#it just fits golden age billy so well

[weepingfishturtledragon]

I want to hear Billy Batson and/or Captain Marvel with a transatlantic accent! From what I've read it seems possible, Shazam was created in 1939 and the transatlantic accent ended after world war ii which was 1945. This means that it is entirely possible that the golden age Captain Marvel/Billy Batson could have had a transatlantic accent!

Imagine Billy with his Golden boy personality, iconic all American boy next door looks, and his transatlantic accent, like no matter what he does he comes off as adorable! He could burn someone's house down and all he would have to do is say "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I didn't see that candle there." and he'd get away with it! Captain Marvel would probably give off the vibe of an alien who learned everything he knows about Earth from old Hollywood films!

[kenandeliza]

A Marvel Family Fantasy AU

A few days ago, I randomly dreamt of Drawing Billy and Tawny in a fantasy setting.

Billy was this kid wizard and Tawny was his companion (or an animal to ride on like a horse)

Then it got me thinking, maybe in this setting, Mary could be someone of high status in this fantasy setting (since she's in a rich family in the golden age comics)

I'm inclined to think Freddy would be a captain of a ship for irony-sake but I have a feeling pirates and fantasy settings don't match well?

It's just funny for me to think of him with a peg leg xD

After further discussion with @the-brash-spud :

Warning: Too many text :>

These are the ideas we have so far (if there are quotation marks, those ideas belonged to @the-brash-spud ):

—

Maybe Billy and Mary were prince and princess separated by birth, (i'm not sure if its a kidnapping or the baby got lost on his own) but the wizard founded billy and trained him.

At the ripe age of (insert young age below a teenager's), The wizard decided to grant him the power of shazam to turn him into the world's mightiest Wizard!

Captain Marvel!

Wizard dies and then Billy and Tawny have adventures together, maybe helping people along the way (maybe somehow found out that Mary is his sister :p idk)

“ I think you could go angst if you made the wizard get brutally hurt in a battle to protect Billy and the rock of eternity so in a last ditch effort he transports the rock to its own pocket of existence and then giving Billy powers of shazam because its as ready as he'll be able to make the kid :) and it's his last effort for Billy to be protected even if he has to do so himself because he has failed :)) made Billy cry as Wizard turns into dust in Billy’s hands :)))”

—

Uncle marvel can be a con-man/thief who took pity on Billy or realiz, teaching Billy that the world isn't always honest and he's like, "Billy, don't always give money to the poor on the streets, sometimes they faked their illness to be lazy”

" Billy: "The man in the shadowy corner needs my help."

Uncle: "No, the hell he doesn't!”"

—-

How Billy Met Freddy

Billy probably met Freddy in a bar fight. How did the kid get into a bar?

Billy looked at the man exiting the pub with a bottle.

Billy: Ohh! So this is where you get refreshments here! I wonder If they have enough Milk for Tawny..

Pub sign written NO KIDS ALLOWED!"

*Billy can only read magic scrolls and not regular alphabet*

Cue him meeting Freddy (who's armwrestling with one of the people there)

(Insert Bar fight for some reason because The child decided to drink a white cocktail thinking it was milk and the fact that Billy is a Kid)

“Freddie is definitely that kid having his ass thrown out of the bar/pub/inn”

I'd like to think he and his brother are a team, prolly sailed a ship together.

“Yes, they target slave ships. Unless you wanna go different routes. Then, he is focused on certain nations' flags that have a whole lot of red in them

Also, he goes to the bars just to start bar fights over drunks being mean/nasty to the landlady. The landlady doesn't appreciate it bc now she has a broken table and four broken chairs”

Freddy faces the Captain Nazi equivalent of a pirate [Captain Arian? Like Aryan?] XD, Freddy lost his leg the same way, from his encounter with Captain Arian.

Kit (probably a necromancer or a ghost who's cursed to be bound in the ship Freddy's in, making Freddy more attached to the ship) can still summon crewmembers.

Maybe they both meet mary during the birthday ceremony parade

Maybe Mary snuck off from her family (disguise herself as a regular girl, i know, generic plot) and then meet Billy accidentally

Billy: It's my birthday today!

Mary: What a coincidence! It's mine too!

The-brash-spud: “Billy, in his innocence, thinks ,"There must be something to us sharing birthdays!" While Freddy calls him stupid, Billy tries to get a look at the princes and then cue the lung-fu panda rocket incident, but maybe something else more fitting with Freddy being pulled along”

On an unrelated note, i think Billy knew about Freddy's peg legafter either a pirate slashed it clean and Freddy just used it to bonk his head.

Billy is still screaming from the shock and immediately casted healing spells (i'd like to think everything about billy is lightning based- so yes getting struck by lightning is a healing spell for him :D) Freddy got shocked lmao

And what about boarding Tawny on the ship?

Billy:"Please???"

Freddy: "I'm not letting a tiger into my ship."

Kit who absolutely adores animals: "YES"

Freddy:"NO!”

Kit:" Does he love belly rubs??"

Billy:" yes but you have to ask him politely for his permission-”

Freddy rolled his eyes, realizing he has to clean cat fur everyday off from the furnitures.

___

How did Mary, a royalty tag along with a kid wizard and a pirate?

“Yeah, I guess forced separation would work better. Hell, go with a scenario that will allow them to have Mary with the parents' blessings as long as she's kept safe (she isn't, but that's because she is the danger herself)”

Mary and Billy: "Yay adventure"

Freddy: "Oh great, now I have to take care of two kids and a tiger in my ship!?"

*Freddy looking at Kit and the kids + a tiger playing together, kit seems happy*

Freddy: "...i guess it's alright..”

___

How Freddy and Mary found out about the wizard?

“Hmmmm, maybe Billy takes them to the rock because they were in a pickle, and unforeseen effects happen?

They got surrounded maybe?

Also I can see the aftermath

"You were raised by THE Wizard!? THE Wizard?! A Wizard of legends so often told he is recognisable even if his name was lost?!"

"Oh, his name is Shazam-" *BANG*”

____

Hopefully i could draw these AU ideas, I don't plan on making this into a story, i just like the concept that my dream gave my a few days ago and I’m just expanding it. Sorry for too many text xD

I don't mind if you want to add something to this silly lil AU, It's just a fun thing for me to do :p

[lordkingsmith]

Made up Title: Glimmer of Rainbow

Title: Glimmer of Rainbow

Rating: T

Media: Power Rangers, battle for the grid, boom!comic power rangers, Holly Boy, Stranger Things, Power Rangers 2017

Summary:

All the rangers and their counterparts being pulled into one reality to fight for the sake of the multiverse causes a lot of friction. And before it was perfected the spell, well…tended to pull whoever fit from whatever reality it deemed had the highest likelihood of producing a power ranger…eventually.

Billy thought he’d died in the mall. He didn’t. He woke up staring at his face, on the body of a well put together country hick prep looking teen about his age next to a tortured looking kid who sort of looked like them holding a spellbook. Next to them a Peter Pan looking elf teasing an absolutely horrified look alike with a platinum streak in his hair wearing red.

Billy and the elf, Holly Boy, aren’t supposed to be here. This was a complete accident. One countrtpart of Billy’s, another Jason Lee Skott, promises to send them home. When he figures out how he brought them here in the first place. However, when rangers start dying in this war and Billy has to actually confront the fact he’s presumed dead in his own world, it’s almost easier to become part of these teenaged skittle brigade than consider he might never actually be able to go home in any real way. A Jason Lee Scott falls in battle; Billy picks up his morpher and becomes a golden glimmer in this tattered rainbow. When Andros dies as well, Holly Boy steps in as a brilliant red.

Billy’s got no idea what’s going to happen, he just knows he’s too stubborn to let it happen without his say so. He owes a bunch of dorks and an idiot in a reality a long long way from here. So does Holly Boy. But they’re part of the multiverse and damnit; that matters. Billy might be dead in his old reality. However he still lived there. Might as well even the score, show the universe his middle finger. He’s going to do good this time. He’s going to be good, this time.

-

@augment-techs

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #24: 1973

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Tony Orlando and Dawn, Jim Croce, Roberta Flack, Marvin Gaye, Paul McCartney and Wings Kris Kristofferson, Elton John, Billy Preston, Carly Simon, Diana Ross. End description]

More information about this blog here

*Turns my chair around so I can sit in it backwards*

So. You were just caught trying to cover up a major break-in into the Democratic National Committee headquarters in order to cement your reelection.

As I alluded to last poll, one major historical event I need to mention is the Watergate scandal. The actual break-in took place the previous year, but the resulting investigations and trials won't start to take place until this year -- after Nixon's reelection. However, there aren't many songs about the incident from this time, or at least not in the charts. Most of the songs protesting Nixon tended to focus on the war.

Speaking of the Vietnam War, 1973 does not mark the end of the war, but it does mark the beginning of the United States' exit. To bring it back to the music, one of the 60's polls included the Monkees' Last Train to Clarksville, a song that wasn't explicitly written about the war, but had the war projected onto it because it's a song about someone leaving home and not knowing when they're coming back. It seems fitting that one of the songs on today's poll is Tony Orlando and Dawn's Tie a Yellow Ribbon[...], a song that wasn't explicitly written about the war, but had the war projected onto it because it's a song about someone coming home and not knowing what his welcome will look like.

Soul music is continuing to have one of its golden ages, with artists like Roberta Flack and Marvin Gaye topping the charts. It's been a while since I talked about Billboard from the business side of things, but the explosion of this genre gives me a good excuse to do so. In 1973, the Billboard chart for R&B songs was changed from "Best Selling Soul Singles" to "Hot Soul Singles". This change may not sound that significant, but it becomes more notable when you see how often this title changes. This article goes more into depth about Billboard's complicated history when it comes to its representation of Black music.

Which reminds me, it's time to start talking about disco. It will reach the polls soon, I promise, but now feels like a good time to set the scene before we get to that point. As I mentioned in a previous poll, the disco scene really came out of soul. Especially Philly Soul, which had lush instrumentation that worked really well with the overall atmosphere of early disco. At this point in history, disco is still an underground subculture, and musically the line between it and soul music isn't that clear. Disco as its own genre of music that could be identified as such by the average listener will come later.

I don't usually talk about the formation of genres until they reach the charts, but I'm going to make an exception here. Because 2023 is the 50th anniversary of this genre, the genre has grown into a dominating musical force across the globe, and it's the only genre I actually studied in college.

In 1973, a Jamaican-American teenager named Clive Campbell (more widely known as DJ Kool Herc) and his sister, Cindy, started hosting parties out of their apartment in The Bronx, New York. These parties would play a lot of funk records, but he wouldn't just play them. Instead, he would play two copies of the same record on a turntable so he could extend the percussion section of the song, also called the break (which is where breakdancing comes from). This would lay the foundation for hip-hop, further expanded by artists like Grandmaster Flash and Afrika Bambaataa. All three of these men are still alive and I've linked interviews with some of them.

Hip-hop and rap are often used interchangeably, but there is a difference. Hip-hop exists both as a subculture and as a style of music. It incorporates art forms such as DJing, breakdancing, graffiti, beatboxing, rapping, and many other elements. That's why I said DJ Kool Herc helped set the foundation of hip-hop. Within early hip-hop culture, the MC was mostly there to bounce off of the DJ and keep the energy up. That isn't to discredit the difficult work of early MCs (trust me, if you were bad at it, the audience would let you know). Rap itself as an art from has a plethora of different artistic roots in Black culture, from scat singing in jazz, to various traditional West African storytelling techniques, to early 20th century gospel groups, to rhyme games, to Black radio DJs. The genre started to get more notice outside of the party scene as wordplay and flows started to expand further, especially as the first hip-hop groups started to form and the MCs became part of the "band". Like disco, hip-hop was still very much an underground subculture, but it would soon take over the nation.

It will be another 17 years before the first rap song reaches number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby). We won't see a rap song featured on these polls until 1995. But it's hip-hop's 50th birthday, and so much of modern American culture doesn't make sense without its involvement.

[anotherwvba]

Family Matters, pt. 2

Part 2 - Legacy

“What’s your name, son?”

“Billy, sir.” The young man’s hands were practically trembling in the presence of a legend as he handed his event program over.

The older man, tall and gruff sounding, pulled a marker from the pocket of his suit coat and gently took the program in hand. “How old are you, Billy?”

“11, sir,” Billy looked on in awe, “but I turn 12 in January. My mom and dad said that once I turn 13, I can start taking boxing lessons.”

“Really?” Eyes widening in playful surprise as he took the top off of his marker. “Strapping young man like you, got decent size for your age, and, if you take good care of yourself, you’ll only get bigger. Fill out your frame,” with a wink to the boy’s parents, he added, “Makes me glad I retired.”

“Really?” Billy excitedly started bouncing around.”

His father put his hand on his son’s shoulder, “Calm down, Billy.”

“Alright, let’s sign this for you,” the older man muttered as he wrote in golden ink on Billy’s program. “‘Knock ‘em out, Billy! Sleep tight, ‘Mister Sandman’ Tyrone Sands, 3x WVBA Champ.’” He put the cap back on his marker while waving the program to dry the ink. “Here you go, kid. Thanks for coming out tonight.”

“Thank you, sir,” Billy said, taking the program as Mister Sandman handed it back over.

Billy’s father offered his hand, “Thanks, Champ. I really appreciate it.”

“Any time,” Mister Sandman shook his hand with a warm smile. Then, he watched as Billy and his parents left the lobby of The Omni, the last of the fans to leave. It was a ritual for the old prizefighter-turned-commentator, one held over from the time when people didn’t just call him Champ, but from when he was The Champ.

“Every fan…” a voice came from behind Mister Sandman.

“... every time,” he finished a phrase he’d spoken so many times. He turned to see his youngest child Sahara “Razor Sharp” Sands standing with a big grin on her face and her arms folded. She took after her mother in the looks department, a fact for which they were both thankful. Her father wasn’t hard to look at, but he was always hard on the rugged side of “ruggedly handsome”.

“They pay the bills, princess,” Tyrone smiled as he turned back to his baby girl. His tone shifted, as well. Mister Sandman has a moniker, a persona, but Tyrone Sands was daddy and this was his youngest, another of his children following in his footsteps. “Never forget that. You can fight anywhere, anytime, anyone. But if no one’s paying to see it…”

“... you’re not boxing, you’re stupid.” It was Sahara’s turn to finish a familiar phrase. Boxing had always been a passion in the Sands family, but their father taught them it was also a business. He had told them all that you can only take so many punches in your life, so you best get paid well for every single one.

Tyrone held his arms out wide, beckoning his daughter in for a hug. At his height as WVBA Champion, his frame was imposing, 6 foot 5 and 290 pounds. He was still huge and fit, but had trimmed down from his fighting days and walked around at 245. Sahara, not small by any means, was still dwarfed by her father.

“Why you here so late?” Tyrone asked as they began to walk deeper into The Omni.

Sahara shrugged, “There were still fans in the building. Don’t leave ‘til the last fan leaves. You taught me that.”

“Glad one of my kids listened,” he said wistfully. They both knew who he was referring to by that.

Sahara’s fists clenched as she sensed the pain coming from her father. Andre, Tyrone’s firstborn, the oldest of the four Sands siblings, was calling himself The Sandman and was doing everything he could to surpass and supplant their father in the eyes of the fans and the history books, trying to erase his legacy.

“You know,” Sahara looked down, searching for words. “I… I think he still loves you, dad?”

“Oh, baby girl,” Tyrone held a service corridor door open for his daughter, “I know that. And I love him. But, you can love somebody and still despise them. And we both know Andre despises the hell out of me.”

Sahara walked through the door, followed by her dad. They walked down the dimly lit hallway that was mainly used by the janitors and maintenance personnel to get to the locker rooms and backstage of The Omni from the main concourse. “But why, dad? I don’t get it and Andre won’t talk about it.”

“Sahara, it’s not worth…” Tyrone began.

“Bull. Shit.” Sahara’s voice was plain and forceful. Forceful enough, in fact, to cause the legendary Mister Sandman to stop in his tracks. Sahara turned to face her father. “I came to the WVBA because my big brother is dragging your name, Sandman, your name, through the mud. He’s being everything you weren’t. He’s cocky, disrespectful, selfish, and doesn’t give a damn who he hurts. That’s not how you raised us, any of us.”

Tyrone’s jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly as Sahara spoke, his eyes dropped to the concrete floor, but he stayed silent.

“Daddy,” Sahara’s tone softened and she took his hands into hers, “I love you. I came here for you, for our family. If I could get in the ring and beat some sense into Andre, I would.”

That drew a chuckle from her father, “You wouldn’t last a round.” Tyrone looked at their clasped hands, then to his girl’s eyes. “Your brother’s a spiteful asshole, but he’s a helluva fighter.”

“The point is,” Sahara rolled her eyes before continuing on, “I turned down half again as much money from the EVBA to come here and I did it for you. Nanshe is riding out her contract at Majestic and wants to come here for you. What happened?”

Tyrone looked down the hallway, passed his daughter, “Sahara, it ain’t that easy.”

Sahara placed a gentle hand on her father’s cheek, turning his gaze back to her. “I get that. But whatever it is, I love and I always will. You’re my daddy and nothing changes that.”

Mister Sandman, Tyrone Sands, let out a deep sigh, “Aight, baby girl. Let’s go to the gym.”

“The gym?” Sahara was confused. “What for?”

Tyrone put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and resumed their walk, “‘Cause both of us gonna wanna punch something.”

[nakuuro1994]

So essentially I was also thinking about maybe doing a sexy AU version of Mrs. Rich from Billy & Mandy where she actually ended up becoming Grim’s girlfriend (and later wife) after her own husband Mr. Rich accidentally died from a mysterious boating accident.

It’s pretty much called “Billy & Mandy: Love & Death” (Or alternatively named “Billy & Mandy: Death & The Maiden”).

So essentially after the tragic death of Mr. Rich, Mrs. Rich unintentionally meets up with Grim as he soon shows up at her mansion to reap her husband’s soul for his day job….only for her to recognize him as the rather dashing headless gentleman that she happened to take a liking to from a few years back as she soon decided to actually start hanging out & date Grim again (this time with his head) as they start to grow closer together much to Billy & Mandy’s utter shock and confusion.

(Thus essentially becoming Billy & Mandy’s new super cool & rich babysitter as a result)

Meanwhile Grim is just happy that he finally found some love & happiness in his rather miserable life as Marylin Rich pretty much acts as a proper mother figure to both Billy & Mandy (with Mandy herself absolutely loving the idea of having a powerful billionaire for a “new auntie” while Billy just loves her cooking)

Not to mention that she also quickly gains some supernatural powers of her own while hanging out with Grim such as…

A) Superhuman Physique

B) An Golden Touch/Gaze

C) Age Shifting/Semi-Immortality

D) Luck Manipulation

So essentially she’s now a beautiful “drop-dead gorgeous” powerhouse and lucky as fuck as she can pretty much turn anything she sees & touches into solid gold nowadays on command, as well as manipulate her own physical age to become functionally immortal. Plus it just fits with her already lavish lifestyle that she makes for herself and for grim too, I can also see her being so seductive yet genuinely lovely that she could stalemate Mandy over control of her boney hubby.

Not to mention that I can also see Marilyn being super supportive of Mandy’s more ambitious goals as she finds Mandy’s own personal plans for world domination extremely cute and interesting. Plus I also see Marilyn being super loving & coddling towards Billy as she would probably completely spoil him with all of the food & games he could ever want.

And Grim himself would just be so happy he’s no longer grinding his bones to dust taking care of those brats. Now he just got Marilyn to snap him in half like some underworld chiropractor.

Also I was also thinking about having Marylin be the calming voice of reason for the group that generally acts as the figurative glue that keeps everyone from ripping each other apart.

[alarrytale]

To anon writing how H looked young back in 2019/early 2020 and when performing at Coachella he looked like he aged at least 10 years.

We all know what was happening in late 2020 - nov 2022 and so I’m wondering if this awful phase of his (and ours as well) life might be the reason why he aged more than usual? I still remember him looking totally exhausted and done for his last show in LA few days before bua dropped and I just think this awful stunt + him catching all projects at once (postponed tour + promo for H’sH + promo for 2 movies…eventho he didn’t put much effort into it imo, luckily for one, unfortunately for second) made marks on his face. Plus he got that sick that he had to postpone 3 shows what is also something he’s never done before.

Like he can claim how healthy lifestyle he’s living (or is it another artificial bs for fans/gp to fit his image?) but imo you can’t escape stressful lifestyle full of constant travelling, dealing with jetlags every other month, being involved into multiple projects and businesses.

Also a question, if we compare his image/closet to Ricky Martin’s image during 00’s, RM came out at age 39. Do you think if H won’t actually be atracttive for his youngest fans nor gp and his fans at his age will see through all the bs, will he be more likely able to come out because there won’t more risk of loosing money and in 10 years S*ny surely will have new young and bright golden goose who will “take care” of his youngest fans and replace him?

Hi, anon!

I think these last four or five years have been extra hectic and he's pushed himself to the limit (and beyond). He doesn’t know how to relax and not work. It's like he knows he's on borrowed time. It did seem like he planned to take a bit of a break after his tour ended, but now it seems like he hasn't had a break at all.

I don't know what's stopping H from coming out. If it's a 20 year long image clause, if it's a 5 album solo deal or if it's something else. So we don’t know when it's possible for him to come out. He won't do it without Louis i believe. If Sony has the ability to have him come out sooner i think it will take a lot to pursuade them, even if his fans now are grown up and he's in his 30s. I would hope Sony would have a new teenage bopper, a Justin Bieber or Shawn Mendes (but straight), or perhaps a new boyband (not S*mon Cow*ll made) ready to take H's place. The teenagers/early 20's of today only have female artist to project onto like Billie and Olivia. They would do well to have a male too. That would take away pressure from H (and Shawn tbh). The sooner the better imo.

[eloiseabernathy]

welcome to a look within eloise's mind in songs !

Castles Crumbling Taylor Swift (ft. Hayley Williams)

Once, I had an empire in a golden age I was held up so high, I used to be great They used to cheer when they saw my face Now, I fear I have fallen from grace And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now

Foolish One Taylor Swift

My cards are on the table, yours are in your hand Chances are, tonight, you've already got plans And chances are I will talk myself to sleep again You give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high Wishful thoughts forget to mention when something's really not right And I will block out these voices of reason in my head And the voices say, "You are not the exception You will never learn your lesson" Foolish one Stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will take the long way, you will take the long way down

Lacy Olivia Rodrigo

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell? Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies Did I ever tell you that I'm not doin' well? Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time Watching, hidden in plain sight Ooh, I try, I try, I try But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere The sweetest torture one could bear Smart, sexy Lacy, I'm losin' it lately I feel your compliments like bullets on skin Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

COPYCAT Billie Eilish

Don't be cautious, don't be kind You committed, I'm your crime Push my button anytime You got your finger on the trigger But your trigger finger's mine Silver dollar, golden flame Dirty water, poison rain Perfect murder, take your aim I don't belong to anyone But everybody knows my name By the way, you've been uninvited 'Cause all you say, are all the same things I did Copycat tryna cop my manner Watch your back when you can't watch mine Copycat tryna cop my glamor Why so sad, bunny? Can't have mine

Mirrorball Taylor Swift

I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I can change everything about me to fit in You are not like the regulars The masquerade revelers Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten Hush When no one is around, my dear You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you Hush I know they said the end is near But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

[popculturebuffet]

Next up for Nickelodeon era of shows, who is your favorite character from each of the late 90s/early 2000s Nicktoons shows you've seen like: The Angry Beavers, CatDog, The Wild Thornberrys, SpongeBob SquarePants (aka their big cash cow), Rocket Power, As Told By Ginger, Invader Zim, Action League Now, and The Fairly OddParents?

The Angry Beavers: Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh do do do do do doot do doot doot... theme songs were catchy back in the day. Anyways, Dagget. I mean Richard Steven Horvitz geninely wins, but it's one of his better and more underated roles. As for the show itself it holds up fairly well, has a lot of creativity to it and is thus a lot of fun.

CatDog: Lola who was sadly underused, wtih cat a close second because well. .jim cummings. Cummings on. The series itself... is not great. Part of why those two win is while Cat has his jerkass moments, no question... they tend to be the least odious in a cast mostly filled with assholes. CatDog is a sadist show where Cat get spunished when he does wrong and punished more when he dosen't. It has it's moments and I do liike the design of our lead and Dog in his moments where he's less of a blight on Cat's life (ANd I say this as someone who loves cats AND doggos a lot and will coo over just about any one of them I come across). Great designwork, great voice cast (including a smattering of good billy west roles), but not a lot else to actually help it be.. good.

The Wild Thornberrys: Darwin. While his general role is to go "Most undorthadox" he does it well and is fun to watch.L Nigel of course also slaps, being you know, Tim Curry. But I have to go with my heart> This series.. I dont' remember well. It wasn't bad or anything, I just havne't revisted it like the two above, so most of my memories are hazy. I remember finding the movie mid minus the big ole twist with Debbie, I missed when movies for tv shows really mixed up the status quo, not great not helped by Nigels asshole mom being inserted into the film just to make the plot happen. The show itself I remember liking and I like having something this diffrent on nick at the time. Spongebob: Whose my boy is a hard one here as in their golden age most of the cast is pretty damn special.. but id' have to say good old Mr. Krabs. Beebeeboopboopboopboop. Seriously though, as both an adult and a kid a lot of my faviorties were Mr. Krabs episodes, from Krusty Krab Training Video, to my faviorite as a kid (and certainly top 10 today) Krabby Land to the panty raid one. Yes that was a faviorite as a kid. Odds are if the episode is Krusty krab focused, it'd be a good time with a few notable exceptions. He was truly the stan pines of his day, being the morally questionable adult in the room who really, shoudln't be THE adult in the room.. or in the room as he's probably doing something sketchy in there. The show itself is a classic: it's lasted simpsons length for a reason, and whle it certainly has his dark age, the show did seem like it rebounded. Havne't checked it out in a while but it seems to have gotten into an era of still being watchable to good after a brief rennisance. At it's height, true poetry.

Rocket Power: Sam. As a kid it's because he reminded me of the awkward nerd who didn't quite fit in.. as an adult.. same. Where you have friends and you gel with them a bit but don't get them all the way. If anything I relate more now as the passage of time hits me like a truck and I slip further and further away from other people. Anyways Rocket Power is a show I have fond childhood memories of but cannot stomach as an adult. I do like the extreme sports focus as while cheesy as hell, the show put in genuine effort to get the sports right and throw in things like Luge among the staples like surfing, skating and snowboarding. It's also hard to hate a show with such a heavy hockey focus.. I think this show is where I first got an apprecation for the sport, then shorsey just blew it the hell up as a kid. Just realized I have not finished season 3.

So it's not ALL bad.. but both Otto and Twister can be insufferable, Otto plotting self centered schemes and both bullying sam. But the unique setting of a beach side town (for the time anyway, it's more common nowadays and thank god for that), great adult cast (With Ray being a responsible dad who is only a killjoy because his son is a jackass and a half and deserves to be struck down by parental authority), and Tito. Tito is the best.. well Sam's the best then tito. Actually they both can share the prize.

As Told by Ginger: Carl. He was my faviorite part as a kid and while I need to revisit the series honestly.. he still holds up as the best, as does hoodsy. Their a package deal. The series itself was great, one I want to revisit because it seems to really do teen drama right, has a fairly likeable cast, including a nicely complicated alpha bitch in Courntey who can look down on people and be a jerk.. but isn't agressively mean. The problems are down to earth and not super cut and dry on Ginger's side, while usually some weird kid nonsense on Carl's. It creates a really nice ballance too: the Carl Plots give some levity when the ginger stuff needs it, allowing the ginger stories to be more grounded. Carl isn't without his sadder moments, no question, but he gets to be weird and awesome while ginger rams head first into the awkwardness of puberty. Really the diffrence between being a child and a tween or teen right there.

Invader Zim: Zim himself has honestly grown on me with years. it's some of RSH' best work and he's such a loveable lunatic. As for the show I tried not to watch it as a kid. I liked room with a moose.. but wasn't a big fan of the overly sadistic tone (you may notice a pattern), how Dib always lost despite being likeable to younger me, and how the world just plains ucked. As an adult while I am VERY glad the revivial movie, which got me into the series, toned some of this down as some things like Gaz and Membrane's treatment of Dib was overdone, on seeing the ocasinal episode as an adult.. I'm reminded of how GOOD it is. The bleakness is easier to process when you get it's this over the top dumpster fire of a world. It dosen't ALWAYS work but ti makes it easier to actually root for Zim. That and poor boys parents/evil overlords clearly just hoped he'd die and they'd never hear from him again. Dib is more layered, being sympathetic yes (again thanks movie fo rpulling back on the sheer amount of shit piled on these boys) but also an egotist. He works best when Zim's either not super evil or Dib's own ego and need to be proven right over doing the right thing bites him in the ass. Or it's just so over the top you don't care. A solid show I wish i'd watched more but can totally understand why I didn't.

Action League Now: I.. I did this one. It's the Chief. The series is literally just the shorts from KaBlam. Which if you didn't know is totally fair and it is nice the show has it's own program if you just want to watch those shorts. Wish Life with Loopy got the same treatment.

The Fairly Odd Parents: Cosmo. I didn't think the answer would be this easy but in his heyday he was hilarous, charming and honestly in a new wish (where he's dialed back to the first few seasons) he is. Cleavlantis anybody? Fairly Odd Parents is great. It has a great premise, cast and bitching theme song and uses it really well. It went on far longer than it should've (The early poof revivial was alright but I hear it just got worse and worse), has a few age spots here and there and the characters outside of the main trio are pretty simple (and they later get boiled down to their core sterotypes), but it's got enough charm to still be watchable despite it's creator being a pile of anus. Worth a rewatch i'd say.

[lacetulle]

What was your favorite met gala gown?

This is a tough question and my answer is going to be a long one. Mostly because this was the second part of a two-parter exhibition. In America: A Lexicon of Fashion was the exhibit in September last year, and that particular gala seemed very boring. There wasn't a specific theme other than Americana, so it was underwhelming since it encompassed such a broad amount of time. So when they announced that this gala had a 'Gilded Glamour' theme, I was thrilled that they were trying to hone in on a specific time period. Unfortunately, they announced it not even a month ago. The amount of time that goes into planning these looks spans well beyond a month, so while I think the theme was grossly ignored, the theme announcement came way too late for designers and celebrities.

Also, fashion designers are who truly get the invites to the gala. Vogue does invite a handful of celebrities and they get to work with whatever designer they want, but when we see a crowd of celebrities with Moschino or Louis Vuitton or Prabal Gurung...the designers choose what the celebrity wears. So unless you're at a certain level of star power, sometimes you just get to show up and look out of place (I'm looking at you, Michael Kors and LV girls) because the designer gets to choose. With that said, here is my favorite. And some honorable mentions.

Blake Lively is my winner. I loved the homage to the Statue of Liberty and its patina effect. I actually didn't really like it when I first saw her on the carpet...the metallic bow gave me more of an '80s vibe. But after her reveal and the bow unfurled...I loved it. The tiara, the gloves, the designs on the dress. I loved it all and seemed like a love note to New York City. Blake is one of the ones who gets to envision an idea and talk to a designer and make it come to life. She really did have a big hand in designing this with Versace and you can tell by the amount of pride she had when breaking the dress elements down. And bonus points: the Statue of Liberty arrived in 1885, right in the middle of the gilded age time period.

Billie Eilish is my runner up. She took the theme to heart. I love that she asked Gucci to use upcycled materials. I don't have anything else to add because she's the only one who literally went with the theme and I applaud her.

Chloe Grace Moretz in Louis Vuitton. Even though I didn't like the LV girls as a whole, Chloe is the exception for me. I loved the nod to men's fashion in the gilded age and I wished more men actually went this route.

Rosalía in Givenchy. The glasses annoyed me. But I do love the dress. The nod to gigot sleeves are probably what make the look for me.

I also really loved Carey Mulligan's Schiaparelli dress. I think she flew under the radar because while the dress might be safe, I do love the nod to gilded equaling gold and gilded aged fashion. And while I'm surprised at how tame it is, considering Schiaparelli's looks can be way out there, I think it was a lovely mixture of gilded age fashion in a modern look.

And finally, the Cinderella story of the night: Genesis Suero wearing Lucia Rodriguez. Flawless. The dress fit the theme. And like so many people who stopped reading the theme after the word 'gilded' and just said, GOLD EVERYTHING...Genesis had a 2-for-1. A gorgeous golden gilded age dress.

I had high hopes for this gala and the theme, since historical shows are so popular right now. And I was even willing to overlook people disregarding the era of the theme and thinking it just meant they had to be dripping in gold. But I could not believe the amount of people who thought this theme included the roaring '20s or the golden age of Hollywood. Once again, the best Met Gala by far, was 2018's Heavenly Bodies, and I'm disappointed that more people didn't show up with high neck, bustles, gloves, and lace.

Thanks for asking! Sorry this turned into a novel. I guess I'm very passionate about the Met Gala.

[smolsized]

Ahhh so @sonneillonv asked me to elaborate on the Murringrove!Scream AU in the comments of that one post (which my notfis absolutely ate up and demolished so I didn’t get to see it until now— I’m so sorry😭😭)

And my elaboration was far too long to post in the comment section so it gets its own post (yay!)

• Given Eddie’s (not so favored) reputation around Hawkins it’s kind of a no-brainer that he’d have Steve helping him—it gives him a solid alibi when the police do come knocking (which they absolutely do because he’s of course always the prime suspect.)

• The timeline of this au would probably be somewhere between the summer of 1984 or 1985 since those years pretty much fit in with the golden age of serial killers timeline.

• And everyone has a motive, right? So what’s Eddie’s motive, you may ask? He definitely has more than one but I can only tell you one. He fucking hates Hawkins. That’s his motive—his hatred for the shitty small town he unfortunately calls home.

• But now this brings into question, what’s Steve’s motive? Why would he help Eddie do such horrendous things? Well, let’s just say he isn’t very fond of his King turned social outcast status governed by his fellow peers of Hawkins High. But his most dire motive, the main reason why he does what he does is the fact that he’s got a stupidly ridiculous crush on Eddie and a mountain of validation issues, so it’s no particular hardship keeping him out of prison and in his life.

• And Eddie definitely knows about Steve’s crush as well as validation issues and despite him totally reciprocating these feelings, he also uses them and plays them to his advantage to get what he wants.

• Eddie and Steve are more astute than they let on. They calculate their next moves precisely, and choose their victims with precision. They’re careful about fraternizing with one another in public, they even make it sort of like a game to act like they despise each other in front of others.

• Now where does Billy come in, you may be wondering. Well it’s simple, he gets Eddie’s attention.

• Billy is the one who dethroned Steve and took over the reigns as “King of Hawkins High” and even though Steve wasn’t particularly happy over it—he simply didn’t care all that much over it. After all, his motives lied solely in what or who Eddie wanted.

• And it isn’t until Eddie crosses paths with Billy himself (who most likely calls him a freak or something equally offensive at some point and certainly makes an impression) that he takes an interest in him and plants the idea in Steve’s mind—making Billy their next target.

• Eddie likes to do the killing, likes the thrill that wearing the mask gives him and so more often than not Steve is the one who makes the calls but you see, Billy is special. And so Eddie wants, for just this one time, them both to do it together.

• It’s risky and has the potential to blow their whole operation if the police discover there’s more than one killer on their hands—it would put them at a disadvantage, make the likelihood of getting caught higher. But Eddie is a bit self righteous and believes that Steve truly deserves this revenge, that they both do. And so it’s decided.

• They spend weeks planning it, nearly a month. They trail Billy at every chance they get, following him around and memorizing his schedule. It’s the longest they’ve ever spent on one person.

• They learn about the things Billy likes— working out, cars, heavy metal, rock, sex, and some of the things he doesn’t—caring for his younger sister, school, the arcade, etc. All of this is important in Eddie’s mind, because they’ll use it against him all the same.

• When the night comes and their opportunity finally presents itself, Eddie is hesitant. After nearly a month of stalking, watching, and silently observing from afar he finds that Billy Hargrove is particularly… interesting to him. That in the time spent learning about his victim he has gotten a little…obsessed with him. And he sees it reflected in Steve’s eyes too, the flicker of interest and curiosity. They don’t want to kill him anymore, no, no, he’s far too special for that. Killing him would would mean that it would all be over and so soon? No, Eddie can’t have that. He wants to draw this out, wants to stretch whatever this is thin and taut until there’s nothing left of it. He wants to break Billy Hargrove.

• Eddie and Steve devise a new plan that night, a plan to break Billy Hargrove.

bonus content !!!

(ps, if you guys like my harringrove/murringrove edits you should check out my tiktok @alwaysharringrove 😉)

[rax-writes]

Amicable

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Willas Tyrell x Reader

Warnings: So disgustingly cute and fluffy that you might gag a little

Notes: I’ve been thinking recently that my dear Willas doesn’t get nearly enough love, and I wanted to help fix that. // Based on the prompt “How do you always manage to look so captivating?” from this list.

You were no stranger to love. More of an acquaintance though, really. You had seen it many times, as well as heard it described in songs, and read about it in books. But you had never personally met love. Truthfully, you didn’t think you ever would.

You’d been told from a young age that your husband would be chosen on the grounds of whoever would provide the most beneficial alliance for your family. In other words, you wouldn’t marry for love; you’d marry for political reasons. Because of this, you’d long ago come to terms with the fact that you’d most likely never find love. Deep down, however, you craved it more than anything in the world.

Your dreams were filled with fantasies of a man who was gentle, kind, and intelligent. Someone you could hold invigorating conversations with, someone who cared about you. Someone who loved you more than anything, as the songs and stories described.

Yet all the proposals you received were from men who were loud, brash, and dull as could be. They all seemed to think that you’d fall head over heels for them the moment they flashed a smile at you, or if they won a tourney in your honor. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with them, and you vehemently opposed each proposal.

The pressure on you from your parents to agree to a match was steadily increasing with each proposal you rejected. Their insistence was the only reason you agreed to meet the heir to Highgarden, but you assumed that you’d dislike him just as much as all the rest. You knew that you’d likely have to marry him regardless of whether or not you were fond of him, because your pool of suitors was almost entirely depleted.

The absolute last thing you ever expected was to fall fast in love with Lord Willas Tyrell – but it was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You had been less than thrilled about meeting – and ultimately, potentially marrying – Willas, but you went along with it, as you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Your mother tried to compensate for your lack of enthusiasm by being extra cheery that day, but it had no effect on you.

When you entered the courtyard of Highgarden, you were instantly overwhelmed by the staggering number of flowers. Every color imaginable was exhibited by every type of flower imaginable in that garden, all combining to create a lovely floral aroma. Vines climbed up the surrounding walls of the castle, and birds sung happily atop the trees. It was a few minutes before you returned your eyes to the people around you, and when you did, your gaze instantly fell upon Lord Willas.

All of the air left your lungs the moment you locked eyes with him. He was far more handsome than you had ever anticipated, with a mass of beautiful brown curls atop his head, and a warm smile. You had been told that he had a crippled leg due to a tourney accident as a boy, and that he was a good man, and far more astute than the other men you’d met – but no one had mentioned that he was so attractive.

You were so busy staring at him that you nearly ran into your mother, whom you’d been walking behind, as she stopped once she reached the table where Willas and his company stood. You didn’t even hear your mother introduce you, but seeing her give a slight inclination of her head as a greeting managed to break you from your trance, and you followed suit.

After taking a seat at the ornately carved wooden table at the center of the courtyard, began the obligatory friendly chatter, followed by discussion of marriage arrangements between your mother, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Lady Olenna. You did your best to pay attention, although you mainly remained silent. You were primarily occupied by attempting to steal glances at Willas, but each time you did, you quickly looked away after finding that he was already looking at you, that same warm smile on his lips.

Once their discussions died down, they left you alone with Willas, so that the two of you could have the opportunity to talk privately. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, before Willas became the first to speak, a very serious expression on his face.

“I suppose this is where I should attempt to smooth-talk you into agreeing to marry me. I’m not very good at smooth-talking, so I won’t bother. I will say this: I know that I’m not any woman’s ideal husband. No woman dreams of marrying a cripple, who spends half his time with his nose in a book, and the other half with his animals. I’m not some well-known, handsome knight like my brother Loras, and I’m not a skilled swordsman like my brother Garlan. Those are attributes that most women hope for in a husband, and although I am none of those things, I like to think of myself as a good man. I hope that fact is enough to persuade you to at least consider the proposal.”

You allowed his words to sink in before responding. Truthfully, you wanted to laugh, but you knew that he would likely take it the wrong way.

“You consider yourself to be the last man that any woman would wish to marry, yet you’re the very man I’ve dreamed of since I was a child,” you began, and Willas’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “I’ve had countless proposals from men who fit the description of what you believe to be a woman’s ‘ideal man,’ and I disliked every one of them. I’ve always wanted a husband who is kind and intelligent. Someone who describes themselves as a good man, who often has his nose in a book, seems to be exactly what I’ve always wanted.”

Willas’s smile returned as he let out a laugh, and you found yourself momentarily admiring the way his smile lit up his golden brown eyes.

“Well, you certainly seem to be the type of woman I’ve always wanted as well: beautiful, with a kind heart and horrible eyesight,” he joked, and you laughed lightly as you shook your head in disagreement.

The conversation flowed easily from there, and you found yourself completely losing track of time. It seemed that only a half hour or so had gone by, but when your mother and the others returned, they noted that several hours had passed. The grin on your mother’s face as she saw how much you’d been enjoying your visit with Willas was somewhere between overjoyed and relieved.

“It seems that we’ve finally discovered a man whose proposal you will accept,” she remarked, hope filling her voice.

You glanced at Willas, and the two of you shared a smile before you said, “Yes, it seems we have.”

-----

Years later, you found yourself looking down upon that same courtyard, in which three children were playing a game of tag. Your spot on the third floor above gave you an excellent view. Their jubilant laughter filled the air as they chased one another through the ornate garden. You were so busy watching them that you didn’t hear your husband walk up behind you.

“How do you always manage to look so captivating?” Willas inquired, leaning on the window ledge beside you. You smiled, feeling your cheeks and ears burning slightly.

“Even after eight years, you still manage to make me blush,” you said, and he only grinned before kissing your temple and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You rested your head on his shoulder, and both of you admired your children.

“They’re certainly enjoying themselves,” Willas observed, just as the eldest, your son, screamed in mock agony when his younger sister tagged him – after he slowed down to allow her to do so – before she sprinted in the opposite direction, as fast as her three-year-old legs could take her.

“Have you any idea how maddening it is to have gone through the struggles of carrying and birthing three children, only for each of them to look like a replica of their father?” you teased, looking down at the three mops of curls weaving between the rows of flowers, and Willas chuckled.

“They all have your personality, though. And I’ve always thought the youngest resembles you more than me, albeit with my hair,” Willas countered, and placed another kiss on your temple, squeezing you gently with the arm around your shoulders. “It’s moments like these that I’m reminded that I’m the luckiest man in the world. I have a beautiful wife, and three perfect children. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“What about a fourth?” you asked softly, glancing at Willas from the corner of your eye.

He looked as though he nearly gave himself whiplash from turning to look at you so quickly, his eyebrows raised so high that his forehead wrinkled slightly.

“Are you…?”

You nodded, and he let out a joyful shout before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Three perfect children, and counting,” Willas corrected, laughing happily. He pulled away from you so that he could cradle your face in his hands, those golden brown eyes you fell for so long ago shining as the sunlight hit is face. “I love you – more than you’ll ever know.”

“And I love you more.”

-------

@whoabrekker​ @billy-batson @v-writings @pizzaplanethq @myfriendmagislit 

[randomnameless]

It seems so strange to me that IS went the "fun obviuosly non-canon fanservise game" for warriors and did "wow new lore just ropped let's make a mess out of already messy 3H game" for 3nopes. Was Warriors sales so bad they need a differet strategy? They realized that 3H fanbase doesn't care at all about pevious entries in the series? I've seen somebody talking about how 3nopes is the most plitics in FE game, like Jugral who?

I'm not sure about it -

Of course we have devoted people who most likely only played FE16 and have a very surface reading of the previous games, who suddenly start to misinterpret everything and, as you pointed out, start to call FE16 the most political in a franchise with Tellius and Jugdral...

Or very devoted people who played the other games and, in bad faith, are warping their message to fit with their perceived canon of FE16 (dragons bad in Archanea for instance).

And if they made an all stars warrior game (not like the first one, obviously) I don't think those devoted persons would play a game where you can use Siggy to destroy mooks.

IDK what happened with FE16, but there are clues all around that maybe the devs wanted to make more DLC, but it never happened - because of Covid, or because of something else - so all those assets and "unused" or "ready for the DLC" lore were here, waiting to be used. Why not make a warrior game, since the engine was already there?

Add the hype that made people buy Age of Calamity (a "canon" story about Link'n'Zelda'n'Garon!) and 3 Nopes is a safe choice, Fodlan is FE's golden child (much like Fates was at the time of the first FEW?) so it will sell, add to that the promise of a "different story that could be canon if you want to eat watermelons in winter" and "uwu meet the students with new designs!!" and it was supposed to be perfect!

But then player pandering striked hard, the lords cannot be their best selves without Billy, Clout is Clout'd, Supreme Leader becomes Supreme Puppet and Dimitri is still lost about what he wants to do with his life.

People were starved for new lore for Fodlan since the game was unfinished and never released the promised DLCs, so they banked on it to make this and...

Well.

I'll only take 5 sesame seeds on 3 Nopes's burger, but the rest I can safely leave it on my plate.

And idk about the real sales, but on some social networks, the outcry about the leaked plot (and Clout) was so terrible that apparently people refused to buy the game?? Rhea returning in the freezer and Billy never appearing disappointed some people who might have wanted to buy the game for them, and just don't want anymore.

Coupled with Clout and Supreme Puppet - the "plot" of the game, the thing that is supposed to be nigh useless in a Musou Game is so bad that people don't want to buy it anymore.

I won't say it's a good or a bad thing (maybe they were just on the fence) but for sure, I'm sure they could have made more money if they sold it as a "lol fanservice" game like in the first Musou, instead of showering their previous avatar with praise by writing how sad are the uwu students without them (save for Rhea, who thrives when she's not relegated to uwu'ing about Billy).

[sl-walker]

All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again.  Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size.  So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats.  He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy.  But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model.  Maybe in another ten years, kiddo.  Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no.  LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it.  As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point.  I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it.  He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that.  I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam!  He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked.  College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character.  Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there.  Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand.  Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts-  He’s locked in.  Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can.  Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue.  It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that.  You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes.  Except, not his underwear.  Because that’s nasty.  LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff.  Go incognito.  Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after.  Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to.  It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD  I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that!  Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity.  The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there.  But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid.  It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot.  You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is.  How complete it is.  How genuinely funny it is.  It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero.  LOL!  I enjoyed sharing it with you.

[avintagekiss24]

let someone see right through > bucky barnes

|| pairing: Bucky Barnes x black!reader

|| rating: explicit

|| word count: 4446

|| warnings: drinking, implied mention of death, past infidelity, smut, sex, a little bit of angst, oral sex (female receiving)

|| summary: two strangers meet in a bar on their birthday.

|| challenge: @sherrybaby14 prompt challenge - The reader and bucky share a birthday and have some intense birthday sex.

|| challenge: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan star’s follower challenge - Cafune: the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo B1: Kink- One Night Stand

|| link: ao3

|| note: i did not realize that when i signed up for sherry’s challenge that it would fit some many other things I’m working on, lol. This was inspired by so many things... seb’s endings, beginnings movie, billie eilish’s listen before i go and i love you (stole a line for the title), the prompt itself... so many emotions, lol. hope you guys enjoy.

You move into the packed bar from the street, instantly having to curve your body to slide through a dense group of people. You steadily pick your way to the bar and by the grace of God, find an empty seat next to a well dressed stranger. You smile absentmindedly at him as you plop down, turning your phone over on the bar to block the barrage of incoming text messages and wiggle your fingers towards the bartender.

“Hi darlin’” the man smiles, winking at you, “What can I get ya?”

“Umm, a martini? Dry.”

He nods his head towards you, “You look young.” He smiles again, holding out his fingers.

You roll your eyes as a playful smile curls onto your lips and dig through your clutch, whipping out your ID, “Not that young, I’m sorry to say.”

He glances down at it before handing it back, “Happy birthday. This one’s on the house.”

You smile genuinely, accepting your ID back, “Thank you. That’s sweet.”

You let out a breath as you tuck your ID back in your purse, “I’m sorry,” you hear a voice say, making you snap your head towards it, “I don’t mean to get in your business, but, today’s your birthday?”

The man beside you smiles softly at you as he spins the tall glass of golden liquid between his hands. You can’t help but smile back. He’s handsome. His jaw is strong and covered in a light stubble, his eyes are big and blue; deep set. His hair is short and messy. It looks soft and you’ll be goddamned if you’re not a sucker for a soft haired man. What’s the word again? Fuck, you can practically hear it rolling off of Antonia’s tongue…

You shake your head quickly and cover the side of your face with your hand when you realize you’ve drifted off. You laugh at yourself and nod, “Yes, sorry. Yes, it is my birthday today. Sorry I - it’s been a long day.”

“That’s okay,” he answers, the smile still occupying his face, “It’s my birthday too.”

“No shit?” Your eyes light up as the smile widens on your face.

“No shit. Thirty eight.” He nods slowly, dropping his eyes back to the glass in front of him. 

“No shit!” You exclaim, turning your attention back to the bartender for a brief moment as he slides your martini in front of you, “Me too. I’m thirty eight today too. How funny.”

He turns back to you, a lopsided smirk on his face before he takes a sip of his beer, “You don’t look thirty eight.”

“Do you honestly think I’d admit to being thirty eight if I wasn’t telling God's honest truth?” You laugh, “You don’t look thirty eight either, to be perfectly honest.”

He shrugs as he chuckles and finishes off his beer before waving for another, “Women lie about their age all the time.”

“Yeah,” you agree, sipping your drink, “They do, but just a little tip for you here, they usually age down, not up.”

“Not necessarily,” he says, wagging his finger, “I’ve run into quite a few eighteen year olds that are suddenly twenty seven.”

You close your eyes and scrunch your face as vivid memories of your eighteen year old self rocket to the forefront of your mind, “Not gonna lie,” you laugh, “I used to do that.”

“See!” The friendly stranger smiles, pointing at you quickly before he dissolves into laughter again, “I believe you though, just this one time, I’ll, I’ll believe you.”

“Well, thank you.” You laugh, playing along with his sarcasm. You lift your glass towards him, “Cheers to that, huh? Two thirty somethings believing one another.”

The two of you clink your glasses together and each take a sip, your eyes lingering on one another. You shy away, dropping your head and tucking some of your loose curls behind your ear. You cover your smile with your palm as you rest your elbow against the bar and blink back at him, quite enjoying the fact that you have his attention. His smile grows at you, his eyes move around your face and down your down neck before he breaks the contact to take another taste of his beer. 

Your phone vibrates loudly against the old bar again, causing you to groan loudly. You pick it, your friend Antonia’s face lighting up the screen. 

“Antonia, please.” You say instantly as her thick Brazilian accent pours into your ear, “I’m fine. Yes! I’m fine… because I wanna be alone, okay?... okay, yes, fine… okay, I’ll call you in the morning… I promise!... Yes!... I’m hanging up now… Antonia, Antonia, I’m hanging up.”

You tap the little red button to end the call and roll your eyes, but still laugh a little, “God, she's the worst sometimes!”

“Worried about you?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Like I’m five years old or some shit.” 

He chuckles, still spinning his glass slowly, “May I ask why you’re alone on your birthday?” He asks after a few moments of silence, his voice and tone low and serious. 

“Mmm,” you hum, “By choice really. I just… I don’t know, I just wanted to be by myself today. Enjoy my own company for once, you know?”

He nods slowly, “I hear that.”

You watch him as he fumbles with his glass and picks at the small, white napkin underneath it. Your eyes fall to the leather jacket that covers a black polka dotted button up and then drift back to his profile, “And you?” You ask, “Why are you alone today?”

He pushes his balled fist into his cheek and rests his head against it as he gazes back at you. His eyes search yours, as if he’s wondering if he should really tell you or not. A sadness washes through them and you sit up a little, your lips parting as you inhale, “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiles, his eyes drifting from you, “My twin sister, Rebecca, she um…”

His voice trails off and you grab for his hand, holding it tight as you fight back the sudden emotion in your throat. You shake your head quickly, trying to push the wetness that has invaded your eyes away and let out a breath. You don’t even need to hear the rest to know it’s tragic, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Your voice is warm and soft, so soft that you’re not even sure that he heard you over all of the noise. You watch as his eyes fall to your hands, as your thumb slowly strokes the back of his hand, wanting to comfort him. He squeezes back. 

“I just like being alone today.” He whispers as he swallows hard.

“I hear that.”

Your eyes drop to your hands. You watch as he lifts them, the pads of his fingers sliding along yours. He flattens his palm against yours and presses your fingers together, smiling a little as his large hand nearly swallows yours. On any other occasion, this connection would be weird; but for some reason, you’re bonding with this stranger that shares your day - and fast. His sadness matches your own. It’s a connection that you haven’t felt or wanted to feel in a really, really long time.

“I lied,” you say softly, watching as he links your fingers together, “I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with my best friend last year on my birthday. I walked in on them.” You curl your fingers around his and press your thumb into his palm, “She texted me today, wishing me a happy birthday,” you laugh, “Isn’t that fucked up?”

He nods slowly, “That’s really fucked up.”

“She wanted to get together so we could talk and I just, I panicked. I didn’t want her showing up at my apartment so I just grabbed my jacket and walked here.”

He stares at you intently, his blue eyes piercing into you as you pour your heart out to him, “I’m sorry.”

You shrug and let out a breath through your nose, “It happens, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” he says softly, “Not to people like you.” 

You blink back at him as his words swirl around you. He lets his eyes roam over your face as you stare back at him. That lopsided grin appears on his face again and he releases your hand, only to press his index finger into the tip of your nose, “This is a cute nose.”

You scoff but let the giggles pour from your chest. You down the rest of your martini and ask for another, before rubbing your face with your hands, “What are the odds that two sad ass people would meet up at the same bar on their birthdays?”

“Divine intervention maybe.”

You laugh gently as your second martini is placed in front of you. You don’t pick it up, you just look at it for a second before turning your head back to this gentle man. You find him looking at you - licking his lips slowly, and just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat a little harder; a little faster. Your breath stays easy and gentle but your mind starts to race with thoughts that haven’t crossed it in a long while. 

You reach for your glass and sip it slowly, flicking your eyes up at him over the round rim. You set it down, a soft clink sounding at the delicate glass collides with the wood of the bar. You rest your head against your palm as you lean against the bar, a smile of your own spreading on your lips as you gape at the soft haired, sad thirty eight year old next to you. You grab his hand again and twist your fingers within his, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own. 

He presses his thumb into your palm and rubs it gently, bringing your hand to his face. He puts his lips against the backs of your fingers and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You lift your free hand and push it to his cheek, rubbing softly, letting the prickle of his short beard tickle your skin. He nuzzles into you and you’ve never wanted to take someone’s sadness away so bad. 

You tilt your head as you sweep your fingers over his chin, stroking gently as he relaxes into the touch of a pure stranger. It starts to click for you, right in that moment, as the two of you bond over the soft touches from one human to another. You never understood how this could happen, how you could meet someone in a bar and want to take them home. To want to ravish them and have them ravish you without knowing a damn thing other than the connection that the two of you built in an instant.

You’re the type to see forever in someone’s eyes - but that’s where you fucked up, isn’t it? Maybe it’s better to see just tonight in someone’s gaze.

“Two sad strangers.” You say softly.

He nods slowly again, “Maybe we were meant to save each other tonight.”

You take a breath, and then another, and another as you tilt your head in the opposite direction, staring at him all the while, “I’m starting to think that too.”

He tilts his head too, to match yours, and licks his lips again before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “You like being in love.”

You blink at him and swallow. He doesn’t form it as a question. He states it, like he knows it. Like he can smell it on you that you aren’t that girl - but that you desperately want to be for him. You need to move on - and he knows it. 

“I can love you for tonight if you want me too.” He answers himself, his voice gentle and low. 

You nod before you can really think about it. You stand and grab your phone and clutch from the bar, digging through the small gold purse to throw some cash down. You take one last taste of your drink before you grab his hand again, barely giving him time to pay for his own drinks. 

You push out into the New York night, a brisk, sharp, cold breeze smacking against your body. He throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his body, trying to shield you from the assault. He lets you guide him a few blocks towards your apartment in silence, shoving his hands in his pockets when you come to your building. You hold the door for him and head for the old elevator, waiting as he steps in before you shut the thin, metal scissor gate. 

You push the lever to the number of your floor and with a jolt, the two of you are hoisted up into the building. You stand on one side, he stands on the other, hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the opposite wall - his eyes on you all the while. You swallow hard as you place your hand to your chest, suddenly flush with heat under his intense gaze. 

He pushes away from the wall as the slow elevator climbs higher into the building. Your breath becomes audible as he moves into your space. He slides his palm along your cheek, slipping the tips of his fingers into the edges of your hair as his thumb sweeps along your bottom lip and chin. Your lips part as your eyes bounce between his. He flattens his thumb on your cheek again and pulls you into him, crashing his lips to yours with force. 

You moan when his tongue slips along the roof of your mouth. He pulls away just long enough to tilt his head before he dives back into you, bringing his other hand to your face to hold you. He pins you against the wall and pushes his knee between the two of yours as he kisses you hard and deep. He pulls away again, but stays away - his mouth hanging open, his breath rough, his cheeks red. 

You stare back at him as his fingers curl around the back of your neck. Your chest heaves as you bite your bottom lip, quick flashes of what was before playing before your eyes. Your boyfriend, the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips on yours - reminding you of him. His laughter rings in your ears, his eyes stare back into yours…

“Are you okay?” 

The words bring you back into the present, back into the elevator. Your ex is gone and you blink back at the man before you. His eyes are wide and wild as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, “Are you okay?” He asks again.

You nod quickly and lean into him, wanting him to help make you forget. You push your mouth against his, moaning again as the old memories fade and the sounds of your mouths bounce off of the walls of the old, rickety elevator. It comes to halt seconds later but neither one of you seem to notice. You push your chest into his as you press your fingers into his lower back, pulling him into you harder, harder, harder. 

His thigh is back between your legs as he nips at your jaw with his teeth, before pushing your head towards the ceiling with his fingers. You squeeze his leather jacket in your hands as you push your hips forward, rubbing your hot sex along his thigh as he nibbles and pecks at your exposed neck. You hiss loudly and let out a groan when he bites down into your flesh softly.

“God-” you breathe as he pulls your lower half into his. 

His hands drift up your sides to find your breasts. He kneads them gently, slowly, as he pushes you harder into the wall, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before it invades your wet mouth again. His lips move down your neck, along your collarbone, before they press into your cleavage through your shirt. He slides down to his knees, his lips trailing your body, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he goes.

He releases your hips to skim your bare legs with his fingertips, his light touch tickling your deprived skin as they skip along your limbs. He presses a hot kiss to the inside of your knee as you grip his shoulder and push forced, focused breaths out of your mouth. Within the blink of an eye, his face has disappeared underneath your skirt, his lips and nose pressing hard against the bundle of nerves at your center. 

You buck into his face as you hiss, biting down into your bottom lip. He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit, stroking it lightly through your underwear before he nuzzles face first into your heat. He takes a breath, a deep breath, and you shudder at the thought of him wanting your scent to fill him - to intoxicate him. 

You continue to push your hips into his face as his tongue pushes underneath your panties. Your body jerks at the sudden warmth and wetness his tongue provides - the soft friction - as he laps at your slit. You slam your back against the wall and let out a moan as the synapses in your body all start to fire, focusing your energy, electrifying your mind. 

The elevator starts to drop suddenly, and you slam your hand against the emergency stop button, halting it before it descends.

“Fuck,” you breathe heavily, “Sorry,” you call loudly to whoever called for the metal box, “Sorry, we’re- sorry.” 

You continue to mumble as you push on his shoulders, encouraging him to stand and move to the gate. You push it open and move off of it, your suitor close behind. You feel his chest against your back as you fumble with your keys, nearly dropping them when his fingers curve around your hip. You slam your key into the lock and twist it as he tightens his grip, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin. The door pops open and with a push of his hand, it swings and crashes into the wall with a loud thud before it starts to swing back closed. 

He pushes you forward, keeping his hand around your waist as the two of you cross through the threshold. He shuts the door with his foot and spins you around before wrapping his arms around your waist again. You drop your keys, your purse, your phone to the floor as you throw your arms around his neck and allow him to pick you right off of your feet. You press your hands into the side of his face as you kiss him again, smacking your lips against his as you steal his breath.

He holds you up with his sheer strength, your boot clad feet dangling before you wrap them around his waist. Your hands push into his jacket, stripping it from him, pushing it right off of his shoulders. You start pulling at his shirt, untucking it from his tight, black jeans before your fingers begin to pry at the buttons. Within seconds, his shirt is crumpled on this floor with his jacket, his bare, sculpted chest pressed against yours as he lays you down on the floor. 

He leans over you, holding himself up with one hand as the other pulls at your white top. He pulls it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind the two of you before he rucks your loose skirt up your waist. His fingernails scrape at your hips and thighs as he pulls your thong down your legs. You fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans, yanking it down before you push your hands underneath the denim, gripping his ass in your hands. 

He works the thick material down to his thighs before he falls on top of you, crushing his body to yours, pinning you to the floor. He encases your head in his hands as you pull his face back down to yours and kiss him again as he slams into you. You inhale deeply and slam your eyes shut as he fucks into you again, your body sliding up the wood floor. He flattens his mouth to yours and you take the opportunity to bite his bottom lip as his nose presses against yours -  his hips grinding and pushing into yours. 

You reach down and palm his ass, pushing your fingers into his warm, thick flesh as he fucks you on the floor in the hallway of your apartment. Your free hand moves into his hair, grabbing a fist full before you pull on it, his hot breath washing over your face. It is soft - his hair - just like you thought it’d be.

Cafuné - it comes to you suddenly; the word you couldn’t think of earlier. It echoes in your mind as your fingertips scratch at his scalp before you pull on his hair again. You can hear Antonia’s voice as she rambled on in her thick Spanish accent. I just love to… mmm, cafuné… how do you say in ingles? Fingers in the hair, eh? There is nothing better than that. 

You know what it means now. There really is nothing better than the feeling of his hair between your fingers; ethereal in this moment. You keep your hands in his hair and on his ass as he pushes his hips into yours, your muscles spreading for him. You’re nose to nose, mouth to mouth as you both grunt and groan into each other, swallowing each other's sounds as you breathe one another in. You stare into his eyes, his busy, big, blue eyes and he smiles back at you, and even laughs as he fucks into you. You laugh too - the joy, the freedom, spilling right out of you. 

He slides in and out of your wet muscles with ease as your hands grip his sides. Your fingers explore him as he ruts into you - up his back, into his hair, around his shoulders, along his biceps - then back to his ass. God, what an ass. You bite his chin as his hips get quicker, more frantic as the pressure begins to build between the two of you. 

Your legs start to shake, your toes curling as you quiver around his length. He works your breasts free of your thin bra and sucks one into his mouth, his tongue circling and flicking your nipple. You dig your nails into his skin as he pushes into you, his cock tickling the deepest part of you. He tugs at your nipple with his teeth before he sucks on it again - groaning into your skin all the while. 

You come hard. Your hips jerk up into his as they continue to pump into you. You bite down onto his shoulder, muffling the screams and squeals as your orgasm rips through your body. He grinds into you with all of his strength until he’s spilling into you, hot ribbons of his seed coating your walls as he spurts. 

You both drag in ragged breaths as you start to come down from the high you’ve made. He keeps his arms around you, encasing you, as he stares down at you. His mouth hangs, his eyes wander your face like he’s trying to etch it into his memory. He leans down and places his lips to yours in a chaste kiss; a soft kiss. Then he’s separated from you again, his eyes staring down into yours again.

Minutes have passed, maybe an hour - neither one of you are really sure. He’s slid off of you and lays on his side, his palm flat on the side of your face. Your leg is thrown over his hip, an arm strewn underneath his head as you stroke his long forearm. His black jeans are still pushed down over his ass as he buries his free hand into your hair. He brushes random strands of hair out of your face as he blinks at you, his eyes heavy as his thumb strokes your eyebrow. 

You lay there, just like that, all night. You both eventually drift off to sleep, corralled within each other's arms as the night turns into day. You breathe in deeply as you roll over onto your side, the sun breaking into your sleep state. You crack your eyes and find him there, his eyes already open, already on you. He smiles, and you do too. 

The two of you dress in silence. You offer him your bathroom as you wrap yourself in your silk robe. All the feelings that you thought you’d have after a night like that aren’t present, not even in the slightest. There’s no shame, no awkwardness - your mind and body, your spirit is free. Light. 

You follow him out to the elevator, your hands laced together during the short walk. He pulls the scissor gate and steps inside, letting you close it behind him. He leans forward and so do you, smiling and giggling softly as you kiss through the gate.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You smooth your hair away and laugh, “Nice to meet you.”

“Happy birthday, stranger.” He says, pushing the lever to the ground floor. 

“Happy birthday, stranger.” You whisper back, wiggling your fingers slowly as he’s pulled down the building, out of sight. 

----------

You move into the bar, pushing your way through the crowd as you fight to the bar. You’re not sure it always seems to be so busy on this particular day. 

“What can I get for you sweetie?” The bartender asks as soon as you approach.

“A martini please, dry.” You answer, a wide smile on your face.

“Can I get your ID really fast?”

“Of course,” you nod, digging through your purse, “It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles back at you, glancing down at the thin plastic card.

“Yeah,” a voice sounds behind you. You don’t even have to turn around, you just smile back at the bartender as your heart flutters and the memories of the year before flood your mind, “She’s thirty nine today. Can I get a beer please?”

“ID, sir?”

You shake your head, “No need,” you say, pointing towards Bucky as he wiggles up beside you, his hand slipping around your hips, “It’s his birthday too.”

He leans against the old bar, a smile on his face as his eyes link with yours. You’ve missed that grin of his, “Hello stranger.” 

[cockasinthebird]

Billy and Steve have been best friends since they were ten years old, when Billy moved to Hawkins, Indiana. They didn't exactly hit it off immediately, unless by “hit it off” you mean they fought a lot to start with, then they did, but eventually they formed a friendship over their shared hatred for their parents.

And around age 12 they had become inseparable. They joined baseball, but eventually switched to basket after a fight between Billy and his dad. They planned their schedules to have as many classes together as possible. They would stay up late and watch horror movies, then lie in bed scared to shit and unable to sleep. Sometimes they would ride their bikes out to one of the lakes and skip stones, whenever Billy's dad was in one of his “moods.”

And on occasions, they would still fight.

“Boys will be boys,” Mr Harrington would always say and shrug, paying more attention to the newspaper than his own son.

“If I ever hear again that you're out there causing shit like this again, you'll be out on the street, you hear me?!” Neil would shout and spit with a threatening finger, and not relent till Billy had uttered out, “Yes, sir.”

Yeah they were best friends. Until Steve became interested in girls, and girls became interested in Steve.

But it was fine, Billy would say to himself, Steve's just fooling around and having fun, they're young and stupid, they should enjoy it while they can.

And then, a week after Steve started dating Nancy, a fight broke out. One wrong word and Billy threw his fist at Steve, landing perfectly at the eye, sending Steve toppling to the floor. Soon there were bleeding noses, cracked lips and bruised knuckles.

Now they're sitting in front of the principals office, six feet apart at the ends of the waiting bench.

Steve holds a bag of ice to his black eye and leans against the wall, exhausted and still reeling from what had happened, honestly unsure of how it even started.

Billy's staring straight ahead, at the white wall opposite of them, his leg jumping and tapping a loud rhythm against the linoleum floor.

“What the fuck is your deal, Billy?” Steve's voice slurred a bit by his swollen lip.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Billy tries for nonchalant, but there's clear leftover anger in the edge of his tone.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, you shithead!” Steve turns to him and stares with his one open eye. “Why are you so angry lately?!”

And Billy straightens his back and knocks his head against the wall, turning his face away.

Steve scoots a bit closer. “Is it... is it something at home?” His voice is quick to soften when Billy doesn't respond. “You know you can always talk to me, right? We're best friends.” He scoots closer again.

“You wouldn't understand,” the quiver in his voice startling, and he shrugs defeated. “It's not about Neil, don't worry about it,” he huffs a joyless laugh.

“Billy, no matter what it is, you clearly need to get it off of your chest. You can't just go starting fights with me for no good reason, that's not healthy for anyone!” Steve tries for a smile but ow it hurts too much.

“Ok.” Billy blinks several times to hopefully beat away the tear that forms, then looks at Steve. “What if there is a good reason?”

“So something is wrong then?” And Steve scoots closer.

Billy chuckles and reopens the crack in his lip. “Maybe.”

“Then we fucking talk about it!” Steve gestures wildly with his free hand. “We always talk about it!”

“Mhm, but what if, hypothetically,” he points at Steve emphasize the hypothetically, “the issue is... between us? You and me?”

And Steve exhales hard, shoulders slumping and brow furrowed. “Assuming I know what hypothetically means, did I do something wrong?”

“No, Stevie,” Billy smiles wide and bloody, and looks away from where their gazes had been locked. “It's not you, you're King Steve, perfect and rich,” and he says it with such sincerity it's terrifying to himself.

“Then why are you punching me?” Steve laughs and smiles just as wide, damned be the pain.

“It's hard to explain, ok? I'm still trying to... decipher all of these thoughts I have.” Billy scratches the back of his head, fingers digging into those golden curls.

“Maybe I can help.” And Steve scoots closer till his hand on the bench nearly touches Billy's thigh.

“Sorry, pretty boy, it's not in any language that you understand.”

Billy turns to look at that bruised face, smiling at how Steve's beauty still shines through the drying blood and purple marks. Seeing Steve smiling back makes him so happy, so... angry. He knows exactly why, steals a quick glance at his lips before meeting his eye again. He knows that he wants to kiss those lips- to kiss Steve Harrington. He knows... but doesn't want to.

7 years of knowing each other. 5 years of being best friends. 2 years of being in love.

And now Steve is dating this doll of a perfect girl, Nancy Wheeler, all skinny with elegant curls and perfect skin and breasts and... plenty of other things Billy can't offer.

“Try me,” Steve says and smiles so softly it makes Billy weak in the knees.

No matter what, their friendship is doomed. Either he keeps fighting Steve, so full of spiteful venom and unjustified anger, or he... tells him the truth. Steve wouldn't ever go spreading around rumors about Billy, he knows that much, he trusts him, but maybe the truth is too much.

They say the truth will set you free, but free from what? Free for what? Is there anything left in Billy's life if Steve isn't there to enjoy this “freedom” with him?

“I...” he tries, but gets caught in the sickening feeling of his heart throwing itself against his ribs. “I get so angry, because...”

Steve's eye blown wide, staring and waiting as if he's about to make a scientific discovery. “Because what?”

Billy runs his hand over his mouth, leg still jumping and fidgeting, eyes unsure of whether they should meet Steve's gaze or look literally anywhere else.

“I get so angry, because I-” he stops abruptly as he can feel his tongue trying to lie right now.

Because I'm in love with Nancy Wheeler! No.

Because my car is in the shop and I miss it! No.

Because Max is being a little bitch and I just want to throw her into the quarry! No- well...

“Because I can't kiss you,” he utters without thinking, and feels the realization shoot him in the gut.

And the world has never been more silent. Earth stops spinning. Time freezes. Or maybe it's just Billy.

“What?” Steve asks in disbelief, dumbfounded, shocked. He doesn't blink.

“It... doesn't matter, Steve, just...” Billy rubs his forehead and covers his face, prepared to throw up all his intestines and fucking die.

“What do you mean?”

And Billy peeks out between his fingers at how Steve's face remains shocked, but not disgusted or terrified. “What do you mean?” he asks, all accusatory. “Didn't you hear me?”

“I did, but... Billy, what do you mean you can't kiss me? Do you- do you want to kiss me?” And somehow Steve manages to scoot closer, thighs pressed together now.

Freckles gets flooded with bright red, as Billy blushes from ear to ear at... everything. Steve's words, Steve's thigh, Steve's gaze, Steve's lips.

“Y-yeah...”

And Steve moves closer. Puts the ice down on the bench behind him, chest turned towards Billy, thighs warm together, and he brings a hand up to gently, cautiously, graze it against Billy's jaw, cups his cheek and ghosts his thumb over his chin. Noses less than a heart beat away.

Whispers, “Then kiss me.”

And there's no hesitation, no doubting anything after those words, Billy's mind a blank canvas, and when their lips meet for the first time, the white gets painted over with vivid images. Hopes and dreams and desires. He has kissed a lot of girls before, but none of that ever felt like... this. This is what destiny must taste like, what love must feel like.

There are no two puzzle pieces in the world that fit better together than Billy and Steve's lips.

When Steve leans in deeper, Billy brings up a hand to touch his face and runs his thumb over those two moles he's been admiring for years now. Both their faces hurt like hell during this, but it's a pain they're both be willing to endure for all of eternity, if it means they can remain this close.

Billy has never known a more satisfying bliss than this, and he misses it immediately when Steve pulls away to stand up.

“Come on,” Steve's voice hushed and inviting, as he offers his hand to Billy.

“Where are we going?” he asks and looks at the hand, well beyond tempted to just grab it and run away with him.

“Just... somewhere to talk.” Steve smiles warmly at him, cheeks flushed. “Alone.”

And Billy takes his hand.