, and were soon reduced to the odd phone call or birthday card, and then nothing at all.

Without a mother figure, and with her father becoming hyper-focused on Daniel and him getting a state football scholarship, Ruby was left to her own devices. She often sought guidance from her Aunt Nancy, the only positive female influence in her life, but she still managed to spin out of control. She began acting out, bouncing from relationship to relationship, staying out all night partying and experimenting with drugs and it seemed like no matter what she did her father didn't notice her. When she was eighteen, she discovered she was pregnant with a child who's father was unknown, after a few one night stands she had around the same time. She reasoned that the most likely candidate was a close male friend of hers whom she had known since high school, and had feelings for, but since she didn't know for sure she was afraid to approach him in case she was wrong. Because of her young age, and because of fear of how her father would react to the news going public, she approached her Aunt Nancy who supported her while she went through with an abortion.

A year later, her brother Daniel had been attending East Haven University on an athletic scholarship and playing university football, making her father and grandfather exceedingly proud. There was buzz of Daniel potentially being scouted to play for the NFL. By this time Ruby had gotten use to living in the shadow of her younger brother and being forgotten. She was busy trying to build her own life and forget about her past, although she too was proud of Daniel. It was his second year in a fraternity when he was taking part in a party by the lake during which his fraternity was hazing some pledges by making them swim from one end of the bay to the other. Daniel, under the influence of alcohol and wanting to show off to his brothers and the girls present at the party decided to try it himself. However, he didn't make it to the other side, and the party went on without him for hours before anyone realized he was missing. The next day, a search and rescue team found his body in the lake tangled in some weeds.

Ruby was working when she got the phone call from her father telling her what happened. She mourned her little brother privately, but did attend the funeral where her father made some very cold and thinly veiled comments implying he wished it was her he was burying instead. She stormed out and refused to answer when he later called to apologize. The loss of Daniel was particularly hard. She felt overwhelmed with grief and guilt for having resented her brother and feeling jealous of him when he was alive. She coped by behaving recklessly. Partying with friends and going home with strangers which soon became drinking alone to try and forget. For several months she was in a dark place and it seemed like no one could reach her. It wasn't until years later when her little cousin Ricky got into an accident as well and they almost lost him. It was then that she realized that she needed to be there for those of her family and the people in her life who still mattered.

Ruby decided to study culinary arts at the local college and finally do something productive with her life. It turned out that all of those years of cooking for her dad and brother had come in handy, and Ruby had dreams of opening her own restaurant while she worked in one located in Mount Aston. It was there that a man she cooked a steak for asked to compliment her dish himself. He was twenty years older, handsome, and established and it didn't take much for a romance to blossom between the two.

Ruby kept a lot of details of her past secret from him, including her abortion. Her father was not happy about their relationship which gave her all the more reason to say yes when he proposed. However, when the subject of children came up, Ruby did some fertility tests and discovered the the abortion she had years ago had left her infertile due to complications. It was then that the truth came out to her husband who served her divorce papers without a second thought. Ruby found herself single, jobless and devastated in her late twenties Determined to not have to move back home, she took a job at her Aunt's pub as the head chef. It's not the life she envisioned for herself but it keeps her busy. Ruby enjoys a night on the town with friends when she can, but at times, still tends to overdo it when she drinks and revert back to her old ways. She lives in a townhouse in Maple Hills, and although she speaks to her cousins and Aunt Nancy, she barely keeps in contact with her father and has not heard from her mother in years.

[teamtargaryenapologinist]

Drabbles

Overstimulation - Kinktober

Headcannons

d

One Shots

Silk Thread

Summary: Matt smells another man on you and doesn’t care for it.

Bunny

Summary: Matt fucks you with his baton                                                 

She Feels Like Home

Summary: Matt needs you after a long patrol

Shut Up

Summary: “M-Matt, S’too much.” “I don’t care.”

Physical

Summary: You’re Matt’s personal trainer

Please Don’t Be Mad

Summary: Matt’s run in with his ex has you questioning everything about your relationship, and he’s determined to prove himself to you.

Sacrilege

Summary: You get tag teamed and walk away full of cum.

Marks

Summary: Matt comes back from patrol and relieves his stress with reader but is rough and reader has bruises everywhere the next day when he notices the bruises he has a guilty conscience.

Ours

Summary: You go off your pill without Matt knowing because you want to have a family with Matt. Matt notices you're ovulating because you smell different and tries to get you pregnant.

Series

Drabbles

Headcannons

Sugar Daddy Thoughts

One Shots

Rescue Mission

Summary: During a disastrous blind date you reach out to your best friend Billy, and he offers to come to your rescue.

The First Bite

Summary: After you get partnered with Billy for an undercover operation, you’re eager to tell Madani exactly why this is a bad idea. Things do not go to plan.

You Know Who To Call

Summary: You went on a date hoping to forget him, but Billy was right there to remind you who to call

This Feels Like Falling In Love

Summary: Billy and you have been best friends for years and must face your feelings for each other one night when you see him with another girl.

Lights Out

Summary: The power goes out during a really bad thunderstorm and you’re all alone at home while Billy is off doing field exercises.

Never Quite Enough

Summary: You find out that Billy made a bet.

Let Me Look After You

Summary: You’ve had enough of Billy’s attitude when meeting up with your friends after a bad date.

Get it Outta Your System

Summary: After crashing another night out of yours, Billy helps you get whatever you need out of your system.

When Was The Last Time?

Summary: After another disappointing encounter with a guy, you and Billy rectify your problem in the bar bathroom.

Series

Drabbles

Headcannons

One Shots

You Gonna Let Me Be Good To You?

Summary: your little slip up forces you and frank to come to terms with your feelings for one another.

Sacrilege

Summary: You get tag teamed and walk away full of cum.

Series

Terrible Taste in Pizza

Summary: A simple dinner alone in the city turns into a bloodbath. At least a nice stranger lends a helping hand.

Terrible Taste in Pizza  A Damn Good Slice  Cannoli Cream  Cupcake  Pancakes  Bread Pudding  Helado de Coco  Bacon, Egg, & Cheese  Champagne  Jaffa Cakes  Empanadas  McNuggets  Meatball Hero  Pho

[dynamoe]

Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 ← You Are Here | Ch 7

In the height of Network TV days, popular sitcoms would do a special "sweeps week" double-length episode filmed in an exotic, trendy location. Consider this chapter one of those. (It's skookum long, man.) ** read it on A03, it's easier on your eyes

THE STORY SO FAR: It's the mid 1990s. To get discounted "Boy Genius" admission to a prestigious Super Science conference, Billy shaves 10 years off his age, gets a bad haircut and wears very short pants. Now, they've finally landed in Jet City.

“How can they lose our luggage? That thing was the size of a frickin’ planet,” Billy spat, incandescent with rage, while storming out of the door from baggage claim of SEA-TAC airport.

“Our bag is not lost, it’s in St. Louis,” White said slowly and calmly, a practiced master in the art of Billy-whispering.

“A direct flight. Point A to Point B. No stopovers. HOW do they lose a bag?!” Billy muttered, still furious.

“They have our number at the hotel and they will contact us when they can get it back to us.”

“All our clothes were in there and all the ConjectTech merch and— ,” Billy suddenly remembered, “Our invention for our presentation was in that bag! Fuck!”

“It’s fine, Billy,” Pete rested his hand on Billy’s head with gentle pressure, “Do you want to ride around on the baggage carousel for a while until you can calm down?”

“Oh no! I have to keep wearing THIS,” Billy furiously indicated the hated and now extra-rumpled short pants suit he had spent an uncomfortable three hour flight pulling out of self-administered wedgies.

“Seriously, don’t worry,” Pete said with more force, tipping down his sunglasses, “All of the essential paperwork I have on my person and I always take the liberty of putting five-large in unmarked bills up where no security’s gonna look for it, if you get my meaning.”

Billy processed. “You put… five-thousand dollars in cash… up your ass?”

↓ continues under the fold ↓

“Yeah, while you were in the x-ray line,” White said casually, looking through his shoulder bag for the plastic raincoat, “I do it before I fly anywhere as extra insurance in case something goes down.”

Billy still processed. “Why would you… I mean, it’s not illegal to have $5000 in your wallet.”

“It’s a habit I picked up when I was flying down to Mexico every week when I was doing a lot of… recreational traveling,” White said, squeezing way too much sunblock onto his palm, “Just puts my mind at ease knowing it’s there.”

Billy stopped struggling with the ‘why’ and shifted to the mechanics “How big around is five thousand dollars? I mean, even if it’s only 50 hundred-dollar-bills coiled really tightly it’s gotta be a diameter of–”

“Let’s get a cab into town,” Pete slapped the oozing sunblock roughly onto his face, “Airports are depressing.” --

Bagless, they grabbed the first free taxi at the stand.“Take us to the SPACE NEEDLE!” demanded Pete.

“Can’t do it, man. It came over the radio–- bomb threat,” the cabby said, “They evacuated and closed the ‘Sneedle down for the rest of the day.”

Pete and Billy looked at each other. That was unexpected.

The driver continued, “People are always trying to blow up the Space Needle. Like, pick somewhere else to blow up for once, y’know? They never actually do it either. Just... lame...”

Is there somewhere else you could take us? We’re never been to Seattle before,” Billy asked, almost apologetically.

“Yea, sure. The Fremont Troll. The Fremont Rocket. The Fremont Lenin statue,” the driver suggested, “I live in Fremont so I kinda know it best.”

“How about where they throw fish?”

“Pike Place Market? Laaaaaame,” the driver dismissed.

They both felt very small and uncool. Schooled by a local.

“Actually though, you should go to the Gum Wall. It’s under the market,” the driver concluded, pulling onto the highway, “It’s a wall... covered in gum.”

“Oh,” said Billy, confused, “Sounds... irreverent?”

“It fucks the paradigm of what an ‘attraction’ is, dude. The semiotics of tourism, like, blown to shit.”

“Lemme guess, you’re a grad student,” Pete leaned forward.

“Naw, man. I got my Masters in Philosophy two years ago.”

“And he’s driving a cab,” Pete emphasized to Billy with heavy ‘I told you college doesn’t matter’ overtones. Billy was more interested in where this philosopher-driver was taking them. Pete leaned back and looked out the windows as they drove. Overcast. Misting. Dark.

“Hey Billy, what time is it?”

Billy checked his watch, “Bit after four. Three hour flight. One hour of BULLSHIT!” Pete rested his calming hand on Billy’s head to stave off another rage attack.

“Jeez. Looks like it’s already, like, dusk out there,” Pete said, admiring the haze.

“We changed latitudes. Higher on the globe, the sunlight is at a more oblique angle,” Billy shrugged, unimpressed by planetary tilt’s effect on climate.

"Nah, It’s more than that,” Pete turned to the cabbie, “Is the sky supposed to be that color?”

The cabby stuck his head out the window, “Yeah, seems normal. The weather’s pretty much always like this, y’know. Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, yeah?”

“I thought it was supposed to rain a lot in Seattle,” asked Billy casually, as if he hadn’t memorized the annual rainfall of every American city.

“It rains, yeah, but mostly it does this,” the cabby gestured to the sky, “It’s just sort of blah, y’know. No sun. Just gray all day.”

Pete looked like he was about to cry, “It’s so freakin' beautiful.”

“It’s a wall. Covered in gum,” Billy stated the obvious, “This is disgusting. Why is this an attraction?”

“Not every city has Carnegie Hall, “ Pete shrugged with his back to the wall, looking up at the sky. They were in a sunken alley, outdoors but lower than street level as the lay of the land sloped down towards the waterfront.

“We should have gone to see the Fremont Troll,” Billy complained, studying a particularly grody chunk of spearmint smeared into the form of a smiley face, “People put all this gum here waiting to go see an improv show, can you believe it?”

“Believe the gum or believe anyone would wait in a line to see improv comedy?” asked Pete, yawning.

Billy looked down all 50 feet of gum-covered brick and shuddered. He pointed back up at the stairwell to the street above, “The market’s just over there. We could buy some clothes to wear until we get our luggage back,” Billy suggested,

He turned to where Pete stood a minute ago but nobody was there. Billy looked down the alley and caught just the sight of Pete disappearing around the corner, onto the Pike Place Hillclimb down to the piers.

Pete pulled off the plastic rain poncho. It wasn’t even misting anymore. Didn’t need it. He dropped on the stairs without stopping. Actually, he didn’t need his hat either. Dropped. He had a better view of the sky here, walking down the terraced stairs.

The sky was half-lit and overcast, the air was clammy, and he was just walking outside unprotected like it was normal. He kept going down these stairs under an overpass, passing quaint shops full of old tourists just disembarked from an Alaskan cruise ship, stretching their sea legs for a stopover and buying casually-racist native-themed knick-knacks for their friends back home.

No sunblock. No hood. No face cover. No umbrella. No nothing. Don’t need my arms covered. (Jacket dropped, too.) He got a strange look from a retired couple in matching windbreakers he passed going the other way. Fuck ‘em. They don’t know how great this feels. He defiantly stripped off his fuzzy cardigan, balled it up and lobbed it behind him.

“Hey! Mmmphh!” shouted a stranger who just got served a faceful of thrifted angora.

“Sorry, man,” Pete whiffed casually, but he was already on the move down the steps.

I can just... walk around with no real destination in mind, just being freed to go wherever I feel like. It’s like being in an open-world video game but real life, Pete theorized. Like King’s Quest VI but you don’t actually do any rescue-the-princess missions but go out and feed the ducks instead, maybe get a coffee. NPC, solve your own problems, I’m gonna sit on a bench and chill.

He could just make out the edge of the waterfront another flight of stairs below him– a street, the pier, a cruise ship in the bay and the far shore of Bainbridge Island. He bet they’d look even better without his sunglasses. Yeah, he didn’t need these either. He pitched them over his shoulder

“Hey, those are prescription. You need those to see, idiot,” Billy shouted from 3 staircases behind/above him, hopping down two and three steps at a time to catch up. His arms already full of Pete’s cast off laundry, he strained to pick up his glasses with his foot.

“It’s not sunny, Billy,” Pete shouted back, smiling like he was three-glasses-in wine-drunk, “Why would I wear sunglasses when it’s not sunny?”

“Because you’re mostly blind from lack of pigment in your retinas, bonehead,” Billy dropped boring reality like a hammer, cranky at being forced to be Pete’s clothing mule for whatever this disrobing euphoria was.

“This city is the true homeland of the Albino Nation,” Pete declared.

Billy looked behind him at a clump of tourists congregating at a beaded necklace kiosk. “Those weren’t albinos, they’re just Norwegian,” Billy dismissed.

Pete’s pupils were pinholes as he unbuttoned his 1970s cabana shirt with the pink squiggles on it.

“No, like, I’m home. THIS was where I was always meant to be.”

“The Aquarium?” Billy pointed dumbly. The Hillclimb ended at Pier 59, the Seattle Aquarium.

“Not specifically.” Pete mumbled as shrugged off the vintage shirt and pitched it into the bay. Billy watched it fall. Down to one layer.

“I’m not going in after that,” Billy said flatly.

Pete ignored him and kept walking along the waterfront.

“Whatever this is a demonstration of is counterproductive to us not having our luggage. We don’t need to lose MORE clothes when we only have what we’re wearing,” Billy punctured.

“I’m free. I never want to leave here. I don’t need any cover,” Pete whipped off his t-shirt and waved it over his head, “YEAAAAAH!” A ferry in the bay tooted at him.

“Aw, c’mon,” Billy whined, “after I just said—”

Pete pitched the shirt into the bay and darted for a bench in front of the Ivar’s Seafood Bar. He stood on it and threw his arms wide to the sky. His putty-colored rubbery torso stark against the purpley-gray clouds above him.

“C’mon, White. Put your clothes on,” Billy tutted, “People are trying to eat and your nipples are putting them off.”

“SEATTLE WEATHER IS THE GREATEST!” Pete screamed to the ocean.

“People are staring,” Billy said, embarrassed. He suspected Pete was suffering from some kind of lack-of-sun-stroke; he couldn’t cope without being boxed in by oppressive sunlight.

Some dick in the crowd pitched a full cup of Ivar’s Famous Clam Chowder at Pete, splattering him from neck to navel. At least it was the cream-base chowder with bacon bits not the tomatoey one so it matched his aesthetic.

“I AM NOT DETERRED! STILL INTO SEATTLE!” Pete continued screaming while dripping.

The dozen-odd pier seagulls caught the scent and stopped picking french fries off discarded trays and rummaging in garbage cans.

"It’s kinda damp here," Billy noted, feeling the air.

"You’re just too used to the desert," Pete muttered out of the side of his mouth, nearly drowned out by the beating of wings and a chorus of shrieking.

The gulls started swarming around him, dive-bombing to nip clammy nubs clinging to his skin and pants.

"You made your point, whatever it was. Can we please go to the hotel now?" Billy begged, protecting remaining eye from gull-strike.

"NO!" Pete screamed into the ocean over the bird riot clawing at his chowder-speckled carcass.

As if on cue, the drizzle started, growing quickly to a full-on pissing rainstorm. The pier cleared. People ran for cover. The gulls dissipated.

Billy pulled the rain poncho out of the pile of Pete’s discards and draped it over himself.

Rainy clam chowder residue ran down his torso onto his jeans. Angry red beak gouges and bleeding scrapes peppered his pallid skin. His waterlogged stringy hair stuck to his face.

"Ok, fine. Let’s go to the hotel."

The hotel was mid-level at best but to Billy who had spent every night sleeping on a brick of disintegrating upholstery foam claiming to be a cabin-bed, the standard room was filled with inconceivable luxury.

As he bounced on one of two (two!) king sized beds in the room he screamed, “This is so sweeeeeet!”

“You know you don’t have to be 11 once I close the door, pally,” Pete said wearily, slipping a ‘a do not disturb’ door hanger over the knob.

He sniffed at the T-shirt he was wearing, hastily bought from a tourist shop on the pier. Day-glo salmon or orcas or something leaping in front of the Space Needle and mountains, already dotted with dark patches where he had bled through. He couldn’t tell if he could still actually smell clam chowder or it was just traumatic sense-memories.

Billy rolled side to side and then front to back over the mattress, calculating, “You literally could fit nine of me on this.”

“Great, I’ll collar whatever cloning lab guys are at the science conference and tell ‘em to lay off the sheep and get busy on those Quizboy nonuplets.” White deadpanned.

He sat on the edge of one of the beds, “I can’t get that excited about a bed unless it’s got a breakfast tray of Eggs Benedict or a passed-out teenage girl on top of it.”

Billy stopped bouncing on the mattress, and looked stern, “Ew, White. No!”

“I didn’t really mean it. I was just trying to get a rise out of you,” White waved off, “Poached eggs are nasty.”

“We have about an hour before the Conference Cocktail Reception,” White unpacked his carry-on of the essentials: blow dryer, hairspray, curling wand, surge-protector, “We should get cleaned up.”

“I call the shower first,” Billy yelped, running for the bathroom.

“Certainly, you get the first shower. Gotta get all that clam chowder some yutz throw on you washed off, right?” White called after him, “Oh wait, that happened to me, you selfish little pick.”

“Oh my god, feel these towels, White.” Billy’s eyes grew even wider, “This is luxuriously PLUSH. Like... the pelt of a mythical animal made of absorbency.”

“Shave your legs again. You’re showing,” Pete demanded, Billy scowled.

“I oughta get a shirt printed -- ‘My mother shot me up with $20,000 worth of hormone therapy and all I got out of it was extremely aggressive leg hair,’” Billy muttered.

“I’ll do your hair and make-up after. Throw me the suit, I can steam it while you’re in there.”

“Only if you promise me you won’t throw it in the bay.”

--

“I feel like one of those inbred dogs at the Westminster Kennel Club show,” Billy griped as White hovered around him with a blowdryer and curling wand.

“Toy breed or non-sporting?”

“This is humiliating.”

“Nah. It’s just like school picture day. Remember? Didn’t your ma brush your hair hard to get all the knots out, even though it hurt your scalp real bad, bad enough for you to cry and even a whole bottle of No More Tears didn’t make a difference? And she said she’d burn you with her cigarette again if you didn’t stop simpering like a little girl?”

Billy stared blankly for slightly too long. “… No?”

Pete shrugged and curled the edge of Billy’s bangs under. He was going for the complete mushroom cap effect. Sleek, symmetrical and very “I swear I’m genuinely an actual child” chic.

“I hated School Picture Day,” Billy remembered, “The photographer was always pissy because he had to reframe his shot when I showed up even after finding two phone books for me to sit on.

“But now you have those precious memories forevah.”

“I managed to get a picture of me flipping the bird into the group photo of the Varsity Quiz Bowl team,” Billy perked up, “They printed that in the yearbook!”

“Little victories matter the most,” Pete nodded.

--

“Remember, you’re eleven,” Pete muttered under his breath as a final director’s note as they entered the Conference Welcome Cocktail Reception.

Billy picked out their name badges from a tray near the entrance, handing one to Pete and attaching one to his lapel.

“I know!” Billy snarled, “I’m in character. Get off my back. Why aren’t you ‘in character?’ You’re supposed to be my loyal sidekick.”

Pete turned icy, “I’m not you freakin’ sidekick”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m a ‘parent and/or guardian.’ That’s what the application said.”

“Check your con badge, numbnuts.”

Pete looked at the laminated card on his lapel for the first time:

MR. WHITE (Sidekick to Master Billy Quizboy, B.G.)

“You little shit.”

“I put the name you wanted, Harvey,” Billy burbled in a stomach-churning sweetie voice.

Pete hissed through gritted teeth, “If it wouldn’t put my back out I’d come down there and slice your friggin’ ear off.”

“But you can’t so you won’t,” Billy teased with a cruel smile, “Get your master a drink.”

Pete walked off and stood sourly in the bar line. “But you can’t shssccho you won’t. Meh!” he mimicked to himself, making sure his Billy impression was extra slushy and dumb-sounding.

“Oh, hello,” said an elderly scientist standing next to him in line. Great, now he had to make small talk, too. The duffer leaned in to read White’s badge.

“With what do you assist Master Billy?” an elderly scientist asked, benignly.

“Oh, whatever he demands. I owe my existence to him," Pete rattled off in a high nasal whine, letting his pupils drift in opposite directions, "If I displease him he shows me the others he made. He keeps them stacked like cordwood in the walk-in freezer, waiting for activation to remind me I can be replaced. He took away our pigment so we can not escape into the ‘brightworld’ to mix with the real humans.”

The elderly scientist looked confused.

“I would kill for Master Billy,” White said blankly, his colorless eyes staring into infinity.

The scientist wandered off, waiting for a drink didn’t seem worth it.

Billy found Pete in the crowd, holding two drinks, “What the fuck are you telling the other people about me? I just got the stink eye from the world’s foremost expert on microbial biodegradation”

“Just how I dress you and change your bedsheets whenever you have ‘a rough night’ and ‘piss the bed,’” Pete air-quoted unnecessarily.

“Jesus, White! What the hell's wrong with you?”

“Ooh, canapes,” Pete made a bee-line for the cater-waiter.

Sticking close to the hotel bar, the two looked over the half-full welcome reception. Billy nursed a rocks glass full of apple juice as Pete gave him the breakdown of the room

“The scrum of buzz-cuts and clip-on ties in the corner-- Aerospace. Probably locals. That table of the Eddie Deezens – software executives. Reassuring success hasn’t changed them since they look the same as when they recruited at my college ten years ago. Except now they all have Rolexes.”

White pointed around the room “Academic. Academic. Government. Private Sector. Don’t Know. Private Sector. Military.”

Billy followed his finger “Everyone here is, like, super old.”

“Welcome to Super Science,” White said through a mouthful of bacon-wrapped dates, his eyes never leaving the cater-station by the kitchen door, “Ooh, stuffed mushrooms are coming.”

Billy climbed on a banquet chair to get a better view, “There’s probably more green people than black people in this room.”

“Not a lot of girls either,” White glumly observed, spraying canape crumbs out of his mouth.“Weird that no other ‘boy geniuses’ took up the half-price deal, huh? ”

Billy shook his head, “There are five other Boy Geniuses registered for the Conference. Two are flying in from Asia and haven’t arrived yet. One is missing the first day of the conference to compete in a robotics tournament that overlaps. One is an extreme fundamentalist and refused to enter a facility where alcohol is being imbibed— that’s his mother saying that, not him. He’s up in his hotel room. Can’t speak for the last one. Total mystery.”

“Fun bunch,” White muttered sarcastically, “Aren’t there any Girl Geniuses? We could breed more of you.”

“Geniusing is a Boy’s Club. Maybe in a couple decades they can get out of the Girl Detectives ghetto but the infrastructure seems just as sexist as when I was coming up the ranks.”

Billy sipped his drink and looked across the room, “That old creep in the wheelchair keeps staring at me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. He probably just wants to fuck you.”

“WHAT!?”

“It’s a room full of old weird scientists,” White shrugged, popping another mini-taco in his mouth, “Swing a cat, hit a pedophile,”

“Master Quizboy? A pleasure to meet you,” a suave gentleman extended a hand, startling Billy who now was imagining kid-touchers with tenure slinking around every corner.

“Dr. Alonzo Superwash, chair of the Conference Board. This is my graduate associate, Ms. Krutzburg, who will be assisting me for the conference.”

An unsmiling dark-haired young woman nodded in acknowledgment.

“Um, hello. May I introduce my associate, Mr. White,” mirrored Billy, not wanting to open the “sidekick” can of worms in front of strangers. Pete was tunnel-focused onto the cater-waiters. Billy nudged him to bring him back.

“Oh. Right. How are ya?” Pete inelegantly got in on the hand-shaking. He finally clocked there was a woman in their midst and his eyes lit up.

“Master Quizboy, could I trouble you for a minute of your time?” Dr. Alonzo gestured into the crowd, indicating he wanted to break away from the scrum.

Billy hopped off the chair, internally cursing his luck that he wasn’t going to witness the epic foot-in-mouth embarrassment sure to follow when leaving White alone with the doctor’s young female assistant to deploy his charm offensive.

Billy knew he should feel guilty about the glee he felt watching Pete fail with women but made him feel better about never making an effort himself. Billy had literally never spoken to a woman who wasn’t his mother, a quizbowl judge, child prodigy pageant administrator or working in the service industry while he interacted with them. He was too self-conscious of his limitations to even try.

Pete White was a fascinating case study -- with his mouth shut, he was tall, cool and handsome (after the initial color shock wore off) but within thirty seconds of Pete talking, most people-- regardless of gender-- developed an instinctive revulsion. The harder he tried to be charming the faster the dislike took hold. Billy witnessed total strangers take a swing at White, or denounce him for crimes he had nothing to do with. He was the universal recipient of “How Dare You, Sir” speeches, whether they were applicable or not.

The Germans had a word for someone with a punchable face (“Backpfeifengesicht”), but Pete White was the only man alive with a punchable personality. And his accent certainly didn’t help.

Billy made a note to study the phenomenon. Was it micro-expressions triggering a universal, inborn behavioral reaction? Maybe it was chemical, like a kind of reverse pheromone? Could they synthetically recreate and bottle it? Were there industrial applications?

Dr. Superwash had walked them just a dozen feet into the crowd, talking the whole time, which Billy only caught half of, so lost in his analysis of his best friend’s repulsiveness. Billy could still see the back of White’s head and the grad student’s face from where they were standing. He could tell just from White’s hand gestures he was name-dropping celebrities as the polite attention strained, wavered, and then fully drained from Ms. Krutzburg. She was transitioning to the ‘outright hostility’ phase right on schedule.

“Going going gone,” Billy sighed, before realizing Dr. Superwash was still talking.

“—our residency program in Geneva. Would you say?” Dr. Superwash paused for response.

“Sorry. I missed part of what you were saying. It’s noisy down at floor-level.”

Superwash chuckled benignly, and leaned in, “Of course. I should have considered that.”

“I was inviting you, Master Quizboy, to join our international pilot program for the up and coming generation of Super Scientists. I believe I’m not overstating it to predict we’re on the cusp of some big discoveries in fields as varied as subatomic particles to human genetics.

“That’s what I’m planning on getting into after I finish medical school,” Billy jumped in, neglecting to mention he was attending the esteemed University of the Breakfast Nook, daily lectures by Professor Library Card, “I mean, genetic research and neurology. Both, y’know, for personal reasons.”

“The Human Genome Project has only just begun but it’s doing wonderful things. And I’m sure you could take some time off from your studies to get some hands-on experience.”

“That program sounds incredible. I don’t know what to say.”

“Our foundation has partnerships with several campuses doing research in Germany, Japan and here in the States: locally at the University of Washington, a few sites in Texas and of course, at MIT.”

Billy stifled a squeal of delight. He could actually go to MIT! Better late than never.

“It can’t have escaped your notice that the entire field is at a crossroads. Super Science is ‘graying’ and losing focus in a post-Cold War environment. We need to support and highlight promising young talent.”

“Young, right.” Billy repeated. He forgot this was a scam. He was a liar. He was at the conference under false pretenses and these were not real offers he could actually accept. He turned away to not have to look Dr. Superwash in the eye, only to catch the glance of that old creep in the wheelchair across the room, staring at him intensely.

“We’re having a panel tomorrow on youth outreach, I’d encourage you to attend.”

“Dr. Superwash, do you know who that man is?” Billy asked, pointing at the wheelchair across the room..

“Considering your background I would have assumed you had met Prof. Putnam already.”

Billy’s good eye nearly popped out of his skull. Shit.

“I would be more than happy to introduce you, if you like.”

“No. Please don’t. I mean, don’t trouble yourself. That’s ok. I have to go. I’ll consider the offer but, yeah, I have to leave quite suddenly right... now,” Billy stumbled backwards before he bolted.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

–

“Of course, no one had checked the server connection so I said…”

Billy clipped alongside Pete in his best this-isn’t-running-just-walking-casually-as-quickly-as-possible scramble and stage-whispered, “We gotta go. We gotta go. We gotta get out of here. Like, now.”

“Where’s the fire?” White jovially, throwing in a fake laugh. He threw an arm around Ms. Krutzburg's shoulder who visibly shuddered with revulsion at the liberty taken, “We’re all just getting acquainted.”

Billy pointed accusingly at Ms. Krutzburg and bellowed, “You’re off the hook. Scram!”

She let out a sigh of relief, shrugged White's arm off of her and disappeared back into the crowd.

“D’aw, Billy!” White groaned, “I was really getting somewhere with her.”

“Halfway to another black eye,” Billy leapt onto a chair to get into his face, “I’m serious, White. We gotta GET OUT.” Billy was foaming with panic as he jerked his metal thumb behind him.

White looked back where Billy came from and saw the palsy-faced wheelchair geezer inching their direction, dragging an oxygen tank and a net of breathing tubes. Pete didn’t wait for the whole story – there’s no way this ends well – he just bounced. Skidding in the entryway, Pete whipped his centrifugal momentum into a slide through the door with Billy hot on his heels.

They ran but the old man in the wheelchair followed. Slowly. Steadily. With seething hatred pouring out of every inch of his desiccated 90-year-old face.

“We need distance. We need higher ground. We need camouflage,” Billy strategized.

Just jogging the distance between the hotel bar and the front door had totally spent White, left bent over and wheezing asthmatically on the sidewalk 10 feet behind him, “What are we running from?” he shouted.

“Long story, just don’t let him catch up,” Billy shouted back without breaking pace.

“Why am I running away? He doesn’t even know me.”

“Because if Prof. Peebo Putnam catches me, he’s going to murder me with his bare hands and you don’t know how to work the coffeemaker back home.”

Whatever advantage youth gave them was undercut by Quizboy’s piddling stride length and White’s near-religious devotion to the art of laziness and, of course, the old man having wheels and a battery-powered motor.

All of downtown Seattle was built on an incline. It's practically as hilly as San Francisco but they didn’t make a whole “thing” out of it. The slope probably was worse for the wheelchair but it wasn’t doing Pete any favors.Despite having a head start and years of practice of running away from threats, Pete was barely keeping up with Billy’s hustle.

“Go for the Tsutakawa!” Billy yelped.

“The what?”

“That Jetsons-looking sculpture fountain thing” Billy pointed at a mid century modern piece of public art in front of the Central Library.

Billy leapt into the fountain’s pool and clambered up the base, grabbing for the central stalk to pull himself up higher into the bronze sculpture like monkey bars.

“Aw, I’m gonna get wet again!”

“Do I have to cover you in clam chowder to motivate you?” Billy’s head popped out of a hole in the side of a blobby modernistic bronze form punctured with oval openings to whisper-shout, “ MOVE!”

Pete stepped reluctantly into the pool and onto the first level of the fountain. He grabbed Billy’s extended hand. Billy pulled and Pete kicked off, climbing higher into the sculpture – off the fork-tines of the lower crown shape into the open-sided egg spheroid and out over the lilypad platform on top.

“George Tsutakawa's fusion of Asian, Native American, and Abstract Expressionist forms is deeply evocative of the Pacific Northwest,” Billy tensely whispered as the whine of Putnam’s electric motor grew closer and louder before zooming past the fountain entirely. He had overshot by five blocks at least when Pete lost his balance and fell backward into the reflecting pool with a splash.

Putnam’s chair spun around, searching for the cause of the noise but saw nothing. He started rolling away slowly.

Pete couldn’t hold his breath underwater any longer and exploded from under the water’s surface in a white arc. Peebo’s wheelchair whipped around again to face him but only saw a drenched albino he didn't know gasping for air, sitting up to his elbows in a pool.

Peebo’s chair rotated away from the fountain again, Billy took the window of opportunity to slide off the lip of the fountain and into the pool. Finding his feet, he shook off as much water as he could and then darted up a side street.

“Jesus, Billy, don’t leave me, “ White whined.

Being over 90 hadn’t dampened Putnam’s hearing and he revolved again back to see the wet albino stagger up a side street, presumably also in pursuit of Billy Quizboy (née Whalen). Facing a sleep incline, Peebo shifted gears on the electric wheelchair and started to climb.

Pete padded up behind Billy at a wavering pace, alternately surging and falling behind. Pete wasn’t much of a “running” guy. Or a “physical activity” guy, if he was truly honest.

“Billy!” he shouted, breathing ragged and hard.

“What?” Billy shouted back

“You know I respect you as (pant) a full human being and would never (wheeze) consider you “less-than” based on your (gasp) size or disabilities?”

“I never assumed you would,” Billy shouted, confused, “Why bring that up now?”

“I wanted to establish that ON RECORD,” Pete wheezed and panted harder, “In advance of what I am about to do.”

He took a bracing breath. He scooped up Billy by the knees, threw him over his shoulder like a bag of laundry and leapt on top of a dumpster.

“What the fuck?” Billy screamed, dangling upside down over White’s shoulder, “Don’t drop me! Don’t drop me!

“I’m being heroic over here and your screaming is really putting me off, fella.”

Pete looked at the nearest building – a 19th century wreck, probably abandoned and condemned. A distant sound of a jackhammer echoed from within. He shimmied up a sturdy drain pipe for a few feet before he could just reach the bottom-most rung of an ancient rust-pitted fire ladder. He gripped the ladder and used the last of his panic-strength to heave both of them onto the fire escape. From there they rolled into the building through a half-open window.

They could hear the grinding gears of the motorized wheelchair from their point of departure below before it was drowned out by a repetitive pounding and feedback whine from above them. Pete collapsed to the floor, dropping Billy on his head.

The pounding was even louder now. “We go up through the interior stairs, out onto the roof. Jump to the next building over, go down those stairs and come out…” Pete mapped out their next steps, still collapsed on the floor with eyes closed. Pound pound pound.

Billy shook White's shoulder. White sat up. Billy pointed. A pause in the pounding.

A group of stoned-looking, long-haired dudes in flannel with guitars were staring back at them. The building wasn’t condemned. It was a rehearsal.

“Sorry,” Billy murmured apologetically, “We were just in the neighborhood.”

“Don’t mind us. Just passing through,” White staggered to his feet, “Don’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

They hustled out the door as quickly as they could. The band looked at each other and just shrugged.

The drummer counted them in to start the song over but White leaned his head back in the door,“The bassist’s E is flat. Give that peg a little twist there, pally.”

Billy grabbed him and yanked him back out into the hall.

It was getting late and Prof. Peebo Putnam had probably rolled back to the hotel to wait for them. They still had a room and they were still attending the conference, but going back to the hotel was a risk. They walked a dozen blocks south, just to be sure they were out of Putnam’s orbit. Billy had a destination in mind and consulting his hand drawn-on-graph-paper map, he led Pete to an unmarked door in an industrial district.

“Are you sure we should be here? Doesn’t look too ‘tourist friendly,” Pete asked over the sound of his shoes crunching on broken glass. Broken car windows or spent syringes were equally likely.

“Sorry grandma. I don’t go to a new city just to see if the Olive Garden here has the salad bar in the same place as the one back home,” Billy mocked, throwing his whole body weight into attempting to wrench the steel fire door open.

Pete resigned himself and opened the door for him.

“I got this tip off ALT.CITY.SEATTLE.REAL_SEATTLE. It’s not some Disneyfied rip-off for boring suburbanites. This is the genuine authentic stuff,” Billy declared snobbishly, as if Americanized chop suey was the greatest problem facing them today, not homicidal-minded old geezers with wheels.

A dark, windowless room. It smelled vaguely like formaldehyde. There was a pile of shrink-wrapped counterfeit (maybe?) designer purses stacked in the corner of the room for some reason. A huge aquarium in the back of the room seemed to be filled with more slime than fish but was wired some kind of color-shifting neon that cast green, blue then purple light around the room.

The two approached a sour-faced eight-year-old-girl sitting at a cash register. She looked up briefly from her math homework and then nodded in the vague direction of a table. “Ba! Người da trắng!” she shouted.

Billy and Pete grabbed a plastic covered table decorated with a jar full of chopsticks, an ashtray and a bottle of murky sauce with no label.

“Anh ơi!” Billy shouted aimlessly towards the back of the restaurant.

A man in a shiny silk shirt rose from the only other occupied table. He and the other men appeared to playing some kind of card game that also involved mahjong tiles and huge wads of cash thrown on the table. The others looked over to glare at Billy for interrupting them. The card-player, now acting as waiter, approached the table-- a tough wearing sunglasses despite the darkness of the room with recently inflicted knife-scars on his cheek-- and made a face that dared them to ask for anything.

“Great, now we’re going to be murdered by a Triad gangster” Pete panic-whispered, “We shoulda just gone back to Ivar’s Acres of Clams!”

Billy shushed him.

“Anh ơi, cho con hai chai bia một tô phở” Billy said rapidly before turning to Pete, “How hungry are you?”

“I could eat,” he shrugged, his panic dissipated by confusion.

“Một tô bún thịt nướng.” Billy said, pointing at Pete.

“Phát âm của bạn thật tệ,” the waiter grunted, looking slightly amused as he wandered off in no real hurry.

“You speak Vietnamese?” Pete asked, baffled.

“Not really. I picked up a couple phrases. Enough to get by,” Billy shrugged, “You know like ‘Good morning,’ ‘How are you,’ ‘My father is the British ambassador and will not pay the ransom if I am bodily harmed.’ “

“‘I did not conspire with the Cần Lao Party to rig the 1955 referendum for Ngô Dinh Diêm.’”

“Sure, phrases like that. Basic stuff.”

“Cậu bé xấu xí điếm và ma cô của anh ta muốn một ít bia!” Billy heard the waiter yell at the kitchen staff.

He didn't bother to translate that one for Pete as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, still soggy from the dip in the fountain but smokable. Billy pulled the ashtray towards him.

“I can’t believe you’re smoking,” Pete shook his head.

“I’m under a lot of stress,” Billy defended himself, “I think you’d understand that after today. Actually, I can’t believe you’re NOT smoking.”

“You’re studying to be a doctor. You gotta know better.”

“All doctors smoke and the ones that don’t are alcoholics,” Billy stated flatly.

“Smoking is so dumb.”

“I’d take that more seriously from a man who didn’t spend a decade shoveling 70% of the output of Columbia up his nose.”

“What do you want me to say? It was the ‘80s. I worked in TV and I was a radio DJ in LA before that. I was paid in cocaine. It was just part of the culture,” White waved him off and threw to profile, “It would be an insult to GOD not to use this for blow. This is a gorgeous coke nose. I was made for snorting rails.”

Billy rolled his good eye.

“God, I wish we had some cocaine right now. You’d really love it. It’s so… great,” Pete got misty, “Ask your scary gangster friend if he has any hookups for blow. What’s Vietnamese for an eight ball? I’ll ask myself.”

Billy folded his arms. Pete got defensive.

“I have been stone-cold sober since the day you moved into the trailer,” White protested, counting on his fingers, “No blow. No smokes. No hash. No go-pills. No dust. No rock. No H. No booze.”

Billy raised an eyebrow as the waiter dropped a couple of sweating bottles of Tsingtao on the table

White reneged and grabbed one, “Within the rage of standard deviation it rounds down to ZERO.”

“The only time I got to leave my desk at work was for ‘smoke breaks’ so I just picked it up.” Billy explained, stubbing out his cigarette and slamming the bottle on the edge of the table to pop the bottle cap, “To be sociable.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet. You shouldn’t be drinking that,” Pete noted. Billy really wasn’t 21 but at this point what age he was or wasn’t seemed just academic. And confusing.

“I know, I know. I’m eleven,” Billy said hoarsely. He had sweated off all the make-up in the chase. His worry-lines, eye-circles, stubble and acne re-emerged, making him the most haggard-faced 5th grader who ever lived, “But I’m also smoking, swearing and talking about scoring you an eight of a phiện trăng, so a beer with dinner is a drop in the bucket.”

The waiter breezed by and indifferently dropped a bowl of phở and a grilled pork chop over rice noodles on the table with a clank.

“At what point do you want to tell me why some old fart on a hoveround chased you 20 blocks with murderous intent?”

Billy grimaced as he slurped a seemingly endless mass of noodles out of the broth.

“Holy shit, this is really fucking good,” Billy lit up-- the happiest he’d been all day, “Nice one, USENET.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No, try it. This is fucking incredible.”

“I will, but I still want an answer,” Pete warned, scooping up some of Billy’s phở.

Billy sighed, “I’ve told you before I was kind of a shit when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?”

“No, before that. When I was a kid kid. When I really was a boy genius, not whatever this is,” Billy waved his chopsticks over his soggy conference disguise.

“And I absolutely was not a shit when you met me, by the way,” Billy added defensively. White just shrugged.

“The old man in the wheelchair was my agent. Or maybe was he a manager? He was the guy my mother had hired to make me famous.”

White didn’t like the acid Billy spiked the word ‘mother’ with. White had never met Billy’s mother. She wasn’t chaperoning him at any taping of Quizboys, which seemed odd but he wasn’t paid to care about that and he had better things to snort at the time.

“That guy Putnam stuck to us for years,” Billy fumed, “I blamed him for making me do all the stupid contests and publicity stunts. I thought if he went away... if it went back to just my mom and me our lives could be normal again.”

Billy sucked down another tangle of noodles and swallowed hard. It was hard to “eat angry.”

“He absolutely was banging my mom, too,” Billy seethed, “So I got rid of him.”

“You got rid of him?” Pete tilted his head, his mouth stuffed with rice vermicelli.

“I blew up his car,” Billy said.

Pete choked, “You blew up his car?!”

“And I burned down his house,” Billy scratched his head, straining to remember the details, “One of his houses. I flooded his other one with raw sewage.”

Pete looked perversely proud of his junior partner, “You did all that?”

“I was trying to kill him,” Billy said icily, “I didn’t, obviously.”

“No kid likes mom’s new boyfriend but that’s… intense.”

“After that he just left without saying goodbye,” Billy said, staring into his phở, “Mom was pretty upset but I assumed she’d get over it.”

“People tryin’ to murder us is, like, almost routine now,” White considered, “But, y’know, this is the first time I think the guy actually has a real justification.”

Billy sighed, “But Putnam wasn’t the real problem. With him gone I found out Mom was calling the shots the whole time. It just got worse. I finally figured out what she was doing. Doing to me, I mean.”

Pete looked worried and asked cautiously, “What was she doing?”

Billy looked up, “Are you sure you want to hear this? It gets pretty fucked up.”

AO3 | Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 ← You Are Here | Ch 7

Author Notes

Uploaded this chapter to A03 for easier reading

The Tsutakawa fountain in front of the Central Library is way too small to for two people be able to hide in it. In reality, it's like the size of a large birdbath.

I like the idea Billy learns dozens of languages, enthusiastically tries them out and speaks all of them near-unintelligibly. (I have him speaking slushy Spanish in another story.)

Seattle today has as many pho shops as coffee bars. My historical consultant said, unlike other cities with big Vietnamese communities, Seattle had no Vietnamese restaurants in the '90s. (The details of wandering into a restaurant that's clearly not meant for you {with self-appointed Anthony-Bourdain-Jr. foodie dudes insisting on going into them} is based more on New York Chinatown experiences.)

[wyn-n-tonic]

I Don't Count

Word Count: 1,479 Warnings: Drinking. Mentions of a car accident (briefly). Soft caretaker baby Will Miller. It's just fluffy. Author's Note: Fully formed this out of my need for a hug and comfort and decided I wanted to write it for the only blonde haired, blue eyed man I'd ever let get in these guts.

MASTERLIST

The Millers still had a landline. Of course they did. Benny’s big brother was very staunch about his boundaries. If he wasn’t going out after work, his cellphone went off as soon as he walked across the threshold. If you needed to reach him for any reason after that, you could call the house phone.

“But it better be a goddamn emergency,” he’d always say.

She bit her thumbnail as it rang, leg bouncing to a nonsensical rhythm. A drumming only she could hear. Once, twice. It was her last ditch effort to reach her best friend, to hear his voice telling her everything is okay. Three times and,

“Hello?”

Not Benny.

She contemplates hanging up, her voice stuck somewhere in her chest. This was most certainly not an emergency no matter what the bottle she’d been nursing had to say about it. But she can’t. Can’t speak. Not to Will, not about this.

Can’t let the phone fall from her ears. Can’t even breathe.

“Shane,” he sounds concerned, “are you okay?”

“I uh—“ the breath releases, “I was looking for Benny.”

A small laugh on the other end, “it’s Tuesday, Sunshine, he’s at the gym.”

Sunshine, his nickname for her. It started out as Sunshane but he got pissed at the autocorrect of his own brain, stopped fighting it after a while.

A sharp sound rings through, a whistle to get her attention.

“You didn’t answer my question,” it’s warm, “are you okay?”

She sniffs, “yeah, Billy—“

Another laugh, both disbelieving and amused, “you can’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“Just…” another swig, “have Benny call me when he gets home, okay?”

“Are you drinking?” Not amused.

“I’m an adult, Miller, I drink.” It’s harsh.

“Yeah,” another disbelieving laugh, this time at your boldness, “but you sound like shit. Why are you drinking?”

Because I’m forcing my feelings for you onto others and I have the gall to be shocked when it blows up in my face.

“Look,” she’s pacing the kitchen, “just have Benny give me a call when he gets home. I’m really sorry t—“

“Did that fucking boyfriend do something?”

There it is, the sob she’d been swallowing.

“Give me half an hour,” he whispers down the line, “I’ll have my cell if you need anything, okay?” —————

The bottle’s gone when there’s a knock at the door.

She jumps but settles back against the couch, believing it must be coming from somewhere deep within the wine soaked sponge of her brain.

But there it is again, “it’s me, Sunshine,” coming from the other side.

She stands too quickly, blood rushing to her head as her right foot struggles to come back to life. He knocks again, nothing if not persistent.

“Don’t make me bust down this door, you know I can do it.”

She fumbles with the chain lock with wildly inebriated fingers, scratching desperately with her nails to get it through that little fucking hole. It springs free and she’s working at the deadbolt, much simpler, before throwing the door wide to the man on the other side.

“Would you really have busted down my door, Miller?” She slurs out, ever the lightweight.

He shrugs, “yeah but… I would’ve built you a new one so…”

“What's that?” She notices the bags for the first time, swinging idly at his side.

“I figured you were about halfway through the bottle earlier when you called, based on how the swish of liquid sounded on the pho—“

She rolls her eyes, “it's fucking creepy how you do that.”

“—so I brought cheeseburgers.”

She launches unsteadily toward him, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

“May I come in?”

His scent fills her senses, fresh laundry and a hint of Tom Ford as she nods against his broad chest.

Letting go, she stumbles back into the tiny apartment, the couch taking over the entire wall of the living room, and plops back down with her feet tucked under her as she makes grabby hands for the bag in Will’s hand.

He catches her out of his peripheral while he refastens the lock on the door, “can you be patient?”

“Absolutely not,” she whines out, “I'm starving.”

He toes his shoes off at the door and pads to the front of the couch, in front of her, and kneels down. He reaches into the bag and hands her a burger, “I got you two singles because I know you feel self conscious when you try to eat a double. Even when you’re alone.”

“But I’m not alone,” she mumbles through a bite, wrapper torn in half as soon as it touched her hands.

“I don’t count, I’m just Will.”

She almost chokes at that, because he does count.

“I'm really not trying to deep throat a fucking Big Mac in front of my best friend’s older brother.”

“Oh,” he stands and kisses the top of her head, “Is that all I am?”

Absolutely not.

She watches him walk into the kitchen, the clinking of glass and the sound of the tap rushing back out to meet her.

Thoughts swim in her drunk mind, the events of the day—the phone call, the fight, the follow up text messages. Colin’s raised voice still ringing through her ears as he accused her, “I don’t know if it’s Will or Ben but you’re fucking one of them and I’m done!”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He’s soft, pulling the wrapper from her hands and pushing a glass of water in place of it.

“Um, ya know,” she swallows hard around the lump building in her throat again, “just what typically happens with men in my life.”

He looks defeated, apologetic. Colin’s not the first to accuse her of being with a Miller. It’s been a theme of the last three—Ryan, John, Adam—and this makes four. Four men that William Miller wishes he could add to his confirmed kills list.

That’s not what she wants to hear right now though, no matter how safe his words of protection always make her feel. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I'm sorry,” his heavy hand falls on the bare skin of her calf, sending a bolt of electricity through her body.

She was relieved.

Colin wasn’t right but he wasn’t far off from the truth she’s been hiding.

She’s in love with William Miller.

“Hey, Sunshine” his rough thumb across the smooth skin guides her back, “where are you?”

The alcohol has her still, a looseness in the hurt of her heart that makes up her mind before she fully realizes the words are already coming out of her mouth.

“He’s not wrong, Billy. None of them have really been wrong.”

He laughs, fingers stilled on her leg and she is aching for the movement to return as his stare seeps through her pores.

“You and Benny got something you need to tell me?”

Her breath is shaky.

She trails her fingers along his wrist before placing her palm on the back of his. Now or never.

“I think it’s more like you and I have something to tell Benny.”

He pulls away, blue eyes piercing through her, “you're drunk, Shane.”

“Just enough to not give a shit anymore,” she whispers, lifting herself up to her knees and pressing closer to him, “I know how we look at each other, Will.”

“Benny will kill us.”

She giggles, “I’ve been to his fights, my money’s on you.”

His heart swells as his laughter jumps up to meet hers. This is the first time they’ve been alone together, properly alone, since he realized his love ran deeper than that of just a friend.

When he realized on the last mission that he just really missed the smell of her hair when she gives him a hug. Or the way she laughs the hardest out of everybody whenever he tells a dumb joke.

He came home and, to stop himself from being reckless, made sure that he was only ever around when Benny was. He didn’t want to fuck up Benny’s friendship, that was something his little brother could excel at on his own.

But now, with her full lips inches from his, he decides.

It’s a decision he made less than an hour ago when her name popped up on the caller ID—she’d only called the house phone one other time, a car accident, and that same worry seeped beneath his skin again.

Her fingers run through the soft hair on the side of his head, his lips heavy against hers as he pulls her in and pushes her down.

He breaks away, “Are you sure?”

A question that dies with a crash as she tugs him back to her and he melts against her warmth when—

Her phone vibrates.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll…

Benny.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @phoenixpascal | @lexi-b-writes | @empress-palpat1ne​ | @starlightmornings​ | @soyelfuegoquearde​

[fruityfourgalore]

🏷 by @justspicysixthings 😘

comfort food: spaghetti, chili and cornbread, pho, ramen, CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA AND ALL THE NAAN (I’m a basic bitch at best)

comfort movie: p.s. i love you, pretty woman, once upon a time in hollywood (i know, weird choice), you’ve got mail

comfort clothing: leggins, oversized shirt + even larger hoodie, and soft fuzzy socks

comfort song: oh lawdy, ok. buckle the fuck up. vienna by billy joel, to ramona by bob dylan, mr jones by counting crows, maybe tomorrow by stereophonics, greek tragedy by the wombats, finally//beautiful stranger by halsey, vegas by sara bareilles, keep your head up by djo, the sound of settling by death cab for cutie, jaws theme swimming by brand new, about 93% of the cure's discography, and the entirety of taylor swift's.

comfort book: the bible

LOL JK UMMMM i don't really reread books??? but i do love reading poetry when i need answers to all the noisy questions in my head, and that is comforting to me.

comfort game: ehhhhh, i don't play a lot of games... i mean, i play cards sometimes and that is fun?

tagging @original-cypher @mrsmunsons @murdertrashbabyrat @chocolatecoveredchai @queenincrimson @rajumat @smittenwithdaydreams @rainbow-nerdss @spellboundbysteve (if yall want to! no pressure!! and anyone else who wants to, tag me so i can read your comfort!)

[neonponders]

🖤 💕 I’m still thinking about this punk!Steve and soft!Billy post (the original account is deactivated 😩 ) so here are some ~ thoughts ~

• I can’t be bothered with canon monsters but this could be after s3. Robin gets Steve into indie bands and grungy venues every weekend and ~boom. A new Steve is born.

• Billy gets into school on literature/academic scholarships and it’s a very booming musical town (east coast/New Jersey is the birthplace of A LOT of emo bands, but Washington/Oregon are known for music too. Could be back in California as well).

• Steve and Robin move there too because Robin’s tired of being gay in Hawkins-no-prospects-Indiana and Steve’s officially D O N E with his dad.

• Billy’s thriving ever since he realized nobody knows him in college. He can wear what he wants without anyone calling him out for wearing a faded, thrifted pink t-shirt under his denim jacket.

• And god, does he love sweaters. Winters aren’t so bad after all.

• Billy’s favorite thing has always been the beach, but now that he lives in a place with more contrasting seasons, the beach in the winter is still his favorite. He aces four literature writing assignments after letting his brain and pen wander his journals.

• That guy in line at the box office looked familiar but Billy had to rush to class.

• Then he lets himself get dragged into a pre-game evening before his friends drag him to the small concert they’ve been ranting about for weeks.

• Billy goes to the bar with his stamped hand and doesn’t know how the barkeep hears him over the horrendously calibrated speakers.

• “What, what did you get?”    He looks at the girl next to him. “A peach gin and tonic.”    A guy behind her pipes up, “Holy shit, that sounds good - ”

• Is that Harrington?

• “H a r g r o v e ??”    “Nice eyeliner.”    “Thanks! I finally figured it out. It’s harder than you’d think.”

• Billy just stares at him, stuck in that unique sensation of meeting an old acquaintance who is a complete stranger.

• Billy unwittingly commits to watching the pair throughout the show. Eventually (was her name....something Buckley?) the woman writes SAP PHO across her cheeks in eyeliner. So there’s that.

• Steve catches Billy again when he’s at the t-shirt booth. “Pink? Is it a gift for somebody?”

• And goddamnit, he didn’t survive a shit storm household for this. If he needs to beat Steve’s face twice, he will. “No,” he grits out. “It’s mine.”

• “Oh, right on! Are they out of the purple ones, do you think? I’d love to dip-dye it. I acid-washed some black jeans the other day and dyed them red but they turned out pink. I want to look like a rainbow vomited me.”

• Billy stayed up past the sunrise writing a poem about not being in Kansas anymore.

This could really go on forever but a screenshot of my tags on the post if you want more below is the cut lol

[dragonballwish]

I was tagged by bestie @gokustibbies

Rules: answer 7 questions and tag 7 people you wanna want to know better

Relationship status: 0

Favorite color: I like minty colors and lilacy colors... but most colors i love

Three favorite foods: pho, yakisoba, gyoza

Song stuck in my head: blue sea, red sea by billie marten

Last thing I googled: an nsfw manga 🙂

Dream trip: a trip around historical sites in asia 

Anything I really want: a break LMAO

tagging @dbzebra @mableon @yukihime035 @dailycupofcreativitea @masenkoha @dragonballhqgifs @inconnusmademoiselle 

feel free to ignore if you were tagged already or if you just dont wanna do it LMAO

[myneurodiverseblog]

Intro

I'm Nikolas and my pronouns are he/him/his: they/them/theirs.

I was born in Evanston, Illinois but I was adopted, grew up, and was raised in Chicago for the past 17 years of my life.

I was diagnosed with Autism Level III at 3.5 years old in 2004, but with OT, PT, Water Therapy, Music & play Therapy, HippoTherapy, and Sensory Integration Therapy; My progression significantly increase to where I am now still diagnosed with Level II Autism having Asperger's Syndrome. In addition, I also have ADHD, Anxiety, and Tourette's Syndrome. I also am Unilaterally Hard of Hearing due to my severe upper respiratory Illnesses at an early age & struggle with IBS. I am an openly Transgender Male and I am currently three weeks post-op from masculinizing top surgery (Masculinizing Total Bilateral Mastectomy). I have medically transition now for three years and socially transitioned for four and a half years now.

I am currently a student at Southern Illinois University Carbondale studying Hospitality and Tourism Event Management/Admin. as my major & a minor in Music Business. I plan to continue on with a Master's in Entertainment & hope to take my career as a full-time Country Music Singer-Songwriter along with also working in between managing and improving hotels and resort areas/venues across the United States.

When I am not studying or working around the house I love filming my Youtube Videos, Posting on Instagram and Twitter, and watching Saturday Night Live on Peacock. When I am not on social media, I enjoy cooking, cleaning, Playing on my Nintendo DS Lite, and online shopping. I also enjoy finding auditions, attending casting calls, and dancing/singing.

Some of my favorite videogames are Pokemon Generations 1-7; Super Mario 64, Kirby 64, Sonic Heroes, Donkey Kong 64, Donkey Kong Country Returns, Kirby's Dream Land Deluxe, Super Smash Bros, Mortal Kombat, Mario Kart, Mario Party, Banjo and Kazooie, Ratchet and Clank, Crash Bandicoot, Legend of Zelda, and any vintage game known to man.

Some of my favorite musicians are Keith Urban, Green Day, Weezer, Fall Out Boy, Rascal Flatts, PATD, TOP, Foo Fighters, Kirk Franklin, Tauren Wells, Nirvana, Luke Combs, Eric Church, Zac Brown Band, Jason Aldean, Brad Paisley, Keith Whitley, Chris Young, Kane Brown, Carrie Underwood, Miranda Lambert, Jon Pardi, Lady A, Jimmie Allen, Granger Smith, Mitchell Tenpenny, Russell Dickerson, Carly Pearce, Colt Ford, Nappy Roots, Lecrae, Cory Asbury, Lauren Daigle, Ryan Upchurch, Merkules, Jelly Roll, Brantley Gilbert, and many more.

My favorite foods include Sushi Maki, Pho, Vietnamese Springrolls, Chicken Tenders, French Fries, Cheese Pizza, Watermelon Sorbet, Thai Boba Tea, Matcha Boba Tea, Starbucks Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, Caesar Salad, Kale Chips, Gnocci, Candy (Non-Chocolate) Steak Tacos, and my mom's meatloaf.

My favorite holiday is Christmas, and Thanksgiving *(planning a cheap Disney Trip I found for thanksgiving for only $653 dollars for five days). I would also count the entire summer but there are several holidays within the seasonal calendar.

My favorite movies include the Studio Ghibli Anime Movies, Cars, Toy Story 1&2, Finding Nemo, Monster's Inc, Tommy Boy, Caddyshack, Dirty Dancing, Breakfast Club, Star Wars (Episodes V-VII) Footloose, Ghostbusters (1984), Top Gun, Home Alone 1&2, Happy Gilmore, Big Daddy, Billy Madison, Mr. Deeds, Anchorman 1&2 and Tarzan.

My Birthday is February 18th and my sign is Pisces, my moon sign is a Capricorn, and my rising is in Virgo.

I would love to discuss more myself, however, this post is myself in an eggshell. I am super excited to see what each of you post, and I hope you get to know me as well

[three-headed-monster]

fthank you for tagging me @nikolajehlers!

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better

1) name/nickname: Q or QA

2) gender: female

3) star sign: scorpio

4) height: 5′2″

5) time: 10:48 pm

6) birthday: October 23rd

7) favourite bands/groups: All Time Low, Waterparks, Stand Atlantic, With Confidence, 5SOS, R5

8) favourite solo artists: Taylor Swift, Carly Rae Jepsen, Halsey, Billie Eilish, Katelyn Tarver

9) song stuck in your head: therefore i am by billie eilish

10) last movie: home alone

11) last show: big brother canada

12) when did i create this blog: july

13) what do i post: hockey and hockeys, occasionally taylor swift and other fandom stuff i like

14) last thing i googled: dylan cozens kirby dach bowen byram (exactly like that)

15) other blogs: nope!

16) do i get asks: usually when i do ask games and occasionally sometimes about my gifs and stuff (although i would love more!)

17) why i chose my url: cause dylan cozens, kirby dach, and bowen byram ate my whole ass heart and i wasn’t mad

18) following: 70

19) followers: 118

20) average hours of sleep: uhhhh 5?

21) lucky number: 7 or 77 (cause double the luck)

22) instruments: trombone, piano, and guitar (although i can play all derivatives of brass instruments and ukelele and bass)

23) what am i wearing: atl shirt and shorts

24) dream job: genetics or sports journalism!

25) dream trip: winnipeg!  me and my buds are planning a grad trip to pei, ummmmm also australia and i guess england?

26) favourite food: pho!

27) nationality: asian-canadian

28) favourite song: can’t choose won’t choose sorry

29) last book read: aurora rising by amie kaufman and jay kristoff

30) top three fictional worlds you’d like to live in: illuminae files universe (idk what to call it but it’s space), night court from ACOTAR, and uhhhh i guess the archived universe (i read a lot of contemporary lol no universes for the win)

tagging as many people as i can remember: @mrdacher @jonnysboy @pitoftrash @scheifefe @bennsseguin @bitchasslowry @kkane88 @jonny-toews @cometomore @aaron-rodgers @bowenbyrxm and that’s all i can remember so yeah!  no pressure if you don’t want to do it!

[pozpopiliz]

I fucking love the jarring difference between the fandom and the canon. Like holy fuck in canon phos and cinnabar are literally two people who said like three words to eachother and now have to kill eachother, but in the fandom were like "PSSSHHHH CLEARLY ICHIKAWA DOESNT KNOW HOW ROMANCE WORKS, SILLY BILLY" and we sob while pushing them into reluctant lover situations because we have a void in our hearts that won't be filled by the canon situation.

[manchvrian-candidate]

why did you choose bucky as a muse? how long have you been rping? what's a favorite headcanon of yours? c:

anonymous munday questions // accepting

good question! There are so many reasons I chose Bucky, honestly if I tried to list them all this would turn into an essay lmao. Ultimately he just really stood out to me as a character and I felt like I could relate to him. Especially his struggle with his identity and his question of “who am I really?” I admire his loyalty and his strength and that he’ll go to unimaginable lengths to keep the people he loves safe.

...and also because Sebastian Stan ;D

I’ve been roleplaying since I was approximately 12 years old, and I turn 26 in May, so around 14 years, with some breaks in between, but usually my roleplaying has been pretty consistent. I’ve roleplayed everything from humans to aliens to animals, canon and OC, and have loved every bit of it!

Honestly my favorite headcanon is that Bucky is immune to mind control type powers. Hydra messing with his brain so much and wiping it so many times has, on some level, made it so he is now resistant to these kinds of powers. He can still have his mind read telepathically, but if some (say Wanda, Agatha, Billy) tried to get in his head and tell him what to do, they’d fail.

Other than that I have lots of tiny little headcanons that I like... like Bucky’s favorite color being forest green, or how if he were in a college AU he’d study something maths-based like accounting or statistics, or that his favorite food is pho and his least favorite is baked beans, or that he prefers cats to dogs.

[2020inhumanform]

Rules: Answer questions and tag blogs you are contractually obligated to know better. Thanks for the tag, @massivegothdreamerpanda !

Name: Jeremy/Jamie

Pronouns: He/him

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 5'10 

Time Currently: 3:56 a.m.

Birthday: December 10th

Favorite Bands/Groups: One Direction, Panic! At the Disco, Semisonic, Den-Mate, Plain White T's, Cherry Glazerr, idk my tastes change a lot. 

Favorite Solo Artists: Jesus. Uh… Taylor Swift (don't @ me), Harry Styles (seriously, don't @ me), Hozier, Billie Eilish, Adele, Bruno Mars, Ariana Grande, Frank Ocean, Angel Olsen, Madonna, SO many others, jfc. 

Song stuck in your head: lmaooo!  Boys, by Charli XCX, no joke. (Also add her to the fave solo artists list.)

Last movie you watched: Legally Blond, this afternoon w my partner, but it was w zoning-out pick bc we were both tired, so imma add Three Days of the Condor, bc I saw it for the first time recently and was fucking blown away. 

Last show you binged: The Untamed. Taking my previously-referenced partner through it and he loves (obviously). We've been doing 1-3 a day. We're on Episode 38. 😎

When you created your blog: A few weeks ago lolol. But I had one for a couple of years that I deleted for safety reasons last April, and it's fucking staggering how different it feels after spending so much time on twitter for the last few months. Plus I think social media has changed a lot with the pandemic. A lot of my friends and old followers are almost exclusively on Insta or Snap now, which are apps I'm just never gonna be into. 

Last thing you googled: Fuck. Um. I'm gonna skip this one. (But it was for science, promise.)

Why I chose my URL: Just my morbid sense of humor. I'm still having some trouble looking in the mirror and joking helps me feel brave I guess.

Do you get asks: Not like I used to, or like I did when I attempted having a curiouscat blog. The ones I do get are from my friends, and they're ones my friends know for sure I'm not going to answer lolol. 

How many people are you following: 94 rn.

How many followers do you have: Just 42 so far. 

Average hours of sleep: Around six. I can't sleep too long bc I'm prone to bgl drops and waking up with one sucks. I take a midday nap to compensate if I can. 

Instruments: None really. I played the flute for two years in middle school (*insert obvious gay joke here*) and can tap out a couple of pieces on the piano, but don't play either instrument well. 

Currently wearing: Black sweats, a gray T-Shirt, and an ankle boot (they took off my cast early, yay!!!).

Dream Job: Novelist. 

Dream Trip: Exploring the UK, or a Mediterranean cruise. 

Favorite food: Damn, idk. All of them? I'm big into Mexican food bc I can adapt so many recipes for my diet--and bc I'm from California, probably. But I had a chicken pho soup today I almost cried over, it was so good. (Did I mention? I also got my wires removed early! I've got bands now. They still suck and I can't yet really eat the kinds of solids you have to chew but OH MY GOD the improvement! And I can really kiss Gabe now!!!! ...well, kiss him better. lolol)

Top three fictional universes you'd like to live in: Is it fucked up if I say Harry Potter? (😩 Predicated on the Death of the Author ofc.) And maybe More's Utopia, or Narnia. Oh, can I live in The Untamed universe? Because there, frfr.

Consider yourself tagged if you want to do this! 

[kingheadz]

i've been surprisingly tagged by @drmzone (tysm!! ^_^ <33) to answer some questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better

name/nickname: nina ^_^

gender: nonbinary

star sign: scorpio

height: 165 cm

birthday: october 30th

fav bands: the score, the oh hellos, day6, hyuckoh, the rose, the 1975 (as of rn anyway)

fave solo artists: eaj, lorde, post malone, troye sivan, billie eilish (as of rn again :p)

song stuck in my head: nct u - work it (thanks to jaemin🤕)

last movie: big hero 6 (it's one of my fav disney movies of all time!!)

last show: alice in borderland

when i created this blog: maybe 4 years ago in 2016? but i've only rlly made use of this acc a couple months ago

last thing i googled: true beauty dramacool (lmao i love this drama bcs it gives me all the cringey and dramatic teenage glory my 14 y/o self always wanted in a show aisjkn)

other blogs: nope

do i get asks: no but i'm also not active on here ajbsnjkk

following: 89

why i chose my url: kinghead line = chenle, jisung & mark!! they're my ults so chenle's made up name for the trio rlly comes in handy for me at times like these😌

average hours of sleep: 7-10 hours nowadays but classes are starting tomorrow again so😔

lucky number(s): 1

instruments: guitar, ukelele, kalimba

what i’m wearing: sweater, loose travel pants(?) and i have a sort of cape blanket draped over me lol

dream trip: anywhere rlly!! ^_^

favorite food: thai green curry, tantanmen, summer rolls, pho, japchae, minestrone soup

nationality: vietnamese

favorite song: txt - wishlist, nct dream - my page, rm - everthingoes (currently)

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: avatar the last airbender’s, how to train your dragon's and maybe harry potter's?

uhm,,,i'm tagging @lveholic and @punkwan !! u don't have to if u don't want to ofc!! ^_^

[luckychars]

17, 24, 29, 37🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

17. fave food - dude i love vietnamese food so much i will eat pho any day but honestly any asian food is soooo good i love thai and chinese... also tarte flambée, sushi, and my family’s classic birthday meal of duck confit and green beans and fried potatoes!!

24. fave style of clothing - it changes all the time and i would say my style follows trends a lot not that it would show bc i don’t rlly go shopping that much ... i love the soft girl style and mom/baggy/loose jeans and pretty tops with nice patterns or colours and i love dakota johnson’s style and lily rose depp’s too ... mmmm i don’t know it’s pretty basic but cute duh

29. fave song - umm i have a lot of songs that i love a lot but the ones i always come back to are normal girl by sza, poems by hippo campus, and anything off immunity by clairo... i’m currently loving arctic monkeys, billie marten, but if u want i can send u my playlist of songs that are currently defining me <3

37. tattoos and piercings i want - omg omg i want third lobe piercings on both ears and honestly any cartilage that’s not on the inside of the ear, in another life i’d want a lip ring but um maybe not this one, idk about tattoos i think i’m too indecisive for that but maybe a small one under my boob or on my sternum like just words or numbers or a simple symbol like a heart

idk if u were expecting such thorough answers but here they are :)