#Boombox LA

[da-ill-spot]

Saturday, July 29 | Boombox In The Park

Levitt Pavillion | Los Angeles | FREE | 7-10pm | All Ages | INFO

[yodaprod]

Venice Beach (1982)

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for August 17, 2014; #59.

Sugarhill Gang “Rapper’s Delight”

Afrika Bambaataa & The Soulsonic Force “Looking For The Perfect Beat”

Run DMC “My Adidas”

Grandmaster Flash “White Lines”

Special Ed “I Got It Made”

Monie Love “Detrimentally Stable”

Granddaddy IU “Something New”

Beastie Boys “Sounds of Science, The”

Original Concept “Knowledge Me”

LL Cool J “Around The Way Girl”

Whodini “Friends”

Melle Mel & Starski & various artists “Live At The Armory, Jamiaca, Queens”

A Tribe Called Quest “Bonita Applebum”

Biz Markie “Nobody Beats The Wiz”

Brand Nubian “Slow Down” (radio VER)

Spoonie G “Spoonin’g Rap”

Big Daddy Kane “Show ‘N Prove” (f. Scoob, Shyheim, Jay-Z, Big Daddy Kane)

Sequence, The “Funk You”

Kurtis Blow “If I Ruled The World”

Ed O.G. & Da Bulldogs “Bug-A-Boo”

Slick Rick “I Shouldn’t Have Done It” (accapella)

Mantronix “Hardcore Hip Hop” (RMX)

T La Rock & The Treacherous Three “live, Hempstead, Long Island 1985”

Steady B “Use Me”

Kool Moe D “They Want Money”

Eric B & Rakim “Know The Ledge”

LL Cool J “Radio”

Boogie Down Productions “Build And Destroy”

MC Shan “Marley Scratch”

Fat Boys f. Kurtis Blow “Jailhouse Rap”

Run DMC “Rock Box”

KRS-One “Poetry”

De La Soul “Me Myself And I”

Kwame “Only You”

Afrika Bambaataa & Grandmaster Flash “Planet Rock”

Stetsasonic “4 Ever My Beat”

Bonus broadcast; old-school, boombox, and golden-era hip-hop and rap.

[infini-tree]

concept: cu videogame with a tra-la-la button, like how in okami there was a bark button

[diathadevil]

You know you're truly Millennial European™ when you have more than one album of DJ Bobo and know at LEAST three songs of his.

[koufax73]

La Psicosi di ottobre: "Busta nella boombox" è il nuovo singolo

La Psicosi Di Ottobre, il nuovo progetto di Federico Villa, Nicholas Chanine e Jitendra Abey Gunawardena che unisce la musica da rave e da club, creando un nuovo sound chiamato nu disco, pubblica un nuovo singolo: Busta Nella Boombox è fuori ora su tutte le piattaforme digitali. Il brano, condito da sonorità prettamente moombahton stuzzicate da bassi tearout dubstep e cantato in stile jamaicano,…

[247liveculture]

Actor Clay Cureton discusses his upbringing, networking with independent creators, and playing the lead role in the movie 'LA Undercover' alongside 247LC films in this week's episode of BoomBox Weekly!

[leiswxrld]

𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒… “Don’t run away this is what you wanted…right”

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Street racer!Tom Kaulitz x Street racer!black fem reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, p in v sex, riding, missionary, public sex in a car, enemies to lovers trope, Tom low-key misogynistic, no condom, Tom is 18+, inspired by Tokyo drift.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3691 Words

𝐀/𝐍: please make suggestions on what I should write next low-key running out of ideas and dw sub!bill one shot has not been forgotten, writing it soon. Also listen to the slowed and reverb version so much better.

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You were number one street racer in all of California and the first woman to win a race against all men which deemed you the name ‘the queen of street racing’ and since then you hadn’t lost a race until he came along.

You were crouched in front of your car cleaning the exterior of your customised purple Nissan 350-Z, making sure to wash off the dirt from your last race. The soapy suds splattered all over your black dungaree as you wiped the sweat that formed across your forehead, the noises from your boombox echoed in your garage as tap in by saweetie played through as you bounced to the beat, muttering the lyrics under your breath.

You grabbed the mechanical creeper at your side and rolled under your car making a few adjustments and changing the oil filter before coming back up covered in muck and oil. The sudden ring of your phone was heard as you go to grab it, pressing the green illuminated button, “Hello”

“Yo Y/N got a race for you tonight you able to make it for today”

You contiplated your choices, hand gravitating to your hips. You really could use the money, “how much”

“About 1000 grand if you win this race”

“Alright I’ll be there in an hour”

“Ight bet see you there”

You hang up and decided the first thing on the agenda was to take a shower. You get dressed into the casual outfit you normally wore, a short purple skirt and a crop top, matched with long boots and a pair of earrings and necklace to go with. If you were going to race you were going to make sure you looked good doing it.

Sliding into the drivers side, you pushed the keys into the ignition and the engine came to life with a roar and you grinned in excitement as you turned on the radio connecting your phone to it as Shut up and drive by Rihanna blasted through the speakers. You revved the engine, the exhausts making popping sounds every time you pressed you foot on the pedal. You had exactly 10 mins to get there and you were guaranteed you were going to make it.

You took off, zooming down the streets of LA California with the windows rolled down as the midnight breeze hit your skin sending goosebumps throughout. Your hands controlled the steering wheel, making direct and quick turns towards the race. The familiar neon lights came into view as you saw the different drivers parked up in lanes over at the track, you park next to the familiar driver you knew as Devante who looked smug as usual, you wouldn’t consider him a friend or fiend but someone you could tolerate.

Stepping outside the vehicle, Devante doesn’t miss the chance to make his advances towards you letting out a whistle as you throw him the middle finger, “if it isn’t Y/N what are you doing here shouldn’t you be in the kitchen or something”

“Very fucking funny Devante the only person that will be in the kitchen will be you when I beat you in the race” you snidely reply, flicking your hair behind your back. He chuckles leaning against the side of his car as he seemed to eye you up more than usual, “We will see bout’ that Y/N when you’ll be the one making me a sandwich”

You ignore his dumb comment and your eyes linger to unfamiliar face down the far right with the black car which seemed to be a 1997 Mazda RX-7. He was tall about 6’2 from your usual height, the rows of cornrows he had surprisingly looked good for the white boy and he had a long white tee and baggy blue jeans that were sagged. He was beyond fine than you liked to admit even though you could barley see him to begin with and seemingly kept to himself not worrying about the people around him.

“Devante who’s the guy stood over there with the black car on the far right” you say pointing in the direction of the mysterious boy, he looks towards the direction your pointing in and chuckles, “Oh him that’s Tom Kaulitz German racer apparently he’s a pretty big deal in Germany won every race he’s been in”

You nod looking back at the boy almost mugging him, “What don’t tell me the queen of racing is scared she might actually lose to big sensation Tom Kaulitz” he teases and you roll your eyes and cross your arms .

“Puh-lease I’ve won every race there’s no way I’m scared that ‘big sensation’ Tom Kaulitz will beat me, it will be like every other race an easy 1000 dollars made”

He smirks eyebrow pointing upwards, “if you say so”

Your attention is drawn to the two Asian girls with flags, signalling the race was about to begin. “May the best racer win” you salute at him before climbing into your car, fixing the rearview mirror. You check yourself out once more, applying a fresh coat of clear lip gloss before flicking the mirror back up. Your attention is brought back to the two girls as they waved the flags, you revved your engine getting ready to take off.

You smiled at the familiar sight of your fan girls that we’re screaming you on, you send them a wave and a rev of your engine egging them on. Your head turns toward your competitors as they seemed to do the same thing sizing you up as you gave them all a wink. The girls wave their flags counting down from 3 until they reached 1 waving their flags down signalling to go and you take off with a quickness leaving a gust of wind behind.

You screamed in excitement, the thrill of driving going up as your adrenaline pumped your heart harder. Your foot pressed hard against the accelerator, making harsh turns as you watched your competitors in the rear view and they were inches behind you, luckily this race was one lap only and you knew easily you would win. You picked up speed, following the course of the road.

Your hand gravitated to the stick shift changing the gears every time you heard the timed ticks from the engine, the purple fumes illuminated the road as you turned the corner. One of the racers picked up speed going neck to neck with you and turned your head for a second to see it was that German driver. You sneered as he turned in your direction with a grin, speeding past you, “Fuck”

You chased after him, changing gears and your speed exceeding over 140 mph. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as your lungs tightened with anticipation, you were overtaking each other each second and the finish line was nearing, you knew you couldn’t lose especially not some newbie that you barley knew. You were swerving at each corner, the tires making noises against the tarmac as the finish line came into view and you pressed your leg harder on the pedal, not paying attention to the other drivers but you and him.

“Come on…come on….come on…”

And with that you both make it to the finish line and you didn’t come first place. You slowed down, parking your car near the finish line. Furious wasn’t a way to describe how you were feeling, you were beyond pissed to the point you felt actual fumes coming out from both ears. You watched how king dickhead got praises and cheers from the crowd as he seemed to be boastful about it in excitement as if he was trying to intentionally piss you off more.

Devante and the rest of the drivers pull up next to you and get out of their vehicles and you follow, glaring at the one who took your position as winner. “Seems like you owe me a sandwich”

“Fuck off D not now” he put his hands up at your snarky attitude and you continued to look at Tom. From now on he was captain asshole and you would make sure you would make it know.

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A few weeks went by and you went from number one female driver in LA to second place, every race you were in Tom managed to beat and steal your thunder; you managed to lose half off your fan base because of the amount of losses you had and they all migrated to Toms side which he decided to call them his ‘Girlfriends’ stupid name I know and rumour has it that he hooks up with his fans as an ‘extra reward’ how infuriating could he get.

He also liked to piss you off at any chance; embarrassing you in front of his fans and your own, calling you names and laughing at your faults every time you thought no one was watching, you were fucking sick off him.

“I can’t fucking stand him” you voiced out to your home girl on the phone as you worked on the engine of your car. “I know babe you’ve voiced this out every time you call me”

“Well you can understand why though; he took my place as the best driver in LA, stole basically all of my fans and practically doesn’t stop to embarrass and shame me for not winning”

“Girl why don’t you just race him only to prove to him that you can beat him in a race” she suggests and your eyes lit up with excitement, “That’s it thanks Suki talk to you later”

The next time you see him is after the race and he beat you once again. You waltzed your way towards him as he was distracted by the multiple girls that crowded around him. “Kaulitz” you yell out and he turns around towering over you, “Come to congratulate me Y/N” he says with a slight smirk on his face.

“No but I’m here to challenge you to a race tomorrow night at 11pm at the old warehouse” the whole crowd make noises to the sudden call our as you cross your arms waiting for his response, “Bet it will be fun seeing you lose once again”

“We’ll see about that Kaulitz” you reply and he steps towards you, his mouth moving to your ear “I’ll see you tomorrow night when you lose once again to me” you wanted to slap that stupid smirk off his face as you turn around, walking back to the direction of your car with a sway of your hips.

The next day you made sure you looked your best, you wore a tight purple dress that reached your thighs and knee high boots with a pair of purple sunglasses. You applied a thin layer of lipgloss and get into your car watching the time approach 11pm. You drove your way to the meet up spot and it was busier than usual, your fans and his fans in one spot as you parked at your designated area.

You spot suki and devante and give them a slight wave and as usual Tom was late, his black Mazda pulling in and parking next to you. You could sense his eyes on you as you turn to face him, he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes fixing your rearview mirror. “Good luck” Suki shouts from the crowd sending a heart your way and you pretend to catch it sending one back.

The two girls stand in front of you once again, waving their flags in a mannered fashion counting down from three before hitting one and wave their flags downwards and you take off. Both of you were out for blood, refusing to stand down without a fight. Your hand stayed on the stick shift as the other was on the steering wheel, the cold breeze blew into your car as the sounds of the exhausts echoed into the night sky. Tom looked at you with a grin and you wondered what he was thinking.

He sped up and cut you off from turning the corner nearly making you spin out of control into the street lamp in front of you. “That fucker” you screamed and you pressed your foot on the accelerator gaining speed until you we’re neck to neck with him and you turn to face him, “Pull over now” you yell signalling go the side of the road, he seems to catch on and follows you onto the side of the road, parking behind you.

You get out of the car and march towards his car, knocking on his window and he reluctantly rolls it down, “What the fuck is your problem you cut me off back there and I nearly hit a street lamp”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about princess maybe racing isn’t cut out for women like you”

“What the fuck do you mean by it isn’t cut out for women like me” you question,

“You know exactly what I mean I don’t need to repeat myself” your fists were clenched and you were getting irritated by the minute and that surfaced heat felt like it needed to be let out instead of being bottled up.

“You know what fuck you Tom you think your such a fucking know it all showing off whenever you get the chance, you and your stupid car should’ve stayed in Germany you misogynistic prick” you sassed, pointing toward his car and him with every word.

“Oh Yeah is that how you feel about me” he reply’s, clearly amused by your response’s.

“Yeah that’s exactly how I feel and I’d appreciate if you would kindly listen and fuck off” he gets out his car slamming the door and he backs you up towards the back of his car.

“Or what princess what will you do if I don’t” he challenged, pressing a hand onto the rear end of his car.

You could feel it, the sexual tension was off the charts both refusing to stand down. You were Infuriated with him and it made you want to strangle him while the other half of you was annoyingly turned on by the argument you had spewed with him and you didn’t fail to notice his eyes flicker to your lips that were smeared with clear scented lipgloss and also don’t miss how he looks at the fat of your thighs and the way your dress hugs your body, showing off what you had to offer.

“I’ll make you” you say, pointing in his direction.

“Then make me princess”

You push him onto the side off his car and smash your lips against his, venting out the frustration and anger you felt towards him from the past few days. He moans in response, pulling on your hair as your noses bash against each other in the hungry kiss. You pull away and your lip gloss was smudged onto his lips and you giggle to yourself pointing to the back seat, “Get in the fucking car ”

“Don’t need to tell me twice” he replys,

You both climb into the back of his car, shutting the door behind you. You climb into his lap and your hands automatically cling to his shoulders and you begin grinding your clit into his pelvic bone creating a euphorical sensation as your hands went to press at his collar bone. You both touched and grabbed wherever you pleased not caring for the potential onlookers that could catch you both in the sinful act, “Fuck” he mutters, biting on your bottom lip as he helped you grind into him, using his hands.

His hands move to your ass, kneading it in both as he continued to grind into you in slow motions almost as if you were riding him. He curses feeling the wet spot of your arousal on top of his baggy jeans, you let out cute moans and whimpers as he left red love bites and markings across your neck, claiming you as his.

“Already soaking wet for me” he muttered bringing two fingers to brush against the fabric of your panties and your juices coat his fingers. He pushes your panties to the side and slides two fingers into you with intense eye contact, stroking his fingers every time with vulgar gestures. “Oh fuck”

Your fingers clench around his fingers as the squelchy sound of arousal filled the car. He watched how you lost yourself on his fingers, pumping them in and out as your legs began to shake. Your head fell back as he stroked your spot every time, “Shit” you curse and you come all over his fingers as he slowly came to a stop before pulling them out.

He brings his fingers to his mouth tasting you and he groans around them, “Taste so fucking sweet”

You were so turned on beyond recognition and you needed him to be inside you then and there. You unbutton his jeans and he helps you pull them off along with his boxers exposing his fully erect cock and immediately direct it to your opening, “Eager are we” he teased, watching as you sunk down on his length with a gasp. “So fucking tight…shit”

You collected yourself for a second before lifting up and sinking back down, a guttural moan emits from his mouth as you began riding him. You hated to admit that he was bigger and thicker than the others you had hooked up with in the past, it felt like with every bounce he was breaking you apart on his cock. “So…fucking big”

He watched you under his gaze, hands going to your hips as he grinded your clit into his hip bringing immense pleasure that you felt you would come that second by just a few thrusts. “You needed this dick didn’t you” he questioned and you moaned in response, hand tightening on the seat behind him. “Fuck yourself on my cock…just like that ”

You were fully bouncing on him, the car shaking and the windows fogging up as your hand fell onto the window leaving a hand print on it. His head rolled back, groaning at how tight you were almost like a vice gripping him with immense tightness. “How long have you thought about fucking me Y/N”

“For so- fucking long” you confess, you we’re in the moment this would be forgotten by tomorrow morning. “Yeah tell me how fucking good I’m making you”

“Mhmm-”

“Tell me”

“Your making me feel so fucking good” you admit, eyes rolling back as your orgasm neared. “I’m gonna cum all over you Tommy all over your fat cock” you moan out, sinking your teeth into the crook of his neck. “Wait I’m not done with yet” he stops you and rolls you both over so that your back is against the car seat and he hovered on top of you.

He began pounding into you, every thrust hitting that spongy spot inside, your voice box emitting raspy moans feeling your breath caught in your throat as tears began to form in your waterline. “Ohhhh-fuck” it was too much for you to handle, trying to escape his harsh pounding, “Don’t run away this is what you wanted…. right” he mocked bringing his hand to remove the top of your dress, exposing your tits.

He slapped one of them grunting as he felt himself get closer and closer, “Where do you want it- fuck” he asks and you open your eyes, “In me….cum inside of me” you scream, wrapping your arms around his back and bringing him into another kiss, tongues tangling and moans mixing. “Shit”

You finally cum, your body convulsing as your orgasm hit you like a brick. Toms pace never faltered chasing his own before releasing inside you with a grunt and you moan at the warm liquid filling you up. You were out of breath feeling the now newfound embarrassment of fucking someone you hated and avoided eye contact. “Don’t get shy on me look at me” he finally says, gently putting his hand onto your cheek and forcing you to look at him.

“No one ever said I was shy you just assumed it” you lie, huffing out. “Mhmm definitely believe you princess” your cheeks flutter at the nickname and you curse yourself, why were you all of a sudden shy around him it made you want to puke. “I’ll let you win the race”

“Wait what really” you say surprised, what was he getting at.

“I wouldn’t say this if i didn’t mean it you know I love to win a race”

You roll your eyes, “and what’s the catch”

“The catch is you have to let me take you out somewhere”

“And why would I willingly agree to that”

“Because you like me”

“Just cause we fucked don’t mean I like you idiot”

“Tell that to someone else sweetheart don’t think I didn’t catch the way you reacted to me calling you princess earlier”

“Fuck off” you reply with playful hit on his chest,

“Admit it”

“A girl never spills her secret but I agree to your stupid date because I want to win”

“Mhmm keep telling yourself that”

He gives you one more kiss before you both get dressed and you cringe at the feeling of his cum falling down your leg. “Race you there loser” you mimic him from earlier and you get into your car, taking off towards the finish line.

Of course you came first place and your fans cheered like crazy congratulating you as you thanked everyone. Tom pulled up next to you and he gives you a knowing look as he walks toward his friends and you walk towards Suki giving her a hug. “Congrats Y/N what does it feel like to be LA’s winner in the first time in 4 weeks” she says pushing a fake microphone towards your lips, “Feels fucking amazing that’s what it feels like” your eyes gravitate to Tom and he was already looking at you, sending a wink in your direction.

“Definitely feels amazing”

[pwlanier]

Kenny Scharf

Boombox

USA, 1982

acrylic and strass on radio

LA MODERN

[octuscle]

Vamos a la Playa

Thomas had thought that the flights from Düsseldorf to Mallorca were already a punishment. As beautiful as the island was, on the way there, the owners of fincas in the Serra de Tramuntana or townhouses in Santa Catalina mixed with the boozers and party animals who were on their way to El Arenal or Cala Rajada. But as unpleasant as these people were at the airport or on the plane, that was no comparison to what he was experiencing right now at Stansted. His flight with British Airways had been canceled, he had had to rebook on Ryanair. And instead of a comfortable seat in business class, he was about to have to squeeze into a middle seat in row 34. Thomas took a deep breath. In four hours, he would be in his car, pop the top, and drive through the evening toward his home in Artà.

Waiting at the gate were mostly young men. Most of them already drunk. Playing each other videos on their cell phones. Listened to loud music from boomboxes. All with far too much hand luggage. Undisciplined pushers. When Thomas finally arrived at his seat, it smelled of beer and sweat. There wasn't a cubic centimeter of space left in the overhead compartment for his Louis Vuitton Weekender. And the two young men to his right and left completely ignored his presence, chatting over him in barely intelligible English. Even before the plane took off, Thomas was annoyed. It was cramped, noisy, it stank. The two men to his right and left stretched regularly so that he had their hairy armpits right in his face. And the pinnacle was when the lad in the aisle seat farted loudly and stinkily. First booming laughter from his pals. Then a laughing "Sorry mate, I think I need to take a shit." If that was supposed to be an apology, it was more than questionable. He was getting woozy. Maybe he should take the opportunity that the aisle seat was free, and also go to the toilet once. Of course, both toilets were occupied. The first one that became free was the one of his seat neighbor. "Mate, believe me, you don't want to go there right now." said the young man with an admittedly disarming smile. And farted once more. Thomas now urgently needed to go to the toilet himself. He pushed past his seatmate and closed the door behind him. What a terrible stench. Thomas tried to hold his breath. But he couldn't. And then he had to fart himself. Louder and stronger than ever before in his life. He felt sick from his own stench. And had to vomit into the airplane toilet.

When he stood again and washed his face, he stared into the mirror. Hadn't he been wearing his jacket when he'd gone to the bathroom? And why was he wearing tennis socks and bathing slippers? He had worn his loafers without socks… He was completely confused. Must have been the stench. He shuffled back to his seat. Now he needed a beer. The cans in his weekender were still reasonably cool. He offered Liam and Shane, his seat neighbors, a beer as well. And all three emptied the cans down the drain. Thomas clearly decided the final burping contest in his favor. By the time they were on approach to Palma, the beer and liquor supplies of the three had been eliminated. Liam was already totally drunk again. The lanky fella just couldn't handle anything. The fact that he had pissed his pants while sleeping off his intoxication was fortunately not visible in the already wet shiny training pants. Of his pals, Tom was clearly the most muscular. He liked to show off his biceps. T-shirts were for wimps, he had only packed a couple of tank tops and undershirts for the two weeks of Magaluf. Two more swim trunks and a change of shorts. Everything he needed fit in his fake MCM backpack.

His parents were happy when he announced his arrival at their vacation home with a video call. Tom had kept quiet about the fact that Liam had made a mess of the bathroom while puking, and that Shane had shagged a horny blonde he'd met on the bus to Magaluf in his parents' bed immediately after arriving. The Polish cleaning lady would get silence and pain money next week. And until then, the three of them would drink and fuck like it was only possible on Mallorca.

[blood-injections]

show pony hcs?

WOO SHOW PONY YEAH OF COURSE

They're Dr D's actual nephew and grew up visiting him and being a little helper at the radio station he's had since the nineties.

No sense of self preservation honestly, okay so this is like my favorite headcanon for them just because its silly and they're a badass. So they grew up visiting LA but dr d took them away from it before the and of the wars so they never lived in it while it turned into battery city, and they've never been captured, but they have indeed been to battery city. Because they've broken in. Solely to be gay do crime. They sneak into the city to graffiti shit and flirt with pornodroids and recruit them to throw bricks into windows with them(not of apartments or townhomes, just the research and bli buildings and occasional business). They wear their skates or bring a skateboard, they dont drive, half the time they bring a boombox, blasting the fucking beastie boys or something in the middle of the night while they skate around the city, and somehow theyve never been noticed by bli or had to fight their way out, theyre crazy and i love them

Punk as shit, you don't grow up with your cool uncle that was openly gay in the nineties without learning that capitalism sucks and cops aren't your friends. Its a big part of why they sneak into the city and be a nuisace, becuse they want to do more than just fight from the zones, because that city was their home once, before bli took it over and put up the walls, and unlike most joys who hate battery city and just want to burn it to the ground, pony wants to save it. They want to cause a more direct change, something physical thats there in the morning, so that the juvie halls and city folk can see it and see bli working to scrub away grafiiti and fix shattered windows and they'll all know theres someone else out there that doesn't agree with bli, fighting for them and maybe theyll be inspired to do more too. And its why they recruit the droids or juvie halls they come across and put a brick in their hand, because the power that comes with that, the inspiration, it spreads, because Pony's read the stories about the Stonewall riots and knows that if enough of the city could unite to fucking fight from the inside, they could make a real change.

Cherri's their older brother, not biologically but they dont care, they were both too young to fight in the wars but thats where they met, when dr d was looking after them and took cherri in when he lost his dad, who was dr d's friend. They grew up in the zones together, learned to shoot together, figured out out who they are together, they're fuckin siblings.

Their gender is whatever annoys you the most at the moment, it also depends on who theyre around around, like with Poison they're like im ur girlfriend vs with Cherri like yeah im your brother. They dont care what people call them.

Childhood best friends with Newsie but you'd never know it. They fight like siblings but they're thick as theives. When the wars started they were kids that thought theyd never see eachother again, but they reunited years later as killjoys

They're crazy friendly, like terrifyingly outgoing. They love everybody and everybody loves them but they manage to stay pretty humble about it

Theyr'e super dramatic and LOVE to gossip

Horrible artist, cant draw for shit. Great at collages though, they make all the zines and posters for radio shows. You can tell when they made one because there's glitter on it.

Has a helmet. Never wears it.

Proud polycule girlfriend of jet star and party poison

[fastcardotmp3]

dealers choice bc i am ITCHING to see your eddie imprisonment fic but also the 911 coma fic has me bouncing off of walls!!!!!

well then BOTH for you my beloved senford! i have can't shut up disorder when it comes to words for my friends!!

eddie imprisonment fic - it's been a while since i've talked about it so for context it's the longfic version of this from febuwhump!

“Almost— almost—”

“Shut up— shut up—”

“Just another step! Come on, Munson, show me what you got!” 

“Fuck, fuck, motherfucking fuck fuckfuckfuck—”

When Eddie collapses, gasping and panting and sweating head-to-toe, in the little plastic chair awaiting him, Steve feels momentarily overtaken by something big and swelling and warm in ways the world just isn’t anymore. 

Yeah, it’s hard to see Eddie struggling so much to get better, but he’s on his feet. He’s moving and he’s healing and that’s just— that’s just—

“Atta’ boy!” Steve lets slip as he pushes off his lean in the doorway and steps fully into the room, clapping along with Lucas’s overdramatic whoops of congratulations. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Eddie deadpans through his heave of breath, all but melting in his seat and stretching his bad leg out in front of him with a wince, but there’s something there. There’s a flicker of it, underneath the put-upon moaning and groaning, the pride. 

Steve grins with the full plump of his cheeks as he approaches, stands right there over Eddie’s seat and doesn’t avert his gaze as he reaches behind him and brings around the boombox to hover over Eddie’s lap. 

“Your reward, sir?” he offers glibly, but not without his fair share of genuine joy. He has to grab it while he can. There’s some fucked up shit behind a fucked up door three floors up and they’re gonna have to talk about it, but for now he’s gonna grab it while he can. 

911 soap opera medicine post-coma fic!

When they were still living in El Paso, both before and after Shannon left, Eddie had concocted this idea of what kind of father he was going to be now that he was no longer overseas. He wanted to be present and he wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong, but not in the same way his own father had been strong during Eddie’s upbringing, no, he wanted to be stable and steady and open enough to be someone Christopher could come to. No matter what he needed, no matter when, no matter to what degree. 

Eddie came home from the war and he packed all his little fucked up parts away and, even if he didn’t remotely succeed, he tried to be whatever Christopher needed from him. By the time they made it to LA, he was starting to see it as less of an impossibility. 

By the time he got shot, he was finally, finally, starting to make it actually happen. 

But that was then. 

Eddie doesn’t want Christopher to have to lead the way, but he follows nonetheless, because for the moment it’s the only way he can recalibrate his knowledge of what it even is that Christopher needs from a father. 

Who does Eddie need to be now? Who does he need to become in order for his son to trust him to shoulder his burdens and take his hurts like he did two years ago? 

How does Eddie, not quite as proficient in packing away those fucked up parts as he was when he was still numb from war and grief, become that? 

Where does he even start? 

[insomniac-jay]

DC OC | Costumes

Finally getting around to this. I'm not gonna say this is my last DC OC post bc yall know I'm a liar

Billie Sunday | Faerie

As I said in a post before, Billie's costume, along with the Knights of Titania as a whole, is magical girl inspired with fairy or butterfly motifs. Her costume is obviously pink bc we have to follow the law of magical girl here /j. I would recommend using either a darker or lighter shade of pink. Other things I'd recommend are adding a pair of shorts, a cute domino mask, and an opening for her wings.

A good reference point is Sailor Moon in her super form

Greynasha Wiley | Crypt

Oh boy Greynasha...

First and foremost, her costume needs to be both practical and stylish. She can have her legs covered since she doesn't use the bones there. A huge part of her costume is her hat that has a mourning veil attached to it. The veil covers most of her face except her mouth.

Sophia Evangelista | Angeknight

For Sophia, I actually do have a concept picture of her costume (meiker.io you are a lifesaver) (ignore the blonde hair and white wings)

It's a start but I also want to add some homages to her Bana heritage (and maybe a few references to Egyptian goddesses since Sophia is technically Egyptian) and add some more pieces of armor. And how could I forget that it needs to be practical? She'd be in a jumpsuit a la Donna Troy.

Marietta Brooks | Glamor

Mari's is a simple pink catsuit (think of the ones the main trio of Totally Spies wear) that can turn black when she needs to go stealth mode and a stylish utility belt. Add some type of mask to hide her face and she's good to go.

Venus Parks | Star Sapphire/Boombox

I've already talked in great detail about Venus's Star Sapphire outfit, so we're just gonna focus on her Boombox one.

Given that she's piloting a mech, Venus's new hero costume looks like she's a female pilot in a mecha anime except that it's not skintight.

Daliah Yukimura | Snow/Snowdancer

Much like Sophia, I actually do have an idea for Daliah's costume during both her preexisting vigilante career and YJ membership, just without the jacket

As for when she becomes Snowdancer, her costume would pay homage to her mentor, Golden Glider. It'd also look closer to what professional ice skaters wear, a symbol of both Daliah getting older and her increasing skill.

Elyon Morningstar | Pandora

Elyon deserves to look like a stereotypical witch, hat, broomstick, and all. She'd revel in it so much that it holds over into her later hero career

Sasha Ray | Wavedancer

This dress could easily be made to be Sasha's costume. Plus it'd go great with her powers.

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @peachyblkdemonslayer @punkeropercyjackson @mayameanderings

[elliotts-personal-property]

8, 20, 33, 49 for the music asks 💖💖

8: Songs that you could listen to forever and never get tired of?

Hysteria by Def Leppard

Stand Up (Kick Love Into Motion) by Def Leppard

La Bamba by Ritchie Valens

Little Dreamer by Van Halen

Waiting by Mammoth WVH

20: What type of music device do you own/use?

I listen to music on almost every format, I use Spotify, have a record player, cd player, a walkman, discman, (I have my mom to thank for giving me her two old ones) and a small boombox.

33: If you had to listen to only one band for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

That’s such a tough question but if I had to choose I think I’d go with Def Leppard. One, because they’re one of my biggest obsessions (and have been for a while now) and two, because I feel like there’s a lot of range in their discography where I don’t think I’d get bored since there’s a wide musical range across all albums.

49: You are locked inside a closet with your favorite band member for an entire day/night. What do you talk about/do?

I would be locked inside with Joe so here’s my realistic answer:

I’d want to get to know him on a more personal level, but I’d also love advice from him. Specifically on how to have a positive mindset to achieve your dreams, because clearly he’s done that. More than anything I’d just love to hear all he’s gone through and how it’s shaped him into the person he is today. Like sure you can read up on him and the band but I feel it would be more true to life hearing it from the source. Maybe after that we’d fangirl about some of the bands we both like, exchange recommendations and all that stuff. And lastly I wanna get a hug from him🥹💗

Unrealistic answer: I wanna FUC-

[drreamgirls]

I have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of something I still don't understand but love to touch on your ribs, a stranger one on the inside of your arm. you got it when you were still just a kid. my first tattoo was a star instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool. When will you be home? Come home I love you I miss you you're my life Isabelle writes, it's just a text, really, she's probably have had too much sweet wine, and Mizu does not know how to tell her she's missed her too other than call her and ask her if she's been eating, and you're lying. Donuts are not fucking dinner. And yes they are. You're just dour, old and no fun.

And then laughter.

They talk for four hours on the phone while Isabelle strings together a garland. They talk for six hours while Mizu cleans out her guns, sat on the floor in a blank grey empty flat somewhere in downtown Manhattan. There's blood on her hands that is not her own but Isabelle can't see it she's so far away from her now, her absence is a bruise. She tells her I saved a Pinterest tip for the summer about making paper kites. And I planned us a week-long trip to maine, mapped out my favorite places for a hike. Maybe in may... Mizu does not say anything, she hums, thinks that she would go anywhere with her, and isn't that something. She remembers how they had driven all the way from Las Cruces up to Albuquerque and Isabelle had fallen asleep on the ride home, and Mizu had turned down the radio so it wouldn't wake her up. Her quiet hands folded over hers on her thigh. The fire of her dark eyes on hers in that Denny's she had been working at those days, the two of them sat together on that car in the junk yard behind the diner, passing a bottle of beer back and forth between them. Isabelle had been smoking constantly, her skin smelled like drenched violets and smoke, and there was fire in her eyes and something else in them. Hunger. Revelation. Mizu does not drink she's never had. But when she had passed the beer bottle to her with that strange smirk on her mouth and said come on, she had prised the bottle from her fingers, its neck so slick with dark plum lipstick where Isabelle's mouth had been, and she had pressed it to her own lips, suddenly wanting her on her mouth. It had left a smudging of lipstick on her chin and Isabelle had leaned up on her left elbow, licked her thumb and wiped it away, her skin like silk against her face. Her eyes had flashed like mirrors under the street lamp.

Isabelle had once told her that her mom used to love hallmark movies, she would watch them every Saturday, smoking wine in a bottle on the floor, so she had grown up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one... Isabelle drawled one moonless August night on the hood of that car next to her, her body burning into Mizu's side. Summer was dripping over them, sweet and hot and languid. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or your teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. I thought that meant constant screaming was a good thing. I thought that meant love looked like a week of anger, because it was worth the weekend's boombox dramatic apology. I thought quiet love was boring. That love had to blot out everything...look like ruining your own dinner table - but what a fucking feast you've had! you're so fucking lucky. She had been so drunk. Mizu had not said anything but she had reached over and gently brushed her curls from her face, wiped a droplet of beer off her mouth. Isabelle's lips had parted like a flame, suddenly sucking on her fingers, and Mizu had pulled her hand back as though scalded by fire, had said you're drunk. Let's get you home. And Isabelle had been suddenly frantic, had said no, not yet. I wanna be with you. please, Mizu and they had lied back down on the hood, under a summer sky purring with heat, Isabelle's head resting against Mizu's and even the air had seemed to shudder at the simple sweetness of it.

It had been easy, falling in love with her. She had not known how to love, but she had wanted to. It had been a shock to her system, suddenly discovering that she had a heart or as good as, pulsing and throbbing for her.

Their love had not looked like a gun; it had felt like a scarf, Mizu's hands smoothing it down Isabelle's chest in the winter, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about her asthma attacks being cold-activated. Still is. It looks a little like: Isabelle racing her while she's wearing heels, and she's laughing and it's the only thing that keeps her from sliding into that dark dead place inside of her. She holds her hand to guide her downhill while walking the dog. They dance in the living room of their new flat to waltz of the flowers, or more like, Isabelle dances (she's always loved ballet) and tries to show Mizu how to hold her arms in proper ballet port de bras and Mizu scoffs and says I'm not a pussy, which earns her a badly unimpressed look, but Mizu is smiling, and Isabelle is thinking you never smile I've only ever seen you laugh with me. Taking a shower together in half light and letting her scrub her back, letting her trace the burn scars over it, they run all the way from her nape to her waist and Isabelle kisses them softly. They sit together on their porch afterwards and Mizu plaits her hair. It takes her ten minutes for a braid but when she's done, it's perfect.

she calls her now, and she's halfway across the world or feels like it. She's missed her. She does not know how to say it other than, turn on your camera pretty girl, let me see your face. Suddenly she's fucking gone. She lives eternities in that smile. For a moment nothing else matters but this, and her, the two of them together. Not anger and death and fury and revenge.

when Mizu looks up, the stars are brighter. how carefully she's woven light into the dead corpsed-out, numb, empty spaces inside of her... when she moves, she feels some part of her soul reflected back onto Isabelle.

Love is not a net, or a knife held to their throat, glinting. It's a blanket.

[babel-and-buttons]

To the man rollerskating down the Santa Monica Promenade with 1 Thing by Amerie blasting on your boombox, I know you won't read this but:

You are winning at life

You are responsible for Spotify giving us an "Oops, All Bangers" mix, and you've made these tourists' LA traffic experience infinitely more bearable. Thank you. I love you