#but then I’ll see other photos and think maybe it’s all silver

[jack-crow-lantern]

I’ve got this long coat and I want to turn it black parade-esque

BUT I CANT TELL WHAT COLOR THE DETAILING IS ON THEIR JACKETS OR THE MATERIAL

Like I know that each jacket differs in detail from band member to band member but I’m talking about the material itself of the detailing. It seems it differs from jacket to jacket.

Like based on photos, Ray’s detailing is silver and uses this sort of rope with designs in the buttons

but Gerard’s detailing is almost bronze (???maybe bronze) and looks like it was made with ribbon and blank buttons.

along with Frank’s whose also looks like ribbon

then Mikey’s coat has this rope detailing as well??

[keikikait]

hiii can i request rafe or jj reacting to the reader getting nipple piercings??

ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ (ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

read my other jj fic here!

pairing: jj maybank x pouge!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 2.9k 

summary: you get nipple piercings and your boyfriend is eager to get his hands on them

warnings: SMUT 18+, smut under the cut, nipple piercings, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, dom!jj & sub!reader, mention of p in v (although no protection is mentioned, it is implied), i've never gotten nipple piercings but i tried to be as accurate as possible, although i do know that touching them or kissing them after is a big no-go, this is a fanfiction lol.

a note: the skin colour in the photo isn't correlated with the reader's skin colour. i just like the picture! and, also, a BIG THANK YOU for 500 followers! i know in the grand scheme of things, 500 isn't a lot, but i never thought i would get this far! thank you all, i love you all so much!!!!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You pull away breathless, lifting your arms as JJ pulls your top off before tossing it aside. He pulls you into his lap, kissing down your neck as he unclips your bra, the black fabric joining the tank top discarded on the floor. JJ kisses down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones as he slowly kisses down your sternum. You squirm in his lap, his hands roaming over your curves as you feel his cock pressing against you through his shorts. 

“Mmm, you're so soft,” JJ murmurs, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. His other hand cups one of your breasts, thumb teasing over the nipple. “You know what would really suit you, baby?” He brings his thumb and pointer finger together and squeezes, tugging at your nipple harshly.

You gasp, your back arching, your chest pressing against his. You whine as he pinches and squeezes again. “What, Jay?”

“Little piercings here,” He pinches your left nipple. “And here,” He pinches your right nipple, grinning at the way you squirm and wiggle. He leans in close, hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “Fuck, it’s making me hard just thinking about it. Two little bars, just begging to be played with,” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, tracing over the sensitive skin of your lower belly. “I bet you'd look fucking stunning if they were gold. Or maybe silver. Fuck.”

“You know,” You breathe heavily as he tugs and twists your nipples again. “I’ve been thinking about getting some.”

“Oh yeah?” JJ chuckles, giving your nipples another sharp pinch before releasing them. His fingers continue their path south, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your panties to stroke over your slick folds. “I'm more than happy to help you pick out the perfect bar.” He rubs his thumb over your clit in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to make you shudder. “Because I gotta say, imagining your cute little nipples adorned with sparkly jewellery while I eat this sweet pussy... fuck, that's even hotter.”

“I’ll get them then,” You pant out in between moans. “Just for you, baby.”

JJ groans low in his throat, hips bucking up as he grinds his cock against you. “For me? Oh, pretty girl, you have no idea how much that turns me on,” He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes your legs tremble, your back arching as a strangled whine escapes your lips. “But don't forget, these pretty tits are all mine too,” His free hand reaches up to pinch and squeeze your nipples. “I want to see those piercings, feel them against my tongue when I suck on your nipples,” He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you faster now, thumb still circling your clit. “Gonna make you cum so hard on my fingers, pretty girl. Then I'm gonna bend you over and fill this tight little cunt with my cock.”

You squeal as he picks you up and flips you over, pinning you underneath his weight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You kept your promise to JJ.

After researching and asking around Kildare, you found your piercing studio; Prickink just across the thoroughfare on the mainland. $175 for both the piercings and the jewellery. You would get simple silver bars for now, but they had the cutest pink heart nipple rings that you wanted for after they’re all healed. Only the best for JJ.

You push the door open, walking into Prickink, greeted by the buzz of tattoo guns and the smell of rubbing alcohol, 80s rock playing softly in the background. The receptionist smiles when she sees you approach the counter, holding your ID and a wad of cash. “Hi, welcome to Prickink! How can I help you?” She's decked out in tattoos, covering her arms and chest, with a cute nose ring with a bat charm on it and large gauged ears. “Piercing or tattoo?”

“Uh, piercing,” You say nervously. “I have an appointment today at 12:30 with Yvette.”

“Alright, lemme see here…” The receptionist types away on her computer. She confirms your name before taking your ID and checking it. “Nipple piercings?”

You nod. “Yeah. Kinda nervous, but it’ll be worth it.”

She hands you your ID back. “Nerves are normal, but everything will be alright. Yvette is one of the best in North Carolina,” She types on the computer before looking back at you. “Alright, it’ll be $175 including the jewellery. We can’t put in the heart rings until your piercings heal, but you’re welcome to take them home. Will it be cash or card?”

“Uhh, cash.” You say, pulling out $175. She takes the cash and recounts it, sliding a consent form over to you to fill out and sign. You check every necessary box and sign your name, handing it back to her.

“Alright. You can go and sit down, Yvette will come get ya when she’s ready.” She gestures over to the seating area where a few other people are waiting. Some have their phones out, some reading a magazine, and some were waiting as couples excited to get their matching tattoos.

You sit on one of the chairs, pulling out your phone and scrolling, trying to calm your nerves. It would hurt, yes, but everything would be okay. JJ would be more than happy to help you clean and take care of them. You wait for almost 10 minutes before Yvette rounds the corner, calling your name. You stand up and follow her through the hallway, shoving your shaky hands into the back pockets of your shorts. 

Yvette leads you through the tattoo shop, passing a few different rooms before arriving in the last one at the end, closing the door behind you. There’s a tattoo chair, a small stool, and a shelving unit built into the wall full of supplies. “Alright, take a seat. I’ll need you to remove your top and bra. You can set them on the stool right there.”

You take off your shirt and your bra, folding them and setting them aside on the stool before sitting down on the chair, leaning back against the seat. You clasp your hands in your lap.

She sits on the small stool at the end of the chair, putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. She grabs a thin black marker and holds it up to your chest, making a small dot at the centre of your left nipple, before marking the right as well. “Alright. Any questions before I get started?”

“How long is the healing process?” You ask. “I just… I have an eager boyfriend, ya know?”

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one plenty of times,” She puts the marker down. “Well, it’ll usually take about six to nine months for you to fully heal. It varies person to person, and a bit if it’s done right but a good guideline.”

You nod, leaning back in the chair. “Okay. Sounds good.”

She scoots forward slightly, the stool rolling smoothly on the wheels. “I’m going to start with the left one. Deep breaths, and try not to move too much.” You nod again as she wipes your nipple with an alcohol prep pad before pulling out a fresh needle, picking up the clamp with her free hand.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re feeling the cooling sensation of the pad, the next second you’re in unbearable pain. You keep still, gripping the armrests so tight your knuckles turn white. You let out a shaky breath as Yvette slides the bar in, twisting the ball bearing closed. “Alright, one down. You need a second?”

“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, your face growing hot. “Holy shit.”

She sets the needle down, giving you a pat on the knee. “Yeah, that’s the worst part. Nerves are in there and it’s super painful. Once I’ve got the second one in the painful part will be over, and you can just sit there and look cute.”

You laugh, even though you didn’t find it particularly funny. Yvette dabs up some of the blood as you shut your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Okay. I’m ready.”

You grip the armrest again and prepare for the second needle. This time it goes a lot smoother. One pinch of the clamp, a quick swipe of the prep pad, a slide of the needle and a twist of the bearing. “And, done,” She says. “How you feeling?”

“Good,” You say. “A little lightheaded. I got cookies in my bag though.”

Yvette smiles as she puts the clamps down. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one either. It’s perfectly normal. Let me just tape some gauze over them before you get dressed again. I would recommend leaving the bra off,” She gets up from the stool and heads to the storage cabinet, picking out two thin strips of gauze with some medical tape before returning to you. She places them over your nipples, then tapes down the edges. “Keep those on until tonight, then you can take them off to shower.”

You sigh. “Alright, cool. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. Now, make sure you don’t play with them while they’re still healing. You’re gonna want to,” She chuckles. “I would also avoid all swimming, even if it's in a pool. There are a lot of bacteria that you don’t want that getting into the piercing,” She hands you a business card from one of the shelves. “Call or come back if you have any questions about healing.”

“Sweet, thank you. Have a good day.” You say, pulling your shirt back over your head. You tuck your bra into your bag before heading out of the piercing studio. You pull out one of the cookies and munch on it while you head back to your car, a small smile on your lips.

JJ is going to love them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You push JJ down to sit on the edge of his bed, running your fingers through his hair. “I got something I wanna show you, baby.”

He smirks, putting his hands on your hips as he sits, fingers dipping under the waistband of your leggings. He leans closer, the smell of your shampoo filling his nostrils, your hair still damp from your shower. “Oh yeah? What is it, pretty girl?”

“Did you wash your hands like I asked?” You ask, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders.

He shrugs nonchalantly, not bothering to remove his hands from your hips despite your question. “Yeah, yeah, course I did. Don't worry about it,” He reaches up to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. “Now, show me what you've got for me.” You roll your eyes, moving your hands from his shoulders to grip the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your new piercings glitter in the lowlight of his room. 

JJ's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of your newly pierced nipples, his gaze fixated on the glinting metal, his cock hardening in his sweatpants. “Holy shit, pretty girl…” He trails a finger over the barbell piercing your left nipple, watching intently as it twitches with the movement. “Look at that. So fucking sexy,” He leans in, taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before switching to the other side to do the same. “Mmm, love the way it feels against my tongue, fuck you’re so fucking sexy,” He releases your nipple with a pop, looking up at you with a hungry grin. “Do you like having them played with?”

You let out such cute, soft little gasps as he rubs his thumbs over them. You nod, grabbing his biceps. “Yeah, Jay. I like it a lot.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb around them slowly. “Good, baby, I’m glad. You look so fucking sexy, baby. Like a goddess,” He wraps his arms around your waist and spins around, throwing you onto the bed and climbing on top of you, pinning your hips down with his own. “When they’re all healed up, you should get those rings that have the connecting chain. Wanna tug on it and hear your sweet little whimpers.”

You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Only if you promise to play with them often,” You reach down, rubbing your fingers over his hard cock, feeling it strain against his shorts. “Got ‘em just for you, my love.”

JJ groans, hips thrusting into your touch as he grinds his hardness against your palm. “Fuck, you're killing me, baby. I'll play with them every damn day if you want,” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim yours. Breaking away, he pants, “Need you naked, now. Remember what I said last week? I wanna eat you out and watch how you look when you cum with your nipples all pierced.” 

With swift movements, he tugs your leggings down, sending them flying across the room. He yanks down your soaked panties, pocketing them for later. “Christ, you're dripping wet already,” JJ groans, spreading your thighs wide. He buries his face between your legs, lapping at your slit hungrily. “So fucking sweet…”

You squeal, back arching as your thighs clamp down on the sides of his face. Your hands immediately fly to his hair, gripping and tugging on the blond strands. “Fuck, JJ!” He moans loudly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core as he laps at your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the sensitive nub. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he devours your pussy. He pulls back slightly, blowing cool air over your wet heat before diving back in, tongue delving deep to taste your arousal. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, his favourite taste in the world. 

“Mmm, fuck, you taste amazing, baby,” His voice is mumbled as he sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before releasing with a pop. “Gonna make you cum so hard, pretty girl. Wanna hear you whine and cry for me.” He resumes his relentless assault on your clit, fingers digging into your thighs as he eats you out like a man starved, one hand going up to tweak your right nipple.

Your jaw goes slack, and you throw your head back, thighs trembling against the sides of his face. “Fuck, JJ, please!”

JJ looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, saliva dripping down his chin as he continues to feast on your pussy. His eyes are drawn to the silver studs on your cute little nipples, and his cock throbs as he slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in time with his licks and sucks on your clit. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you need,” He murmurs against you, the words vibrating against your clit and making you shiver. His free hand moves to your left breast, rolling and pinching the nipple roughly. “Wanna hear you scream my name when you cum, wanna feel your little pussy gush, but you gotta ask for permission, baby.” He redoubles his efforts, sucking harder on your clit as he curls his fingers to hit that magic spot inside you. Your body starts to quake, toes curling, as your orgasm builds.

You gasp, trying to find your voice. “Fuck, please JJ, please let me cum! I’ve been good! Please!” You tug on his hair, back arching off of the bed.

JJ smirks against your pussy, blowing more air directly onto your clit. “Alright, alright, baby. You can cum, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue as he pumps his fingers fast and deep inside you. At the same moment, his hand moves back up to your right nipple, rolling the stud between his fingers and tugging.

The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as your inner walls clench tightly around his fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you. JJ moans in satisfaction, continuing to lap at your spasming pussy, drinking in every drop of your release. Only when your tremors subside does he finally pull away, licking his lips clean of your juices. He gazes up at you, eyes shining with pride and desire. “That's my good girl. Fuck.”

You let out a strangled whimper as he kneels, pulling his shorts down before climbing over you. He pulls his hard cock out, fingers brushing over the tip to gather some pre-cum, spreading it out over his length as he jerks himself off. JJ grips his shaft firmly, stroking it in long, even motions as he hovers above you, his heavy balls slapping against your thigh with each pump. Pre-cum beads at the tip, leaking steadily as he gets closer to the edge.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, abs clenched tight. “You're so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin, the glint of metal on your nipples, the messy hair around your face. “Can't wait to bury myself deep in this perfect cunt and fill it up. Fuck.” He leans over you, lining himself up before starting to push in, giving you time to adjust to his size. He pauses for a moment, savouring the feel of your hot, slick walls wrapped around him, before starting to move, one hand going to tug on your new piercings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

let me know if you want me to do this prompt with rafe!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Run, Rabbit, Run

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @fuckyeahphelpstwins-blog

Request: “Fred Weasley with Playboy reader”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn't know whether to go down the ‘reader is a playboy model’ route, or the ‘reader dresses as a playboy bunny’ route. So I just thought “I’ll start writing and see where it takes me”. For one of my earlier twin shorts, I added ‘Bunny’ as a nickname given by George, but I think it's time for Fred to steal it.

T/W: Unprotected sex, Bathroom sex, Mirror sex

Being a businessman had its perks. After paying Harry back for the loan on the shop, the twins felt as if they were rolling in money. For the first few months, all they did was travel and enjoy the perks of having their first taste of freedom and a paycheck. They travelled across the south of England, showing their wares and merchandise to both the young and old, the rich and poor. They were even invited to have lunch with some of the big name toy companies to discuss branching out.

They didn't pay attention to the posters aligning the clubs walls, thinking it to be regular tat about prices and menus. But if they had, they would have seen the promotion of a ‘playboy party’. Maybe then they wouldn't have been so shocked to see various beautiful women strutting around the venue in skimpy leotards and bunny ears. They seemed to have taken the place of the wait staff, some were even flirting with the business men who drooled over their youth and beauty. The businessmen fawned over these young women like they were the first flowers of spring.

The hostess (also adorned with bunny features) led the twins to their booth where a gentleman sat in a crisp suit, a whiskey glass resting in his hands. The twins had had plenty of business meetings before, but this one felt contradictory. It was professional, yet the giggling bunnies that surrounded them felt almost like having a meeting in the middle of a themed strip club night. Maybe Fred would have kept his thought track on the business straight and narrow if you hadn't wandered over to his table.

That tight little black leotard and that irresistible pom pom of a tail just drove him wild. You even reminded him of a bunny. Innocent, tender. The picture of naivety that just called to him. Sure, you weren't dressed so innocently, but he could tell by that little glimmer in your eye that you didn't walk as big a walk as your heels suggested. Fred could hear your heels before he even laid eyes on you, and he fell hard.

You had always dreamed of being a model, to see your photo in the latest magazine or even on a big billboard. Some told you to dream on while others decided to open the door for you. Sure, prancing around in a bunny costume wasn't exactly modelling, but these were the type of people that could hand you your dream on a silver platter. And besides, flaunting never hurt anyone.

The ginger pair that came through the doors of the club didn't exactly look well to do. Their dull orange suits stood out in a sea of black pinstripes and navy linen. They didn’t scream money, but your legs carried you to their table before you could even stop them. You leaned down, your elbows on the table.

“See anything on the menu you like, gentlemen?”

While George and the potential investor gave their orders, Freds eyes stayed glued to you. Your eyes, your face, your curves, your legs. Anything that wasn't hidden was a feast for his eyes. He didn't need a menu to know what he wanted, but taking his order home with him would take some persuading. Fred’s eyes looked back up at yours only to find them looking right at him, an expectant look at your face. He kept his cool, a sly grin on his face.

“Well rabbits not on the menu, but i'm sure a pretty bunny like yourself wouldn't mind making an exception if I fancied a little taste”

Although you were used to comments like these, they made you blush every time. You let out your usual giggle and brushed your hand against his arm.

“Oh stop it or you’ll make this bunny blush”

Fred knew how cliche this was. He was no better than a hound dog. But instead of barking at this bunny, the bunny was driving him barking mad. He watched you saunter off, that fluffy little tail on your leotard capturing his attention. When the round of drinks came out a moment later, he couldn't believe his eyes when he lifted his glass only to find a note tucked into the fold of the napkin.

‘Meet me by the bathrooms X’

Now that was an offer he couldn’t turn down. Fred excused himself and left George to discuss business. The sight of you leaning against the wall beside the women's bathroom made his smirk widen. He pushed the door to the women's room open and gestured inside, following you in after.

Luckily for the both of you, the door had a lock. Meaning that no tiny bathroom stall was needed. As soon as that lock clicked, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the sink counter. No words were needed as your lips found his. Red lipstick smeared and transferred, painting his own lips. Your hands snaked around his neck to pull his face closer. You wanted to see just how many lipstick kisses you could leave on his skin.

Fred pulled back and lifted you from the counter to turn you around and bend you over, your face inches from the mirror. Your hair was slightly messed up but your lipstick took the most of the carnage. Fred really couldn't help himself as his hands massaged their way up your thighs. That soft little bunny tail was just sitting there, he couldn't not tug on it.

The tight leotard fortunately wasn't too tight around your crotch, meaning that he could pull the gusset to the side and give himself access to the thing he craved most in this moment. Considering you had people fawning over you every day, he was honoured to find you wet for him. Fred’s fingers trailed through your folds, collecting your juices like a man finding water in the desert. He brought those fingers to his lips and sucked your sweet juices from them. This little bunny was sweeter than strawberries and cream.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his throbbing cock out before his hands returned to their natural place on your hips.

“Maybe if you beg nicely, little bunny, I’ll give you a nice big cock to hop on”

Fred may have been just as eager as you were, but he just knew you'd sound so pretty if you begged him to fuck you. He wanted to hear you say his name…which he had yet to tell you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot.

“Beg Freddie to fuck your little bunny cunt and I’ll let you cum before I go”

He could hear the soft whine that slipped from your lips, making him chuckle and press his lips behind your ear. He had to hold himself back from sliding deep inside of you. Good girls begged for what they wanted.

“Please fuck me, Freddie. Fuck my little bunny cunt until I soak my little cotton tail”

Fred’s eyes lit up when you did as he asked. How could he refuse such pretty begging? He lined his tip up with your eager entrance and thrust in with such force, you nearly kissed the mirror screwed to the wall before you. It was hard to stop the moan that was threatening to escape your throat, one that could alert any passing patrons to your unprofessional activity. There was most likely a queue already forming outside of the ladies room.

His cock pummelled your insides, making more of your juices coat his shaft. His grip on your hips was tight while his other hand tangled in your hair to pull your head up.

“Look at that pretty face. I bet you wouldn't let those other guys smudge your lipstick. You wouldn't bend over the counter for them, would you bunny?”

You looked at him in the reflection, trying to keep your eyes from closing in bliss. Every thrust of his hips made it hard to talk in anything other than whines and moans. His cock pulsed inside of your tight hole.

“No, just you, Freddie. No one else. Please, I need to cum”

Fred chuckled and gripped your hair tighter, using it to fuck himself deeper.

“Well, well, well, turns out my little bunny is actually a minx. You wanna cum on my cock, you’ve gotta be a good girl and look at me while you make a mess”

Your eyes stayed glued to his, watching every expression that crossed his face as he pummelled your insides. The way his brown eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open with every squeeze of your walls. His grip on your hip tightened before he came, his cum painting your insides as your own orgasm hit. The scent of sex permeated the air, the sound of your panting bounced off of the tiles.

Fred pulled his cock out of you before readjusting your gusset back into place. He was determined to keep a little piece of himself inside of you while other men undressed you with their eyes. He smirked at the sight of your face. Your mascara had started to run from just how good it felt. He stroked his hand along your hips, holding you up as you came down from your high. He tucked himself back into his trousers before pulling something out of his pocket and stuffing it into your bra.

With one last wink, he left you in the bathroom. You pulled the item out of your bra to find the napkin you gave him earlier. Flipping it over, you found something that made you grin.

A phone number, followed by ‘Call me, Little Bunny’

[unicyclehippo]

Bishova: alcohol

just a little shorty im writing instead of sleeping bc i don’t! like! storms! i don’t think I’ve quite got yelena’s vibe but it was fun to write. set in the same stories as the others

//

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:49) jpg. attachment

when her phone buzzed fourteen times in one minute, that was when yelena knew she had made a mistake.

‘kate bishop, you are pushing my patience,’ she said to no one and the empty safe house.

snatching up the phone, she considered crushing it—they could part ways like that, easy, and she would not ever have to think about clint barton or kate bishop again—but it was the only burner phone she had and kate bishop was not the only message she was waiting for. plus, she liked the dog.

the first eight messages were all photos of said dog. it had snowed since they arrived at the barton farm and lucky wore booties on his paws. from the photos of his bizarre walk and tail tucked between his legs, yelena guessed the pizza dog didn’t like them.

the other six messages were not photos and they were not short. yelena groaned at the first wall of text but she had four hours until extraction and nothing else to provide diversion.

‘you are the lucky one, kate bishop,’ yelena told her, which would have sounded menacing if the girl were here but, since she was not, was just kind of sad.

(21:50) hey sorry about sending a dozen photos, i didnt really think about it first because lucky was just so cute but you feel like the kind of person who would get irritated by that sort of thing so i’ll keep it to a totally normal & very chill number of messages from now on! promise!!!! anyway i just wanted to say merry christmas, i don’t know if you celebrate because you said an awful lot about american christmas like it wasn’t super familiar and idk if russian (?) christmas is different but either way, i hope you have a rly nice day

(21:50) this is kate

(21:50) bishop

(21:50) fyi

(21:50) in case you didnt realise or save my number

(21:50) ok im done now i promise good night

yelena had to laugh. she swiped her thumb up the tiny dim screen of the flip phone, pressed it to the many exclamation points.

kate bishop.

what a surprise she had been.

what a surprise she remained.

yelena was not surprised at herself, for being intrigued by the girl. she was not much younger but she was so different and it was the itch, wasn’t it? the need to scratch at the persistent question. what would she have been like if the red room had not been?

yelena did not think she would be much like kate bishop. even as a little girl, she did not talk as much, share as much. kate bishop walked through the world without any shields, all soft eyes and soft skin. it made yelena’s skin crawl to be around it, still not sure the softness would not infect.

and yet. she went back. she had her answer but she went back to her. with alcohol, for the proper drowning of sorrows.

yelena cut her eyes across the horizon. the hills were silver under the moonlight and she would be able to see any vehicles or bodies long before they reached the house. she was sat on the empty table in the centre of the living room; it was the only piece of furniture and from her place she had a sightline out in every direction.

she had not expected such a night they spent drinking together. when the fourth shot hit kate’s system, she was very chatty. yelena learned much that she asked and more that she had not.

kate bishop was hiding something.

she learned that very quickly, and enjoyed trying to pluck it from the girl. to no avail. if she had more time, maybe, but kate did not handle alcohol well.

she would not have handled the red room well.

it hurt to think it, which was foolish. yelena was not there and she would never go back. it was gone, the men who ran it were dead.

it hurt to think it because the red room still sat in her head, still was tangled in everything she was, still soaked her hands, her history, her name. when she walked, she thought of it. when she talked, she thought of it. when she sat beside this girl, listing from griefs weight on her shoulders and drunkenness, yelena thought first that killing her would take no effort at all. kate bishop had a long, pretty neck and she could put a blade, a piece of glass, against her carotid and—red. she had done it before. to girls less soft.

taking her money was easy and more practical.

leaving her number was…not.

and now this.

yelena tapped a button to light up the screen. it did not get good quality photos, this phone, but the pizza dog was funny anyway.

(21:54) i will dispose of this phone tomorrow.

(22:00) yelena! hi! okay?? because i sent too many messages or??

(22:00) you are funny, kate bishop. and you talk so much.

(22:01) i know. sorry

(22:01) i am glad you were never assassin. it would be a shame to kill you. return safely to nyc.

(22:02) thanks. you too

(22:03) or wherever you’re headed

(22:03) which is……..?

yelena huffed a laugh. a brick of a car shouldered over the hillside and rattled down the long long road toward the house. she dropped the burner to the floor and hopped down from the table, crushing it beneath her boot.

[siphoklansan]

based on the results of this poll…₊˚⊹ ᰔ

the long awaited (no one was waiting) dorm reveal is here! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

BASED ON THE POLL, I was really surprised that the majority of you guys voted Pomefiore. Like- I wasn’t really expecting any dorm to win, but Pomefiore is the least expected for me idk why😭

I planned to draw her in all the uniforms but alas, I am not god’s strongest soldier😔✌️ maybe in the future tho!

As to why I drew her in Diasomnia’s uniform, it’s actually the correct (kinda) answer to which dorm Sippy’s most suitable in! I’ve done a quiz twice on which dorm I’d be in twst, and the answer was always Diasomnia. It fits!

design notes ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Of course, I had to keep the bunny shoes- I just turned them into boots!

Sippy is wearing leggings in the Pomefiore uniform because I ran out of ideas</3 i had fun with the ruffles though I think it’s super cute!

I wanted Pomefiore Sippy to have a red skirt, but decided against it because the inner fabric of the robe(?) is already red :((

I had a lot of fun drawing Diasomnia Sippy! For some reason I changed the neck-tie into a brooch but i can’t remember why🤷‍♀️I guess I wanted her to look different from other members.

Every time I think about Diasomnia I think about the military/guards/knights/soldiers (like Sebek & Silver) so I wanted to make her design realistic those two (ex.the pants, adding combat boots, no braids) . BUT it looked boring. And I don’t want boring. Who gaf about realistic designs anyway /j but yeah her stockings are kinda like Lilia’s!

Yes, I know the salute looks wonky (I used my own hands for reference) </3 but I tried my best

on siphona and floydhok… ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Pick your poison ahh template but let’s ignore that💀

It’s a fun doodle, nothing more or less. But it’s the most popular (and the only ones) ship regarding to Sippy!

I drew it in one-go so if it looks wonky I apologize

I wanted to draw each ship it’s own interaction but I ran out of ideas :(( I’ll let you guys decide if you want to see it but I’m just gonna leave them here-

totally nothing suspicious with the last photo tho :^ have a good day!

[shieldofiron]

Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ���She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was  Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979. 

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,” 

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes: 

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it. 

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

[davinashifts333]

THE SECRET AFFAIR (Jason DiLaurentis x Liar!Reader): ⚫️summary; one year after Alison’s disappearance everything in Rosewood went haywire. Y/n, Aria’s maternal cousin & now 1/5 of the remaining Liars, who had either an equal amount or possibly even more secrets than her childhood friends, had been dating her now presumed dead best friend’s brother. That’s right, since before the summer of Alison’s disappearance Y/n & Jason had secretly been hooking up & began officially dating due to her helping him sober up & help him through his toughest nights that now gloomed over his past. She was his main alibi for the night everything happened with Alison but, obviously couldn’t tell anyone why she was with him. So why now, that they’re finally putting Alison to rest does it all go to shit? Because the whole town believes one of the liars did it. ⚠️warnings; swearing, age gap relationship (Y/n is the same age as the girls but one of the oldest, so 5-6 years younger than Jason), adult themes, murder, gore-ish?, PLL shit dude, it’s crazy, 18+ ONLY!

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Y/N’s POV (first day of Junior Year):

A banging on my door, or what I registered as banging woke me up as my alarm clock blared out loud.

“Y/n! Time to get up! You’ve got 20 before you and Aria have to go!” My aunt Ella announced as I sat up, groggy but somewhat at peace? It was weird ever since I saw Jason again, I felt like I could breathe again. Like everything was falling into place. I felt like myself.

“Getting ready now! Thanks Ella!” She never asked me to call her aunt, she hated the idea of forcing the title on me so, Ella it was. I put on a casual yet stylish outfit and headed to wash my face and do my morning hygiene. Bumping into Mike who just rolled his eyes half asleep.

I scoffed as I let his tween gestures roll off my back, he took it the hardest when I had to move in with them, he stated he already had one sister to hate, now he would be forced to have two? Aria and I met out by my old DeVille that I inherited from my mom, hopped in and drove to school. When we arrived I spotted a familiar car half a block away and Aria elbowed me.

“Go get him, i’ll wait for you inside.” She smirked as she slipped out of the car and was soon replaced by Jason sitting in her seat.

“Happy first day of Junior year, doll.”

He pulled a small box out of his jacket and handed it to me. Red, like the old streaks I used to have in my hair with a white bow wrapped around it. Inside was a silver locket, shaped like a heart with a rose on the front and our initials engraved on the back. I opened the heart to find a picture of us from the last time we saw each other.

“Jason! You didn’t have to do this! I love it, thank you.” I reached over the middle console and placed a small kiss to his cheek. He smiled as brightly as i’d ever seen and it brought a warmth to my heart.

“I missed that smile. Really, thank you for the gift.” He locked eyes with me while grabbing hold of the locket and gestured for me to turn, allowing him to place it on me. It was surreal, a year ago we had our entire lives uplifted because of Alison’s disappearance and Aria and I moved around the world. Now, it feels like everything was looking up. Until a sudden ding on my phone. I grab it quickly thinking it was Aria but was surprised to see a name I hadn’t since the summer before everything with Ali.

‘Isn’t Jason looking nice. Maybe this picture should be sent to everyone who would care. Maybe like the cops? -A’

The photo attached is he and I kissing the day I came back to Rosewood. My hand begins to shake and Jason takes notice. I lock my phone as he reaches for it and clear my throat.

“Just a text from my dad, haven’t heard from him in a while. Anyway, I have to get to class, Aria is waiting for me.” I smile and he kisses me tenderly.

“Alright, call me when you get out, maybe we can go for dinner or you can come over? Okay?” I nod and kiss him once more before we both exit the car. We never hid, only because of the age difference but recently this last week was perfect. We were more public but still a bit nervous of what everyone would think. I head into the school only for Aria to begin cheesing at me like crazy.

“Multiple kisses!?! The double exit from the car, the necklace!? God, you are so lucky!” She touches the necklace before linking our arms. She was always so supportive of Jason and I and I could not be more happy. Well, I could have.. Until the goddamn text.. How was I supposed to tell Aria? What if the others were getting them too? What if Jason was hurt? The day flew by fast and before I knew it, I was back in my car heading home with Aria blasting the radio. What am I going to do?

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A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY BUT AFTER ALL OF THE POSITIVE RESPONSES TO THE FIRST PART I HAVE DECIDED TO CONTINUE THE STORY!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! MORE TO COME!! 🩷

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

Hell yeah let's do it.

84 for 🌤️:

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“Uh, I’m sure they are…” Buck winces, unsure what decorations would be his, and in which bin they would be located. 

“Can you get them out?” Nico asks. Buck swears the kid’s eyes grow in size to better resemble a puppy. 

“Let’s look for them,” Buck agrees. He starts taking the lids off of bins and rummaging around. 

It soon becomes clear what he’s looking for. A collection of Christmas crafts and ornaments, just like the tree pinned to the fridge. Most of them are things an adult clearly did, with toddler marker scribbles on them. But then there are other things. Precious things. A photo frame ornament with a photo of Nico as a baby and Baby’s First Christmas in silver lettering. A holiday card with a picture of Nico and Chris. Nico is maybe two or three. Photos with Santa. 

Nico tucks himself up under Buck’s arm as Buck is sifting through all these preserved memories. He snuggles into him with utter familiarity and trust. Of course he does. Buck is his father. And Buck would hope he’s not been a shitty one. Of course he trusts him. Buck is rigid for a moment, uncertain what to do with this affection. 

“I like this one,” Nico says, pointing to the photo of himself and Chris. 

Buck smiles softly. “Yeah, so do I. Chris must be… I mean, Chris is a really good brother, right?”

“Mhm,” Nico nods. “The best ever.” 

Buck’s throat feels tight. 

“That’s amazing,” Buck says. “You know… I’m a little brother, too.”

“I know! Auntie Maddie!”

Of course he knows that. Auntie Maddie. He likes the sound of that. 

“Right, Auntie Maddie,” Buck replies. “Anyway, just… You’re really lucky you know? Having an amazing big brother or sister is the best thing in the world.”

“Yeah!” Nico agrees. 

“And Chris is lucky, too,” Buck says. “Because you… You’re a pretty special kid.”

Nico beams at him. Buck’s heart melts. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he knows he’s right. Nico is special. The most special… He… He’s Buck’s. If only Buck actually knew him. 

🌤️

Christopher lives on the first floor of what is clearly a building full of student apartments. Eddie parks and walks to the door, trying to keep himself from trembling. This is insane. This is all so insane. His son is twenty. His teenager is an adult. And he’s in Los Angeles again. A twenty minute drive away. Near his college campus. Talking to Eddie regularly. Eddie doesn’t know what to expect.

When he knocks, Chris answers within thirty seconds. 

“Hey, Dad!” He greets Eddie warmly.

Eddie just about passes out. 

He’s taller. Eddie’s height. He’s… He’s a grown up. He’s a young man. He looks healthy and happy and… And perfect. He’s perfect. 

Eddie’s hand flies to his mouth, in utter shock. His eyes are burning, and before he can hold himself back, he’s fucking crying. 

“Dad?” Christopher inquires, alarmed. 

---

45 for ⚡:

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“I think I should go now, Eddie. I need some time to process this.” 

Well, that’s fine. He doesn’t want to see her until Thanksgiving at the earliest, anyway. 

“Okay. Goodbye,” Eddie says. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“That would be good,” she says stiffly. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” he replies, teeth gritted. 

She hangs up. Eddie takes a few moments to breathe, until he feels lighter. Until he knows he can move forward, without the weight of their dynamic impacting his relationship with yet another child. It feels like one of the first things he’s done to protect his daughter, beyond choosing to adopt her. It also feels like something he’s done to protect himself. And that feels good. 

When he’s ready, Eddie finds Buck and Chris in the living room, bickering playfully over a video game. He plunks himself down between them, sighing, and leans his head onto Buck’s shoulder. He’s almost certain this ruins Buck’s game, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. Neither does Buck, apparently. As Chris whoops in victory, Buck turns to kiss Eddie’s forehead. 

“All good?” He asks. 

Eddie nods. “Things are going to be different, uh… With you know…”

Buck kisses him again. “Proud of you.”

“Dad, you’re kind of ruining the game,” Chris chastizes. 

“Really?” Eddie asks. “Because I’m pretty sure I just secured your win.”

“That is true,” Chris admits.

“Oh? Teaming up on me? Unbelievable!” Buck complains. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says. “The baby can be on your team.”

Chris laughs. “What good will that do?”

“You guys are laughing, but I am going to train her up so good,” Buck scowls at them. “She’ll be my ultimate weapon.”

“Okay, sure, Buck,” Chris teases.

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39 for 🔼:

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Eddie coughs. “Okay, uh… Well, listen. We’re both learning right?”

Buck nods. “Right.”

“I don’t expect expertise,” Eddie says. “I hope you don’t, either?”

“No!” Buck insists. “No! I don’t. I promise I don’t. Sorry, I just… I want things to be good for you.”

“I think it will be,” Eddie says. “Because it’s you. And if not… Then, whatever. We’ll figure it out.”

Buck exhales, relieved. More relieved than he had expected. He didn’t even know he needed that assurance, really. The thing is, there’s a significant part of him that can’t really get past the notion that sex is what he brings to the table. For a long time, he knew it was all he brought to the table. Abby had sort of changed that. Until she hadn’t. And then… Even though he knows Ali really liked him for sincere reasons, there’s a small voice in his head that always reminds him she left when he wasn’t able to perform for a while. He knows her reasoning. Knows it wasn’t that. But they were pretty active? What if that was part of it? 

“You’re uh… You’re sure?” Buck asks Eddie. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Eddie replies. “It actually sort of makes me feel better that… That I’m not the only clueless one.”

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36 for🧟:

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“Mmm, and you won’t,” Athena says. “But you know what that tells me?”

“What?” Matthew asks.

“You cannot afford to keep fucking with us,” Athena says. There’s something completely certain about her words. Even though Buck knows they’re all afraid of exactly the opposite of what she’s said.

Matthew glares at her. 

“So, what’ll it be, Matt?” Athena asks. “Do I kill you now, and let your pals attempt to avenge you? Or do I send you home with that as the message? Up to you.”

As Taylor had anticipated, Matthew makes the right choice. 

Buck, and the rest of them, will just have to trust that these ass hats are smart enough to take a hint. And if not? Well, he thinks they’re sort of a force to be reckoned with. 

September 11th, 2018

The twenty-four hours following Matthew Sparks’ bloodied, frightened departure from Sunport are sort of marked by chaos. At least for Buck. Maybe nobody else sees it that way. 

There’s a lot of talking. Big discussions. About the future, the present… All the threats that potentially face them. The women from L.A. discuss an alliance. Two entities, settlements, looking out for each other. For innocent people who might need their help. Hen is so into the idea, it sort of makes it hard for anyone else to have a differing opinion. They talk about setting up a code for radio communication. 

“You’re welcome,” Buck mumbles at that discussion. Earning him an eye roll from Bobby. Albeit, a fond one. They’ve promised to have a conversation when things settle down a bit. Hopefully to ease some of the tension from when Buck left. So much has happened, he forgets even arguing, to be honest. 

---

You get the first words of chapter 2! 99 for ⚖️:

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When Buck wakes from whatever vision Nemesis sent him, all his exhaustion has vanished. Instead, he feels a sort of bone deep pull. An instinct. Deeply rooted and starving for fulfillment. 

He despises it. 

He knows now what Nemesis wants. Correction. What she expects. He also knows what he has to lose by ignoring her. Everything. Something happening to Eddie or Bobby or anyone else he cares about? That would destroy him. So he has to do it. His new… Purpose. 

Nemesis said he would hunger for it, eventually. He just didn’t think that would be immediate. But maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not the hunger for the job. Maybe it’s the fear of failure. He needs to get this done, to protect the people he loves. That’s all there is to it. 

There’s an easy route and a hard route. One will be quick. One will solve a bigger problem. Buck, feeling angry and full of trepidation, chooses the latter. He grabs a piece of mail, exits his apartment, walks down the hall, and knocks on Lawrence’s door. 

Lawrence answers after a few moments. His red aura is as strong and disconcerting as ever. Buck feels the familiar but excruciating tightening around his tattoo. Luckily, he’s hidden it under a sweater. 

“Oh,” Lawrence says, by way of greeting. “It’s you.” 

Yeah, okay. Buck might not regret this one. 

“Hi,” Buck forces a smile to his face. “I got this mail sent to my apartment, and I was wondering if it’s meant for you. Must’ve been a mistake.”

Buck lifts the flier. He hadn’t even glanced at it before grabbing it, so singular focused as he’d felt. 

Lawrence glances at it. 

“Dude, that’s a Hello Fresh coupon. They send those to everyone.”

Buck glances at it. 

Fuck. He could have chosen better. 

“Oh, really?” Buck asks. “You sure? You want to take a closer look at it? Make sure it’s not like a customer loyalty thing?”

“I’m not a customer,” Lawrence said. 

“Just check!” Buck insists. 

Lawrence huffs, irritated, then reaches forward to grab the fier from Buck. As he snatches it, Buck tilts his hand just enough so that their knuckles brush. Not a prolonged touch, but enough to be effective. The same thing as with the guy at the call happens. Buck is sent from his body to a mosaic of memories. Horrible and damning. He sees all the little pieces that have led to what Lawrence deserves. 

Buck sees it all. He sees three separate girlfriends; all stalked, to increasing degrees of severity. A restraining order. Online threats. Posting nude photos without consent - revenge porn. He sees threats of violence. He sees horrendous insults hurled at a woman who turned him down for a date.

He sees a predator.

All this time, living next to Buck. It’s horrifying. Nauseating. It makes Buck wonder who else he has coexisted with, never fucking knowing. 

But seeing Lawrence’s past and present is only one part of it. Only half the job. Nemesis had explained it. If he freaks out with revulsion at the past, if he can’t stand to see it, he won’t be able to determine which string of future possibilities plays out. And that, after all, is his main job now. 

So he holds fast. He watches it all. Swallows his disgust. 

And then, like a corkboard full of strings, when the memories come to an end - what feels like hours, but isn’t even a second, later - he sees them. His options. He doesn’t get to manufacture them. They aren’t his design. He simply gets to see what could be and pick which one Lawrence deserves. 

A future where he keeps getting away with it. Where no one ever catches him.

A future where he snaps. Kills. Goes to jail for life. 

A future where he’s caught in the act, arrested. Spends a long time in jail. The rest of his life on parole. 

A future where he’s caught in the act, arrested, but is killed in a car accident before his trial. 

Buck feels overwhelmed. It’s a lot of responsibility. Too much. It’s not a fucking gift. It’s a burden. 

How do I do this? Buck thinks, voiceless and formless. 

Just choose. He hears Nemesis like a fucking parasite in his mind. Choose and it will be so. 

Fuck. He hates this. Fine. 

Not the future where he gets away with it. Not the future where a woman is murdered. But… But Buck doesn’t want to be responsible for his death, either.

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 8

Hello! We get an actual resolution with no cliffhangers, but a lot of backstory revealed. Also, Harri gets his temper and stubbornness from all his parents (his two dads AND the surrogate ;)). Really, the poor boy never had a chance.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4  Pt 5 Pt 6  Pt 7 

***

Eddie and Harri looked at each other in shock.

“Dad!” Harri hissed.

Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “She didn’t even give me a chance to respond!”

Harri huffed. “I guess. But I swear to god, if you Yoko this shit up, I’ll post the baby pictures of you Grandpa Wayne kept on your Insta.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. “It’s not my fault, okay!”

“Yeah?” Harri asked. “Uncles Jeff and Gareth gonna agree to that? Because now that I know who they were talking about, they’ve been telling you to let it go since before Papa died.”

Eddie frowned. “There’s more history there then you know.”

“So tell me!” Harri yelled, getting to his feet. “What is so fucking bad you can’t talk about it? Not to me, not to Uncle Jeff, and certainly not to Papa. So what aren’t you tell me?”

Eddie glared at his son. “I can’t tell you.”

“Not this fucking NDA shit again!” Harri growled getting in Eddie’s face. “Just own up that nothing happened.”

Eddie lifted up his shirt. “Does that fucking look like nothing happened? Huh? Does it? Because this is end of the list of shit I can’t talk about. There is so much I know. So much that I still have fucking nightmares about it. And when I told Steve that I was in love with him, he told me I couldn’t be. That it was the trauma of what we’ve been through!”

“Twenty years ago!” Harri snapped back. “Don’t you think he might have changed his mind? God damn, Dad! He still has your ring!”

Eddie took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harri glared at him. “The hell you don’t.” He marched into the studio, Eddie fast on his heels.

“I don’t know what the hell you think this will prove,” Eddie growled.

Harri pulled two pictures off the wall. One featuring Corroded Coffin on a torn up sofa in Grandpa Wayne’s old house and the other all them around the table signing their contract. In both photos you could clearly see Eddie’s right hand. In the first picture there was a silver and grey gem stone ring and it was gone in the second.

“I always wondered about that conversation you had with Grandpa Wayne about that ring,” Harri said. “It was right after Papa’s funeral and I asked you what happened to it. I said it was really pretty. You told me that you lost it. Do you remember what Grandpa Wayne said? Because I do.”

Eddie glared at his son, lips pursed.

“He said that it was bullshit and that you knew exactly where it was,” Harri continued. “And that all you had to do was go get it back if you wanted to.”

He turned the pictures around so Eddie could see them. “You gave Mr Harrington that ring. Why, that I don’t know. But I do know I saw it two days ago on Mr Harrington’s right ring finger. And you can lie to me again about it or you can tell the truth so we can fix this. Whatever it was between you. Because Uncle Jeff liked the dude so much they remained friends for years. And we both know he hates people.”

Eddie sighed, taking the picture of the one on Wayne’s couch. “I told him that maybe if he didn’t feel that way about me then, that might change. And I gave him the ring as a promise. He could give it back to me only if he returned my feelings.”

He ran his fingers over the image of Brian and sighed. He then touched the part of the picture that showed the ring. “He never returned it, so I thought he’d thrown it away, sold it, pawned it off. Whatever. I don’t know how I feel about him keeping it.”

Harri nodded. On the one hand, Steve kept the ring, meaning it was important to him, but on the other, it meant he hadn’t returned Eddie’s feelings. “At least you know you’re still important to him, Dad. And maybe that’s all that really matters.”

Eddie nodded. “Call your friend. Tell her I’ll do it. I’ll befriend that bastard.” He looked at Harri a moment. “Maybe don’t say it exactly like that.”

Harri laughed and shook his head. ��Yeah, yeah. I’m not that stupid. After all I got my smarts from Papa.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested.

*

By the time Edie got home, she was wrung out, physically and emotionally. She was glad that Harri called. Of course she was. But the whole thing was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

All she wanted to do was flop on her bed and ignore everyone until dinner. But it was not be. Standing in her living room, softly chatting with Aunt Robin was Vivian Knightly, super model extraordinaire.

Viv was tall and statuesque, with legs that went on for miles. She had dark skin and full, red lips. Her long, black hair was braided into hundreds of small braids, decorated with colorful beads. She wore a bright yellow sundress with a white belt.

In short, she made everyone else in the room dowdy by comparison.

She turned when she heard the door. “Hello! You must be Edie! It’s nice to meet you in the flesh, at long last.” She stuck out her hand so gracefully that it made Edie want to snort. How this elegant woman got with her absolutely uncoordinated giraffe of an aunt, she never could figure out.

Edie took her hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“You’re home later than usual,” Robin said. “Everything all right?”

Edie nodded. “Just had drop off the music we’re practicing over at our guitarist’s house.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “And this wouldn’t be your new guitarist would it?”

Edie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Aunt Robin. Harri Munson is a good friend, a good guitarist, and good artist. Anything else you’d want to know? Blood type, height, weight, dating status? For the record he’s single. And no, I don’t know his sexuality any more than he knows mine. We’re not that close yet.”

Robin grimaced.

Viv stepped into the breech. “I bet he’s cute though. You got a picture of him I can see?”

Edie raised her eyebrow. “I’m a lesbian.”

Viv laughed. “Me too!”

Edie rolled her eyes again, this time with more humor. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her pictures. She showed her the photo of Harri and Mandy with their arms around each other.

“He is cute,” Viv said. “In that awkward teenage way. I’ll bet he’ll grow into his dimples.”

Robin looked over her shoulder and then scoffed. “He looks just like his dad, and his dad so didn’t grow into them.”

Edie put her phone away. “Yeah, it’s a bit eerie how alike they look.”

Robin laughed. “Sure, little miss carbon copy of her dad.”

“I am not!” Edie protested, just as her dad walked in.

Viv looked back and forth between them. “Nope, sorry babe. I’m going to have to side with Robin on this one.”

Steve looked at all of them in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Dad,” Edie said with all the put upon nature of a teenager, “please tell these lovely ladies I am not a carbon copy of you.”

Steve blinked. “Honey, I love you and I can tell you’ve had a rough day at school...”

Edie’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms in the arm. “Not you, too!”

Steve grimaced. “Sorry. But it drove Addison nuts how much you look like me. Even as an infant.”

Edie’s lip twisted as she grumped.

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “Why don’t you go hang out in your room until dinner? De-stress a bit, okay?”

This is why Edie loved her dad. He could tell she wanted escape the social interaction and gave her an out. She kissed his cheek and with a promise to chat with Robin and Viv later, she went to go nap.

*

When she came back downstairs for dinner, Robin and Viv had gone out to dinner and it was just her and her dad.

“They’ll be back later,” Steve explained as he handed her a large plate of spaghetti. “I just wanted it to be us for dinner.”

Edie nodded and dug into her food with gusto. Steve was good cook and he knew his daughter’s comfort food.

“Rough day at school?” Steve asked, gently.

Edie sighed and stabbed at her plate. “A little. Things got a little awkward with Harri today.”

“Ah.”

Steve pushed his food around and Edie nudged him with her shoulder. “Come on, eat.”

He took a couple bites before he spoke again. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward with your friend.”

She bumped him again. “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

Steve scoffed. “No, no. It really is. I was an ass.”

“You were a teenager after a fucking earthquake,” Edie reminded him. “And he was asking you to uproot your life so soon after wasn’t fair either.”

Steve looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “And who told you that?”

“Harri,” Edie admitted with a wince. “Minus the barracks language his dad used to describe the incident.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Eddie always did have the most colorful language.”

“You really liked him, didn’t you?” Edie said jumping down from the barstool and grabbed both of their empty plates to put in the sink.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “I was just too stupid to realize it until after he went to LA.”

Edie began washing their dishes. “So why didn’t you follow him?”

Steve stood up and grabbed a wash cloth to wipe down the counter. “Because I learned that if I listened to loud noises I would lose all the hearing in my left ear. And that included plane rides and metal concerts.”

“Oh.”

Steve ran the wash cloth under the tap and laid it flat to dry. “Dustin set out to create earplugs that would allow me to do both and accidentally invented a better hearing aid.” He chuckled and shook his head. He leaned up against the counter and folded his arms.

“It took him another couple of years to make the earplugs,” he said softly.

“In time for Brian Martin’s funeral?” she asked, putting the dishes into the sink.

Steve nodded. “Too bad I didn’t get to use them then. But I’ve used them on every flight since.”

She hummed in agreement. “Is that why you married Addison? Because you couldn’t be with Mr Munson?”

Steve sighed. “I wanted him to be with someone who could go to his concerts, to cheer him on from backstage and that couldn’t be me.”

Edie dried off her hands. “Shouldn’t he have a say in that?”

He chuckled. “Probably. But remember, I was young and stupid.”

She hummed in agreement and he swatted at her playfully.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you,” Edie said quietly.

Steve straightened up and gave her a hug. “It’s okay. I got you out of the deal and I’d say that was worth it.”

Edie hugged him back tightly. “I know. I just want you to be happy, Dad.”

He kissed the top of her head fiercely. “I know, honey. I know.”

***

Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

Tag List:

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @thylatrek @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall

[mariacallous]

A few years ago I wrote about how, when planning my wedding, I’d signaled to the Pinterest app that I was interested in hairstyles and tablescapes, and I was suddenly flooded with suggestions for more of the same. Which was all well and fine until—whoops—I canceled the wedding and it seemed Pinterest pins would haunt me until the end of days. Pinterest wasn’t the only offender. All of social media wanted to recommend stuff that was no longer relevant, and the stench of this stale buffet of content lingered long after the non-event had ended.

So in this new era of artificial intelligence—when machines can perceive and understand the world, when a chatbot presents itself as uncannily human, when trillion-dollar tech companies use powerful AI systems to boost their ad revenue—surely those recommendation engines are getting smarter, too. Right?

Maybe not.

Recommendation engines are some of the earliest algorithms on the consumer web, and they use a variety of filtering techniques to try to surface the stuff you’ll most likely want to interact with—and in many cases, buy—online. When done well, they’re helpful. In the earliest days of photo sharing, like with Flickr, a simple algorithm made sure you saw the latest photos your friend had shared the next time you logged in. Now, advanced versions of those algorithms are aggressively deployed to keep you engaged and make their owners money.

More than three years after reporting on what Pinterest internally called its “miscarriage” problem, I’m sorry to say my Pinterest suggestions are still dismal. In a strange leap, Pinterest now has me pegged as a 60- to 70-year-old, silver fox of a woman who is seeking a stylish haircut. That and a sage green kitchen. Every day, like clockwork, I receive marketing emails from the social media company filled with photos suggesting I might enjoy cosplaying as a coastal grandmother.

I was seeking paint #inspo online at one point. But I’m long past the paint phase, which only underscores that some recommendation engines may be smart, but not temporal. They still don’t always know when the event has passed. Similarly, the suggestion that I might like to see “hairstyles for women over 60” is premature. (I’m a millennial.)

Pinterest has an explanation for these emails, which I’ll get to. But it’s important to note—so I’m not just singling out Pinterest, which over the past two years has instituted new leadership and put more resources into fine-tuning the product so people actually want to shop on it—that this happens on other platforms, too.

Take Threads, which is owned by Meta and collects much of the same user data that Facebook and Instagram do. Threads is by design a very different social app than Pinterest. It’s a scroll of mostly text updates, with an algorithmic “For You” tab and a “Following” tab. I actively open Threads every day; I don’t stumble into it, the way I do from Google Image Search to images on Pinterest. In my Following tab, Threads shows me updates from the journalists and techies I follow. In my For You tab, Threads thinks I’m in menopause.

Wait, what? Laboratorially, I’m not. But over the past several months Threads has led me to believe I might be. Just now, opening the mobile app, I’m seeing posts about perimenopause; women in their forties struggling to shrink their midsections, regulate their nervous systems, or medicate for late-onset ADHD; husbands hiring escorts; and Ali Wong’s latest standup bit about divorce. It’s a Real Housewives-meets-elder-millennial-ennui bizarro world, not entirely reflective of the accounts I choose to follow or my expressed interests.

Meta gave a boilerplate response when I asked how Threads weights its algorithm and determines what people want to see. Spokesperson Seine Kim said what I’m seeing is personalized to me based on a number of signals, “such as accounts and posts you have interacted with in the past on both Threads and Instagram. We also consider factors like how recently a post was made and how many interactions it has received.” (A better explanation might be that Threads has a rage-bait problem, as this intrepid reporter learned.)

What scares me most about this is not that Meta has a shitbucket of data on me (old news) or that the health hacks I’m being shown might be completely illegitimate. It’s that I might be lingering on these posts more than I realize, unconsciously shoveling more signals in and anxiously spiraling around my own identity in the process. For those of us who came of age on the internet some 20 to 30 years ago, the way these recommendation systems work now represents a fundamental shift to how we long thought of our lives online. We used to log on to tell people who we were, or who we wanted to be; now the machines tell us who we are, and sometimes, we might even believe them.

As for Pinterest, I granted the company access to my account so they could investigate why the app recommends ageist, AARP-grade content to me in its emails. It turns out I hadn’t actively logged in to the app in over a year, which means the data it has one me is, ironically, old. Back then I was researching paint, so the app thinks I’m still into that.

Then there’s the grandma hair: Not only had I searched on Pinterest for skincare products and hairstyles in the long-ago past, but Pinterest gives a lot of weight to data from other users who have searched for similar items. So perhaps those other, non-identifiable users are into these hairstyles. The company claims its perceived relevance for recommendations has improved over the past year.

Pinterest’s suggested solution for me? Use Pinterest more. Un-pin stuff I don’t like. Threads also suggested I can fine-tune my own feed by swiping left to hide a post or tapping a three-dot menu to indicate I’m not interested. It’s on me, young buck. In both cases, I’m supposed to tell the algorithms who I am.

I’m supposed to do the work. I’m supposed to swipe more. I’ll be so much better off if I do. And so will they.

[eustassslut]

You asked for yandere kid pirates headcannons? I’ll give you yandere kid pirates headcannons!

♥️Kid uses those collars/bracelets that are put on with a lock and you will never see the key as long as you live because he likes having something on you at all times that he can use to tug you around with using his devil fruit♥️Wire definitely likes to toy with you by coming up behind you and holding a knife to your throat or a gun to your head because even though you both know he’s skilled enough with weapons to not cause any accidental harm he still likes the way you can’t help but shake with fear as to how far he’s planning on going with it♥️Heat seems like someone who would pull a trick such as letting you stay with him when the others are scaring you, but what are you going to give him in exchange for being so kind? He thinks maybe he’d be inclined to let you stay a bit longer in exchange for perhaps just a kiss? Or would you rather him throw you back out to the wolves?♥️You mentioned Killer being one of the people who controls what you wear, and he would probably enjoy dressing you up and style you like his own little doll just so he can order you to sit still while he takes plenty of photos to use as both a shaming tactic as well as new material for his spank bank (though he’d never admit that part out loud)♥️lastly I could see at least one of you getting their Jolly Roger tattooed on you either on an intimate place like a tramp stamp or right above the pubic bone or somewhere that every one can see like the side of the neck or upper back depending on who ultimately makes the best case for their preferred placement♥️

anon, these are delicious headcanons.

TW: drugging, forced dolification, harrassment, knife/trident usage to cause harm and blood

when you're first brought onto the ship, Kid forces you to wear thick metal handcuffs that can only be unlocked with his devil fruit or if you cut your hands off (which he doubts you would do just to get away from them). but as you're around longer and he grows more attached, Kid starts up a collection of handmade necklaces and bracelets for you. the collar you mentioned anon would be silver and has various small red stones, like rubies, intwined within them. if it wasn't a reminder of his cruelty and being trapped on this ship, it would be quite romantic. thus, the collar has to remain on you at all times unless you need to shower (in which case he's there just watching) and the only time he brings out the key is when you're unconscious.

Wire is cruel, arguably more cruel than Kid himself when it comes to his punishments and fantasies. he delights in nothing more than watching the pure terror in your eyes and the way your knees shake as he tortures you. he'll go to drastic measures to get his desired reactions and nothing works better than the panicked pleas that are offered to him the second he holds his trident to your neck, just pricking the skin and trailing small lines of bloods down it. the creepy bastard will respond with just licking up the blood and laughing to himself when you legs give way underneath you and he has to catch you. Wire knows you hate it when he torments you with his weapon collection, but he doesn't really care.

it's easy to overlook the way Heat uses the situation you're trapped in to his advantage. after all, with the way you're so focused on keeping yourself safe around the others it natural that you would underestimate Heat. Heat who is always more kind to you than the others, Heat that tells Wire to knock it off when he's being so cruel to you in front of him, reminds Killer that you need to eat and brings you gifts of things he knows you'd like. it's only fair after all he does that you thank him by accepting his advances. it'll start small, with him asking for a small kiss on the lips but each time you hide out in his room he'll ask for more and more.

the first time Kid deemed you well behaved enough for your own room (fitted with a lock that only they had the keys to and a transponder snail camera in the corner), Killer had forced you over to the large wardrobe in the corner. full of a wide selection clothes that Killer had tailored to fit your measurements which he took whilst you were drugged out. the clothes are expensive either stolen or handmade, things you wouldn't have been able to afford before. but with this new wardrobe and your own space comes rules. one of these being that Killer gets to pick what you wear for the day. so everyday you have to sit pretty in the room and try on every single item handed to you whilst he helps because "you're too weak to do that yourself, give it to me". then you have to let Killer pose you so he can take lots and lots of photos. except, some of those outfits he has you try on are less than appropriate and he delights in the embarrassed, shy looks you give the camera, making a mental note to use those photos later as he gets off. but be careful, if you don't listen to him, those photos could end up anywhere and with anyone.

now for the tattoo of the Jolly Roger, i think it would be suggested by either Kid or Wire. they're the only two who would originally dream up some way to permanently mark you as theirs and give you a reminder of your new life. for Wire, it would be a way of torturing you with a permanent reminder. for Kid, it would because of his possessiveness and a need to mark you for others who may want to look at you to long. but since Wire and Kid would bring the idea to the table, Heat and Killer would take it upon themselves to choose the spot. they'd be torn between choosing your back or your hip, wanting the tattoo to be in a spot where they can choose if people see it or not. eventually they'd probably choose one of your hips and pick an area where it won't hurt as much or risk leaving permanent damage (Heat's request). i can see Wire originally wanting you to be awake for it, but Killer having absolutely none of that since he doesn't want to deal with you struggling and potentially ruining it. so you'd probably get drugged with Heat sitting beside you the entire time, holding your hand and reassuring you that you'll be fine.

[merakiui]

BRO I FEEL STARVED! I love Azul and the way you write him but you know what I love a lot more? THE WAY YOU WRITE IDIA!

I need- I need more thoughts for Idia aka.the ultimate discord mod™(affectionate)

—can I be the Eel anon?

Omg I’m happy to know you like the way I write Idia! He’s so filthy and shameless. orz I’ll share some very scattered ideas!

✧ Idia feels like the type to be a danganronpa mastermind (he would be a Tsumugi fan). He gives me Mikan vibes—someone who is shy and always anxious but becomes bolder when pushed to the edge. I think he’d subject everyone to a death game if it was an au in which that happened. It would be run and funded by STYX, but all anyone knows is that if they can survive a few days and escape death they’ll be rewarded in more ways than just monetarily. Maybe you’re the prize or maybe you’re forced to participate. Magic use is not allowed, but most of NRC’s students are little cheats so someone’s going to break that rule eventually.

✧ I remember how wild the Japanese side of the fandom went when book 6 was just beginning (when STYX had kidnapped the students) and I remember seeing so many theories and art about what he might do to study and torture them. Thinking about how clinically detached Idia might be if he’s studying you. Maybe you’re a creature born from Overblot, but you take on a human appearance and seem to genuinely think you’re human. Dangerous creatures like you have to be contained and properly observed, but for some reason you act just like a harmless human. Idia knows blot is dangerous, but he can’t help slowly falling for you the more time he spends on the other side of the glass.

✧ Idia but he and Azul swap personalities, so now you have a very confident, silver-tongued Idia and a very gloomy, sleep-deprived Azul who thinks everyone is a normie. >:)

✧ Idia who, when he finds out you’re a female, decides to kidnap you alongside the NRC students. But he keeps you in a separate enclosure and it’s not to study you. It’s to train you to be a perfect housewife for him, starting with chores and working the way up to pregnancy once you seem more willing. Idia definitely has a breeding kink, but it’s more that he just likes the concept of filling you up until you’re so cock-drunk and watching your body shape itself around pregnancy. The trio’s breeding kinks are more rooted in mer instincts because the goal is to have children with you, whereas Idia’s not really a big fan of that. But if it’s you he can try to do his best.

✧ Idia has a voice line about how he wouldn’t be able to live with another person, as having a roommate was terrible enough (very paraphrased from his ghost marriage home screen lines). So imagine being his roommate or housemate and he rarely leaves his room, only contributes monetarily (he probably pays for the entire apartment because he’s rich), and you never truly get to talk to or connect with him. But unbeknownst to you, Idia is watching you through the cameras he’s situated in your room and he’s been stealing things from you (undergarments, jewelry, makeup, a shirt, a sock, etc). He’s so creepy, but he becomes even creepier if you bring someone back to the apartment, whether a friend or a hook-up.

✧ thinking about fwb with Idia, but it’s online. So lots of phone sex, lots of exchanging of explicit images (imagine talking to this guy who calls you his kitten and has the smallest dick energy, but when he finally sends a photo back he’s massive. T-T), and even occasionally playing online games together. Idia becomes obsessed with you and quickly gets jealous if he knows you’re out actually living your life when you should be spending it talking to him at all hours of the day.

✧ something something apocalypse au and you take shelter with Idia, who becomes very obsessed with you and won’t let you leave because it’s so dangerous out in the real world.

✧ Idia who is researching a mer darling! He keeps you confined and finds that interacting with you is much easier than interacting with others. Maybe it’s because you don’t speak much of his language or it’s because you never seem to judge him critically. Either way, he loves his mer and wants to keep you forever.

[readingadream]

Chapter 4

3 | 4 | 5

1,773

Master

San POV

Since the day Wooyoung had joined us, things have felt more lively. We all seemed more relaxed now, which was nice. Hongjoong, though, definitely upset me when he basically forced Wooyoung to do something that he clearly wasn’t very comfortable with. I was surprised when Wooyoung finally agreed, but the other day when I offered to join, it seemed like he truly wanted that. So today, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, and I all went to take some more photos near an open field.

The goal was to show just how powerful he and I could be. Yeosang had done our makeup as well as picked out similar outfits to match. Wooyoung was wearing a nice gray blazer with no shirt underneath, nice black dress pants and a very simple makeup look, light pink eyeshadow, and a slightly dark lip tint. I had worn a loose-fitting black sweater, black jeans, basically a no makeup look, and a nice silver necklace.

Simple but effective outfits, honestly. Mingi gave us a whistle when we both walked over to him. Wooyoung was blushing and, of course, was trying to hide his face with the sleeves of the blazer. Cutie. There was no reason for Woo to be this nervous, honestly. I wished silently that he would feel confident in himself.

“Wooyoung is showing off today, I’m not sure I’ll be able to focus when he looks this hot.” Teasing Wooyoung was easy, plus seeing his ears turn red just made me laugh before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Awe, there is no need to be so shy. Woo, you look amazing.” Mingi was, of course, going to be the one to tease Wooyoung, knowing how nervous and stressed he’d been all day.

This boy was so fidgety when nervous, grabbing the camera I handed it over to Mingi. “Come on, the sun will start setting, and I think the golden hour is perfect timing to take these to display how good looking Woo and I are. Giving him a wink before having him stand next to me.

An hour went by way too fast, Mingi had taken dozens of photos and decided to do more as the sun set. Wooyoung relaxed quickly as Mingi and even Yeosang gave us intrusions on how we should pose, where to look, where our hands should be, and basically everything else. Believe it or not, these two together might be more bossy than Hongjoong and Seonghwa together. That thought alone is beyond terrifying.

“Sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get home, Woo. You did so well today. I'm proud of you.”I give Wooyoung a small reassuring smile. Once we were finally done and back in Mingi’s car, I noticed Wooyoung was dozing off. Reaching up, I helped guide him to rest his head on my shoulder.

Mingi glanced in the review mirror, raising his eyebrow at me when our eyes met. I gave him the finger before closing my eyes and letting myself rest. I didn’t expect today to be as long and tiring as it was, but one thing was for sure this was the most fun I think any of us had in a while. There were things Wooyoung didn’t know about yet, which made me feel guilty about it. Such as us knowing who Changbin was already, how we knew who’d hurt him that one night.

Wooyoung had no clue that Changbin was working with another group like us but ended up our enemy. I hated the thought of what the man's reaction might be once he finally found the truth, but yet a part of me wished we’d just tell him already so in the future maybe Wooyoung wouldn’t be as upset with us.

When we got back home, it was Mingi. He gently woke me up. He pointed to the sleeping beauty, who was still sound asleep with his head resting on my shoulder. I knew I couldn’t get myself to wake him up just yet, so I focused on the way his lips parted, how his cheeks puffed out just a little bit, and even the small nose scrunch when he adjusted his head ever so slightly. Wooyoung was truly stunning. He even made it hard to look away even.

After a few minutes, I finally decided to wake up Wooyoung, running my fingers through his hair before leaning down close to his ear. “Wooyoungie~ wakey wakey come on cute petal.” I could hear him grumble, saying something that I honestly couldn’t understand. “I will make us some ramen, hm? Come on, sleepy head.”

“Better add a few eggs, too.” He finally spoke to me. god, his sleepy voice was so damn adorable. Nodding my head, I moved slightly when he’d sat up, watching as he winced when moving his head to the side, trying to relax his stiff neck.

”I will add them, don't worry. Go take a hot shower, though. That should help you loosen up and get washed up from all the makeup and hair products.” Sliding out of the car first, I held my hand out for him to grab. The others had already gone inside. Wooyoung got out, looking at how we were holding hands just so easily his cheeks were rosy red now. Walking inside together, I watched him go to the bathroom as I made my way to the kitchen.

“I think you two will be fine working together, Woo seemed a lot more relaxed this time. Plus don’t think we haven’t noticed the way you were looking at him. All goo goo eyes with giant hearts. Little Mountain has a crush.” Of course, Mingi was going to give me shit for showing interest in Wooyoung.

Flipping him off with a small annoyed huff as I grabbed the ramen from the top cabinet. Sure, Mingi was right about the crush, but there was no way in hell that I’d even try anything until we’d had time to get closer, and he knew more of the truth. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t mention it to him, okay? I don’t even want to try and date anyone until Wooyoung learns about our involvement in how Changbin got hurt. Hell, I think we are all just as shocked that Hongjoong hadn’t told him on the first night.”

Focusing on cooking, I watch as Mingi walks to the counter, leaning against it. “I think Hongjoong is planning something that specifically is tied to Wooyoung. A part of me wonders if he plans to use Wooyoung against Changbin. I know it sounds fucked, but honestly it would be one way to make Stray Kids fall weak. I think Wooyoung knows most of them even though he has no clue what they truly do ya know… So seeing him with us might shock them. I know Wooyoung and Changbin recently fought because Woo half told him about what he was doing now and that he’d quit his job.”

Mingi opened a bottle of water before looking at me before he spoke again. “Wooyoung came to me to talk afterwards. He’d cried for a while because he sees Changbin as a brother more than his best friend. I don’t want to think about his reaction once he learns the truth. Part of me wants to hide it forever. Though I know he’d take it better then maybe Yunho and Yeosang, those two have such gentle hearts.”

Both of us stayed quiet until Wooyoung walked over looking at the food, smiling before he went to the fridge to pull out a cola. “Feel’s nice to not cook for once since I’ve joined the group.” Of course he was only teasing, his dimples showing as the male smiled at me. My heart started to beat fast, damn I wasn’t prepared for his cute smile. “I’ll grab the bowls for us since it looks like everything is almost done.”

After the 3 of us ate Mingi said he was going to go out for a bit, the others were all gone as well doing their daily things or just enjoying the day off basically. Wooyoung and I had decided to go up to my room to watch Lucifer even though it was a foreign show we both had picked since it was being recommended through Netflix. We brought up snacks, drinks, and Wooyoung brought his own pillow to lay on.

After a handful of episodes we were both wide awake, I'd notice how Wooyoung would get all shy or blush when sexual things had appeared which was difficult to not laugh at honestly.

“I'm telling you, San he’s a damn douche! He betrayed her and had the biggest damn lie! Ugh. Honestly though Lucifer is so much better for Chloe, Though Maze, now I lowkey wish there was more on her. Then again we are like… 9 episodes into this so probably more will happen. Though I'm just saying if she doesn't learn the truth about detective douche I'll be mad as fuck.” Wooyoung went on a small rant of the show, though I silently agreed with him that Lucifer and Chloe were cute together. Letting out a yawn I glanced over to my watch, it was already 2am now. I'm surprised no one bothered us but noticing Wooyoung starting to yawn I decided to call it a night.

“We can watch more tomorrow, it's time to sleep though. I forgot we needed to be awake by 7am tomorrow since Hongjoong wants us to work on our cardio. Damn man wants us to suffer.” I sat up and stretched out my arms, grabbing our trash before getting up and tossing it in the bin. I noticed the small pout the other had as he got up, he stretched out before walking over to the door.

“Remind me why I agreed to this?” he asked, clearly not amused with the plans that were made for us in the morning.

“Because Hwa scared you and you said you needed change. Things will be fine though, we can work out for a bit then go get chicken hm? A reward for you working hard.” I tried to make him feel a little better plus something more to look forward to.

Wooyoung took a moment before nodding in agreement. “Only if you are paying Sannie.”

Rolling my eyes at him as I opened my door I just nod, “Yeah, yeah, I'll spoil our pretty Wooyoungie I promise.” holding my pinkie out to lock with his. Once they were locked together and we sealed the deal I noticed how big his smile was now.

“Goodnight Sannie.”

“Sleep well petal.”

[poibynt]

“You we’re my brother, Din. I loved you. Sometimes I hated you, but I loved you.”

A comic I made of a part of a conversation between Paz and Din in chapter 30 of @ryehouses’ fic A Simple Thing a couple of months ago. It was a total learning experience for me, since this is the first comic I’ve ever made, and it’s maybe a bit janky in places but god damn at some point you just need to let it go and live with it. More thoughts and progress photos under the cut.

Designing younger Din and Paz and a younger version of a character with at the time minimal physical descriptions was,,interesting. For Din I tried to find an inbetween of his child self in bright red and his older self in cool brown and silver. So I based his colour pallet more on rusty reds (I kind of forgot pre beskar Din has a BRIGHT red chest plate bc god sometimes I cannot see shit in that show so, ooops) warmer cream and brown as well as some blue for contrast. For Paz I kept his design the closest to his adult self, since Paz settled into his role and vision of himself at a pretty young age, but at this point he hasn’t inherited his father’s armour. Substituted yellow for cream, basically. Annika I just kind of did whatever the fuck I wanted with bc all I had was red armour and zabrack helmet horns at the time. I made her brighter and closer to purple to try and distinguish her from Din. As I think is pretty obvious, I repeated colours throughout all three designs. Everyone has at least one colour directly repeated in someone else’s design, though Din has less literal same hex code colour repeats and more differing shades. Part of this is bc I love small colour pallets and repeating colours for character design. The other part is ✨symbolism✨. I also gave all of them an extra soft good, mainly bc why the fuck not, but Din’s kama was a direct nod to his hip plates bc they’re a very important part of his design and I’ll die on this hill. As for armour, I based it all off of mando s1 design concepts. I gave Din the least amount of armour and tried to bring in a piecemeal vibe. Paz’s chest plate is a bit of a mash up between multiple CotW plate designs. From what armour i designed for Annika I leaned a bit more into modern era/Fett esc armour due to Annika being a Skirata which are on the whole more tied to the True Mandalorians. These designs were not set in stone, and I did change Din’s up a bit in the real thing, especially changing Din’s foot armour to be more DWy and more clearly durasteel.

These are my thumbnails for fun. I’m weirdly attached to them.

[elizabethblake]

That's for me to know, and for you to figure out - pt. 9

Panic Imagine -- Dodge Mason x OC (Reese Silvers) -- pt. 9

A girl from a wealthy family wants to get out of carp just as much as everyone else. With the new guy in town, she seems to be a bit more distracted than she had hoped. ANd those who once were her friends just may be the ones who will throw her into the deep end. Will Panic be what she hopes, or will she fall into the depths of deceit and lies?

"Hey Honey." My mom said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Hey mom." I said as I took a sip of water from the glass in my hand.

"Reese. Did you know Little Bill Kelly was squatting at the Graybill House when you guys went to the party?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"They found his body, in the basement." She said with a sigh.

"A-Are you serious?" I asked.

"I had no idea." I said, shocked then I turned to face Dodge who looked like he knew what she was talking about.

"Sad thing." She said before grabbing a drink from the fridge as well as her keys from the bar.

"I'll see you for dinner." She said before leaving.

"I'm going to take it you knew." I said, looking at him.

"Nat told me her dad told her. Apparently Tyler found his body in the basement. There was a needle. But now the cops are saying the evidence was burned." He said.

"Are you thinking that they are gonna look for someone to charge?" I asked.

"They have good reason, I mean they know we were playing the game. They are close to figuring it out." He said.

"Someone is gonna get tripped up in their lies." I said as Rhett walked into the kitchen.

"Hey." I said.

"Hey." He said back as he opened the fridge and pulled out a wrapped up leftover sandwich.

"Don't stop on my account." He said.

"Rhett." I said.

"Yeah?" He said.

"Do you know anything about Little Bill Kelly?" I asked, and his eyes widened a bit.

"You do." I said and rolled my eyes.

"I only know what Tyler told me okay. That he found him in the basement and he was like shooting up." He said as he took a bite of the sandwich.

"Yeah the cops don't seem to think so." I said.

"Look. I don't know anything else okay. That's all." He said before leaving the kitchen.

"This isn't going to end well." I stated.

"Hey, I've gotta run by my place and drop something of for Dayna. But then I'm heading to Dot's if you wanna come." He said.

"I'd love to." I said.

"There's not much to see though." He added.

As we pulled up to his house we went inside, I glanced at the photos on the mantle as he talked to his sister. I noticed one of him as a kid and realized how he looked almost exactly the same. I started to walk over towards the hall as I glanced at more of the photos. And he made his way into his room, I followed him in there.

"You know, you look the exact same as when you were like 8." I said as I noticed some of the trophies on his shelf.

"I'm gonna pretend like you didn't say that." He said with a half laugh.

"I told you there's not much to see." He said as I glanced at his open closet.

"Ah gray, gray, gray, black, black. You do know there are other colors." I said with a smile.

"I've heard rumors." He said.

"It's like monastery in here." I said.

"Maybe I'm atoning for something." He added.

"Are these yours?" I asked as I pointed at a shelf of trophies.

"Some of them yeah, some of them are my dad's." He answered.

"Woah." I said looking at the largest one.

"Yeah, I was um 16 when I got that, after I beat his time. Never forget the look on his face that day." He said.

"Well, he must have been proud." I said.

"Not really." He said.

"He was drunk. That was the last day I saw him actually alive." He added.

"Anyway, uh I don't know he came back a few months later after that and he hung himself. You know he'd always used to joke that he would die with a bull rope in his hand- I'm sorry that's a"-

"No, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything" I said.

"No, I'm...that was..."

"No I shouldn't have said anything." I repeated.

*queue the best song ever crack a deal by aunty social*

"No. You were fine, you were fine." He mumbled, and I embraced him in a hug, and the tension crept up my back. I suddenly was aware of the silence that was flooding the room.

I leaned back as I looked him in the eye, and I took a deep breath. I leaned in slowly leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips and I was eased when I felt him push give into the kiss and place his hand on my cheek.

I felt his hand trail down to my sweater as he undid the buttons and pushed it over my shoulders as we continued the kiss, the pit in my stomach started to feel so big and my nerves were shot as the realization of what was going on registered in my mind.

I slipped his shirt over his head and he then ran his hands down my back and to the backs of my thighs as he lifted my slightly and I hooked my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bed. Laying me gently on my back, I felt a small pain creep up in my ribs and I winced but he only glanced down and traced a small line over one of the bruises.

"Does it hurt." He asked.

"Only a little." I said.

"I'll be gentle." He said, before going back in for a kiss which trailed down my neck and onto my chest and down to my stomach and pelvis.

I felt his hands go to undo the zipper on the back of my skirt and he slipped it down my legs and threw it on the floor. He littered kisses around the band of my panties and I inhaled deeply as my stomach flooded with butterflies.

"Are you sure." He asked, looking up at me from his position at my thighs.

"Yes." I said, and he pulled my panties down my legs painfully slow and then they joined my skirt on the ground along with his pants and underwear as well.

He came back up and joined his lips with mine and before I knew it he had pushed himself inside of me and a gasp escaped my mouth and and his kisses littered down to my neck as I felt his grasp on my hand tighten with the next thrust and before I knew it our breaths were the only thing I focused on as they filled the air.

"Dodge, what are you gonna do if you win?" I asked, laying next to him under the sheets.

"If we win, you mean?" He said.

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. What about you? What are you gonna do with the money?" He asked.

"When I was little my mom used to take me to the office with her and I would see how amazing her job was. You know, selling these houses and finding new ones to fix up and sell. Then once I got older I'd go to the country club with her, my dad, and Rhett and we'd have brunch on the weekends and Rhett and I would have tennis practice during the week. And all I could think about is how I didn't want to end up like her. That I just wanted to get out of Carp and start my own thing, and now that I'm at that point I don't think I can do it." I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I don't think that I can move on from this and make myself any different from her." I said.

"I already feel bad enough playing in panic." I said and Dodge scrunched his brows.

"I got into the University of Texas. I'm going in the fall to study real-estate just like my mom did. I'm on the same track to become the same privileged person she is and I can't even let people who need the money compete without me in the running to take it." I said.

"So why are you playing." He said.

"To help my brother." I said.

"He did a very bad thing Dodge and if I don't win this money something very bad is going to happen to him and me and other people involved and I have no plan, no way to figure out how to do this." I said.

"What exactly did he do Reese?" He asked.

*summer before senior year*

"You know, orange is your color." Ray said as I lay on the pontoon with the breeze blowing over us.

"Yeah? It should be, that way when I get into UT it'll be like nothin' ever changed." I said, smiling and lifting onto my elbows.

Ray leaned over me and placed a kiss on my lips and I leaned into it as I lay back down and continued it. But a crash broke us from the kiss.

"What was that?" I asked, looking back at Ray's place.

"I don't know probably Luke and his buddies." He said before placing a hand on my cheek and pulling me back in, but then a shout echoed through the trees.

"No seriously Ray what is that." I said leaning up to get a good look at his place, I only then had noticed the end of my brother's car was peering through the tree and my head snapped to Ray.

"Is my brother here?" I asked him, and he swallowed.

"Ray is Rhett here?" I asked again.

"Reese." He said.

"Fuck." I said getting up and hopping into the boat.

Once we made it to the dock I got off the boat and headed to the door.

"Reese please stop." Ray called out as I walked up the steps and into his home.

"Rhett lets go. Now." I said as I walked in, but I saw nothing. I walked over to the kitchen but nothing was in there , then I walked over to the bathroom and opened the door to see a burly man holding my brother in the bathtub with a gun to his head.

"What the fuck!?" I exclaimed as I backed away from the door.

"And who are you?" The man said as he turned to me, gun still in hand as he looked me up and down and I realized the bathing suit wasn't covering much.

"She's my sister you fuckin' freak!" Rhett said as he tackled the man to the ground.

"Rhett!" I shouted as I became worried about the gun.

"Reese?" Ray said as he slammed the screen door, his eyes widened when he saw the scene.

"Miller what the hell are you doin' here?" He asked the man as he lay on the ground.

"Just here to collect what's mine." He said as Rhett pushed his way between me and Ray and left the house. Ray grabbed my hand and pulled me outside.

"You need to go now." He muttered.

"What is going on." I asked.

"Just leave." He said, but then the slam of the screen door caught our attention.

"Not so fast, why is everyone leaving the party so soon?" The man asked.

"Miller, just let them go. Luke will be home soon, they have no trouble with you." Ray said.

"I beg to differ." He said.

"This little one owes me about 15k for the drugs he's used." He said, pointing at my brother.

“What. Are you fucking serious Rhett.” I snapped at him. 

“So someone’s gotta pay up.” He said, pointing the gun at us. 

“Not today Miller.” A voice boomed and Luke, Ray’s older brother came out from behind the trailer. 

“Luke.” Miller stated. 

“This ain’t none of your business.” He added.

“It is when you’re wavin’ a gun around at my brother.” He said. 

“Well this little whore and her brother owe me my money.” He shouted.

“Well, we can get that sorted out without the gun.” He said. A beat, but then he put his gun away.

“You’re right.” He said, then walked down the steps and towards his motorcycle but he stopped beside me and leaned in. Ray scooted over to me and placed his hand on my arm but the man still spoke. 

“I’m sure you’ll get that money to me soon sweetheart.” He said before leaving. 

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Luke shouted. 

“Are you okay.” Ray asked and I nodded.

“I need to get him out of here.” I said as I walked over towards my brother and unlocked my car for him to get in. Ray followed me to the car. 

“I’ll come back out with him and get his car.” I said. 

“Okay.” He said softly, picking my hand up and lacing his fingers with mine. 

“Reese are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. 

“No. But I’ll deal with this.” I said before leaning in and kissing him. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow okay.” I said before I got in the car, cranked it, and pulled out. 

*back to present*

“It’s been a year, you haven’t heard anything?” Dodge asked. 

“I didn’t say that. I ran into him a few months ago, said I needed more time to get the money cause college took a lot. He gave me until July 12th.” I said.

“Reese, why didn’t you tell the cops?” He asked. 

“Tell them what Dodge? That my brother was a junkie and had to get his fix and got us caught up in a drug thing. That would kill my mother’s image and my father. He’s the mayor he can’t have a druggie son. There was nothing I could do.” I said. 

“Do you have the money?” He asked. 

“Why do you think I’m playing Panic. Like I said. I need this money Dodge.” I said before laying on my back and staring at the ceiling.

“What if you don’t get it?” He asked. 

“I’m afraid he’ll kill us. But I’m going to get the money one way or another.” I said. 

[velathetanager]

Tick, Tick, Tick (a Cybersphere One-Shot)

Author’s Note: Silver is a precious metal and a precious character, and it really did hurt to do this to him. --- In Sonic's defense, it had been the best option at the time. Silver was a dangerous hedgehog, and to be on the business end of his power was not something the blue blur wanted to go through again, even if it was for his own good. So when the time traveler stopped by, he had to think fast. Thankfully, Silver had dropped a plan right into his lap. "Sonic! I'm so glad I caught up with you. We got another future catastrophe to avoid." The hedgehog turned to the voice, dressed in a red and black jumpsuit. "Heya, Silver. Another one? Are you sure it's our fault this time?" Silver smiled slightly. "Most things are," he joked, hovering upside-down briefly before landing on his feet. "In all seriousness. I don't know where it came from, but I wanted to check here first and work my way closer to or father from this point in time depending on how it goes. Do you have time to help me?" Sonic leaned against a tree. "Sure. Just what are we looking for?" "Destruction's Core. A superweapon currently being used by one of Eggman's descendants to terrorize the planet. I don't know anything about how to counter it. Or where it might be." Silver held up a photo. A stormy orb that rather resembled a skull. Sonic cringed. "Okay... this is gonna suck to find, but I can help you, man. Let's start with the basics..." The Green Hill Zone didn't have it. Neither did Aquatic Run or the Marble Zone. Or really, any zone the pair checked. They fought badniks, mercenaries, and even the Deadly Six during their search, which visibly tired Silver out a little, but he wouldn't stop. Not now. The Core was too dangerous. So he carried on, burning himself out as Sonic helped him track down the weapon. Eventually, their search led them to the Mystic Cave Zone. Silver, of course, did a lot of the work moving boulders and gems out of the way, clearing the path for Sonic (who really needed to not run if he wanted to notice anything important, now that he thought about it). The caverns were long and winding, and there were deeper and deeper paths the two could go through. But Sonic was eventually the one to find the right one. "HEY SILVER! C'MERE!" he called, staring at the Core. It practically radiated malice and death; even the eyes in the skull looked sunken in and bore a sickly orange glow. Silver floated in, looking at it and seeming to go pale. "Oh... yep. That's it, alright. It looks so much worse up close..." "I bet," Sonic replied. "It's terrifying. A real game changer. Good thing we found it, huh?" And then he tackled Silver. The gray hedgehog tried to throw Sonic off, but the blue blur held his hands down and cuffed him. Of course, this prompted a shocked, "What the hell are you doing?!" "Listen. Silver. I can't explain everything right now, but big changes are coming soon, and if they happen the way things are now, I'll never see you again. And I don't want that. So I have to do this before I destroy that Core." "Do what?!" Sonic sighed. "I'm going to cut you off from the flow of time. And it's going to hurt. A lot. But I swear, you'll feel and BE better once I'm done. And you'll be immune to timeline changes." "Wh- You're insane! That's not even possible!" Silver protested. To which Sonic replied with a slow change in appearance, starting with an antenna poking out behind his ear. "Maybe for anyone else." One of his gloves turned black and the other disappeared, revealing a robotic hand. "But here's the thing." The sweatsuit twisted and warped into a black cape, revealing a red X on his chest with a silver circle in the center. "I've been running with a new crowd recently." His long, black boots retracted, revealing robotic versions of his lower legs along with black stripes where the white had been. "And they specialize in all the things no one should be able to do." A red visor grew from one side of Sonic's head to the other, and a red halo flared to life behind him, making him look like a dark angel. "So yes, I can do that." The silver circle on his chest opened, revealing a piercing red eye that stared right into Silver's own. Silver, understandably, tried to speak up. "Wait-" But Sonic just sighed, muted his hearing sense, and went to work. Time bent and broke around them. Space writhed and twisted. The universe was dragged into submission as Sonic violently tore Silver away from its laws. Even with the muted hearing, Sonic could hear Silver's ear-splitting cries just from the look on his face and the way his body was flashing and scrambling itself, then unscrambling itself. And it was terrible. But Sonic wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He didn't want to lose a friend. Finally the process ended. Silver lay weakly on the ground, holding his side, and Sonic cradled him, soothing him. "You did good, buddy... I'm so sorry. I wish it didn't have to hurt. It'll make sense soon, I promise. Just... just let me take you home." The blue hedgehog picked Silver up gently and put him to sleep (Sedative power was amazing). Then he looked at the Core. Arms made of shadow swarmed it and covered it. It took five seconds to grind the thing to dust. It had served its purpose, and he couldn't risk anyone else getting a hold of it. Sonic carried Silver into darkness and disappeared. humming a lullaby to the time traveler in his arms. It would be fine. Cybernet would make it fine.