#like how do they now that neil blows up a bridge in one of my wips?????

[someone-else-reading13]

second day that my local news keep talking about the Baltimore bridge that fell… i don’t live anywhere near the US, it doesn’t affect my country in the slightest… i’m convinced this is just the world making me think of my aftg fic ideas at this point

#like how do they now that neil blows up a bridge in one of my wips????? #we live in a simulation #or i’m going crazy #could be both #aftg #neil josten

[courtingchaos]

Concentrated Bliss

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: Local one trick pony wrote smut again, surprise surprise.

Warnings: blow job, talk of living in someone’s chest, swallowing

NSFW 18+ No Minors

Caught unawares lounging on his bed with a folded back magazine held over his face, eyes squinting in the dimming light at the article he’s been reading, he doesn’t hear the creak of the chair in the corner. Pleather rubbing against loose metal while you slink off of it like you’re made of putty. Feet pushed back when your knees hit the floor quietly and you drop onto your hands to crawl on all fours, shoulders dropped to keep your head out of his line of sight while you pick through the detritus on the floor, your approach silent and unannounced.

He shifts on the bed, a dropped knee that opens up his hips and creates the perfect divot for you to rest your ribcage in. “Did you know Motley Crue have a fucking Lear jet?” His head rolls side to side in disgust. “Assholes.”

Your low hum doesn’t register, instead he just keeps reading and scoffing, his foot bouncing to background noise in his head. It’s a broken rhythm that he taps out and if you aren’t mistaken you can almost sus out the drum beat to When Doves Cry. A soft rhythmic press of his tongue to the roof of his mouth confirms when you catch a piece of the bridge and you have to stifle your chuckle. It’s for naught though, his attention laser focused so that he doesn’t feel the dip of his mattress when you start crawling up.

“Heavy metal my ass!” The back of his fingers smack the rolled spine hard. “I don’t know why I waste my money on this shit sometimes.” He says, bringing it closer to his face to keep reading. You’re almost at your destination now, his zipper straining at the pull of his splayed legs beckoning you closer. It takes your hand sliding under his ass to plant yourself fully before he looks down finally.

“Oh.” A smile with dimples that look deeper in the fading sunset. “Hello. When’d you get here?” The magazine is forgotten over the side of his mattress, lost in all the other forgotten things behind him, that hand tucking behind his head while the other one lays soft on your cheek.

“I was stalking over here for a minute.”

“I was so engrossed in hating Vince Neil I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry.”

“No it’s okay.” Your jaw fits in the valley of his hip too well, the back of your head leaned against his propped up thigh. “I was trying to be sneaky.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Under your cheek you can feel the warm press under his jeans and the slowly growing heat of his attention. Nuzzling into rough cotton makes him let out a long breath that turns into a hiss when he sees you bare your teeth momentarily.

“Hey, hey gentle.” He tenses for a pinch through his pants but it doesn’t come, your teeth instead biting around a belt loop to pull at it like a dog with a toy.

“Help me out.” Is mumbled around fabric that you drool on a little bit before that hand on your face drifts to his button. You pull at the slack as the button slips free and his zipper inches down with your enthusiasm.

“What are you up to?” The smile in his voice betrays his knowledge of exactly what you’re doing.

“Looking for my keys.”

“Oh they’re like, way in there.” He snaps the waistband of his boxers before sliding that hand back along your cheek, calloused fingers catching along your hairline. “Might need to nose around a bit.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows gives him a view of the very top of your cleavage from under a worn and stretched out collar. Skin pressing against skin while you get comfortable and he knows how warm it is in there; soft when he dips his fingers between to explore and leaves a trail of goosebumps behind. Right now though he keeps stroking fingers through your hair and watching you through half lidded eyes as your fingers crawl up his pelvis to loop over the elastic band.

Pulling down reveals your first prize, a dark thatch of hair that you mimic his movements in, fingertips scratching lightly at slightly ticklish skin. The hand behind his head grips at the base of his skull, a flex of his forearm that you don’t notice just like his bottom lip getting consumed more and more. Teeth peak out between reddening lips as he chews, a roll of a tongue outward to wet them, almost as if he could taste you on the air.

Your sole focus is on him right now but not him. Not his face and his hands grappling for gentle purchase along your cheek and his own neck. Not his body that’s become flush under your frame, tacky in the joints that are still clothed, heat that rises from his chest and up his face to his ears. You’re focused on him in this other way that makes him feel bashful like he’s a kid again and fumbling around in the dark. It makes his toes curl in his socks and his thighs tense around your arms the slower you pull on his pants. Anxiousness ripples in his belly with every puff of air you huff out in private glee, the small smile lighting up your face the closer you get to undressing him making him taut.

You find delight in him and that makes him nervous. There’s no way you look forward to this but, “all day sometimes” as you’d previous stated and as always you aim to prove him wrong. He lifts his hips almost unconsciously when you tug harder and suddenly the air is cool against his overheated skin. You drag a fingertip from coarse hair to the base of him and drag it up the velvet soft skin, touch light and fixated as you run over the ridge of the head. His own nails dig into his scalp now, his lip left forgotten to hang with his jaw in a silent gasp.

You look up and he swears you’ve got a mouth full of teeth meant to tear and rend under that deep grin. Your eyes glint in the near dark and if you ate him alive right here tonight he’d go without a fight. A monster snuggles between his legs to paw at him and all he can do is melt into the mattress when you roll out your tongue. Just the very point of it licks a thin stripe back down to bush and before you can pull away he’s pressing a thumb to the flat of the muscle to feel it wiggle. It wraps around and sucks him in, runs along the ridges on the pad and you keep your eyes glued to his however hazy his vision gets.

He tries to say something but there were never any words there to begin with, just an open maw breathing heavy. Fixated on your mouth that still descends towards his cock even with his thumb still trapped between your teeth. He’s stuck under your hands that lay flat on his hips to hold him still and give you something to leverage yourself on. Your nose runs down the little bit of exposed thigh before the edge of your lip grazes his shaft and he pops his thumb free. A gasp felt more than heard and he feels drunk suddenly as that thumb finds its way into his own mouth as yours descends on him fully.

A blow job is a blow job is a blow job, but there’s something about you specifically that makes him whimper into his palm. He bites down on the thumb in his mouth that tastes like you and can’t take his eyes off your fingers digging into his naked hips. Short nails drag lightly like your lips do when you pull up and already his propped up thigh shakes. With every pass of your mouth the air feels colder on his wet skin and he feels a loss deep in his chest for something strange. He jokes about crawling into your ribs sometimes to set up a home and maybe this feels similar but there’s perversion in this urge. Something animal that ignites in his skull and drives him toward you and your roving mouth. That tongue that inches out ahead of your lips to taste and teeth that drag light yet dangerous across sensitive skin. Your lips hold him in place when you smile around your mouthful and flick your eyes up to assess your damage.

He thinks about bucking up, chasing the heat of you to sate that base need for more. He thinks about you sinking your teeth into him to leave your lovers mark on the inside of his thigh. When you dip your head again and swallow around the length of him his eyes roll back before he can finish his thought, hands sliding down to card through your hair. He doesn’t guide you, as if you needed it, he just needs to touch wherever he can. His nails scratch your scalp and you hum around his cock, a deep purr that has him gasping to his ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut. Your tongue slithers hot against him while your hand finds its way into his boxers and you’ve got him pinned under your pleasure.

It only takes a gentle squeeze before he’s trying to pull your head up, small whispered ‘hey’s’ that trail off when you pick up speed. Again you catch his blurring vision and he sees your determination to have him desperate and boneless and who is he to deny you what you’ve worked so hard for. He babbles in the mounting pressure ‘I love you’s’ and many ‘please please please’s’, whimpers as the coil tightens and snaps against your onslaught.

Knees collapse against you to hold you close as one hand gets tangled in the ends of your hair and the other blindly grabs at the pillow behind his head to pull it over his face. He breaths heavy and fast when you don’t slow down and when you keep swallowing around him and when your hands keep roaming into sensitive valleys to press and grope. His brain turns to vapor and his thoughts disappear, leaving only room for you and your blessed heat.

You know when he’s had enough and you string him along for just second more while his thighs shake around your shoulders. He only pushes the pillow off his face when it feels like his oxygen is getting thin and he gets that first glimpse of your face post reckoning. A self satisfied smirk and a run of your thumb along that reddened bottom lip. It sings to him in the full dark now and when he gets his strength back he’ll manhandle you up to his mouth to steal your kiss. For now though, “You are a wonder.” His voice cracks and you smile, nestling your head back into the valley of his hip. A light fingertip traces softening skin with a curious glance and a deeper grin than before.

“I do try.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #My Fic #My Work

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #2:

Neil Young's Re-ac-tor

Yeah, yeah, I know: I committed to doing Neil Young's studio albums in chronological order. And yes, I'm also very aware that writing about Re-ac-tor, Neil Young's sloppy train wreck of a record from 81, instead of the foundational masterpiece that is his second record, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, is deeply suspect.

But chronology and order have no place in a dollar bin: you never know what you are going to get, aside from sore knees and dirty fingers, when you get down on the floor and start rifling through a battered box of LP's. And so I'm afraid you have no business expecting anything different here in the Dollar Bin. I'm gonna write about all Neil's albums but I'm gonna do it in whatever order strikes my fancy each week.

And so it's time to talk about Re-ac-tor!

First, yeah, the record kinda sucks. Young seemingly had way more important things on his mind at this point, some of them worthy pursuits (caring for his young child with cerebral palsy) and some of them far less worthy (working on his dumpster fire of a movie, Human Highway). So yeah, let's start by acknowledging that this was perhaps his worst record to date in 81.

But it's also totally awesome! Let's count the ways.

First off, Re-ac-tor is the most boneheaded of all Neil Young's records. This is a big statement to make - he's got a few totally boneheaded records - but when it comes to Neil Young boneheaded is a good thing! Take the opening track, Opera Star. It's safe to say that any song which describes anyone as "born to rock" is not going to win a Pulitzer. But take a listen: I'd argue that Young was busy being silly for his own benefit - and ours. There's only two ways to listen to music like this by Young: you can laugh or cry. I fall off my chair laughing every time.

Young was genuinely striving to be a responsible father and husband at this phase in his life. Every backing vocal and nearly every lyric on the entire record sounds like he was blowing off steam by reliving life as a 14 year old.

There's something to be said for such an approach. 14 years earlier Dylan had been a good husband all day, then balanced things out by getting drunk with The Band all night in the Big Pink basement. And that lifestyle led to the incomparable Basement Tapes.

But he's Bob Dylan, and Bob can do some incredible stuff. Every time I've left my earnest job and family pursuits to spend a night in the desert with men and cans of pilsner, then discovered the next morning that somehow my shoes melted in the fire while I was still wearing them, I have routinely failed to make great art in the process.

So, did Neil pull a Bob on Re-ac-tor? Is it as good as The Basement Tapes? No sir. But boneheaded songs like Opera Star, T-Bone (which, as I mentioned in Shakey #1, is indeed entirely dedicated to describing one man's plethora of mashed potatoes) and Surfer Joe and Moe the Sleaze are so boneheaded that they make me happy. And what's better than being made happy?

And yet, the record also features one of the least boneheaded of all Young's songs on it. One of Neil's best concerts ever had occured four years before, a stand alone, solo show he described as that year's "World Tour". The show is full of important new songs that would come out on Rust Never Sleeps. But the best song of the night was one he held onto until Re-ac-tor. Take a listen to Shots from the show:

Nice huh? Now listen to how Neil and the boys repackage that sweet melody and dense imagery into a soundtrack for machine gun wielding cavemen in some 80's era video game:

Sure, the Commodore-64-level sound effects are silly and the drums wear me out, but Neil's singing and his gnarly guitar are packaged into a single sonic missile, and it's aimed right at my soul. Note that the wrap-things-up-sweetly bridge at the end of the earlier live solo version was ditched for the album take: Neil placed Shots as the last song on Re-ac-tor so as to insure that we'd wind up terrified and exhausted, wondering what all the giggling was about early on. Neil Young: he's always messing with you.

And we can't talk about the great elements of this record without making note of the packaging. Neil famously ditched Reprise Records after Re-ac-tor, citing frustrations about how they were failing to market him. I don't know what the hell he was complaining about: Re-ac-tor, and the equally hodgepodge and brilliant record that preceded it, Hawks and Doves, are both beautifully packaged, and that packaging seems focused solely on pleasing Neil (and, thereby, his most hardcore fans).

Surely no one in the art department talked him into putting the serenity prayer on the back cover but translating it into Latin; surely no one other than Young wanted to issue the album's single as a triangle or add inexplicable hyphens to the title; rather, Reprise just did every whimsical thing Young could think of so as to keep him happy. And they made it all look good in the process.

And these efforts paid off in the marketplace: Re-ac-tor is by far the easiest record of Neil's to find used. Tons of people bought it (and tons have since ditched it). You can't complain about your record company if there are millions of once-purchased copies clogging up Dollar Bins 40 years later. That's on you.

But Reprise's whole Please Neil campaign didn't work as intended: he left anyway.

I got my own copy 30+ years ago as a "hey, do you want this piece of crap I found in my house?" gift from my mom's friend. We're gonna go slightly incognito here and not use real names because what follows will be read by my millions of followers and the family in question may not wish to become as famous as my famous brother. So we'll call the woman in question Jane Austen, after my favorite author, and we'll call her husband Stephen Stills, after everyone's least favorite musician.

Why Jane Austen owned Re-ac-tor to begin with is a complete mystery. She gave me After the Goldrush and Sergeant Pepper, both on tape, the first Christmas I announced that I was into music (I did not understand either album on any level at that point; what 12 year old would?) so she was obviously cool and she liked Neil Young. But when she pawned her entire small record collection off on me a few years later, Re-ac-tor was the only Young record. Otherwise it was a lot of Waylon Jennings (I've Always Been Crazy was in the haul; someone put that on my list of records to write about!) and Barbara Streisand. Imagine Re-ac-tor as your only Neil Young record! What was the deal?

I've got a theory. In 81 Jane had a young child and was probably pregnant with her second kid. And her husband, Stephen Stills, was the world's biggest nutjob; in fact, he was a lot like the real Stephen Stills: he never had a proper job, he was a minor (less so than Stills) celebrity who thought he was God's gift to everyone around him and his professional/creative projects were totally bonkers. In that last instance, I guess he was a lot more like Neil himself, who is probably busy flying down the highway as we speak in his new moon powered Hummer.

I also suspect Stephen was high for most of my childhood. That makes him like Neil and Stills. I enjoyed being around his crazed enthusiasm about everything (we played a lot of Nintendo's Duck Hunter together), except when he was shouting, ranting drunk.

"Stephen" was (again, very mildly) famous for two ludicrous reasons. I'm going to tell you both of them and then you are not going to believe me. But I am not making this stuff up!

Number one: Stephen was the alleged inventor of the wet t-shirt competition. As in, they did not exist until he got drunk enough to invent them. Whether he actually deserved this claim to fame is unclear. But people believed him.

Number two: he definitely owned a patent for the world's biggest zipper.

I told you that you would not believe me!

Back to the wet t-shirt part. Wikipedia backs Stephen's story up, maybe. There's a SoCal skiiing filmmaker, who is not Stephen, who claimed responsibility for the idea in the early 70's. Everything about that guy and his claim basically matches up with the stories I heard from Stephen as a kid; maybe he worked for the guy, or maybe he was on hand to lead the macho action? Who knows. You decide.

But by the 80's Stephen really did own a patent for a giant zipper - stop laughing! - and he had pretty well documented (at the time) plans to put an entire iceberg inside a giant plastic bag - I'm serious, stop laughing while reading my very serious blog! - zip the bag up, haul it to Saudi Arabia, and then sell it to the highest bidder. You can't make stuff like this up! I'm no internet sleuth but here's a starting point if you want to get into the whole bizarre concept.

Here's one more classic story about "Stephen Stills" which has absolutely nothing to do with Re-ac-tor: at some point my parents had to make an emergency trip to the hospital at night (maybe it was my sister's birth? my grandfather's death? maybe there were kidney stones involved?) and the only person they could think of to come over at a moment's notice with Stephen. Well he took a break from his late night zippering and hustled on over, then promptly fell asleep in their bed. I was three or four and I came up to their room in my childlike way at some point in the night with needs. My 78 year old mother still practically falls out of her own chair laughing every time she recalls what I reported to her when she got home the next day:

"Mom, last night when I came up to your bed you were snoring super loud and wouldn't wake up and dad wasn't there and you looked just like Stephen Stills!"

I remember Stephen periodically appearing in the LA Times for profiles about his whole wacko giant zipper plan. I remember at one point he paid someone to write an entire novel, or maybe it was a screenplay, about him and his zipper saving a future, water-starved planet Earth. I'm surprised Neil Young didn't buy the rights for his sequel to Human Highway.

Suffice it to say that "Stephen Stills" never hauled an iceberg anywhere. He eventually went broke and became legitimately nuts. Happily, "Jane Austen" eventually dumped him. Maybe she did so because the zipper thing was going nowhere; maybe she did so because when she was nine months pregnant he brought home a copy of Re-ac-tor while, lit up a big doobie and then dropped the needle on Opera Star...

... Some things never change;

They say the way they are.

You were born to rock;

You'll never be an Opera Star...

#neil young #shakey sundays #giant zipper #stephen stills still sucks #Youtube

[bcw7817]

Sodor A Deeper Look

(Ulfstead Castle)

(Stephen and Millie are waiting at the station when Glynn arrives)

Glynn: The Earl said he wanted to see me

Millie: Us too.

Glynn: That means something's up.

Stephen: (Looking up) Where?

Glynn: No down here silly.

Stephen: How can something be up when it's down?

Glynn: I'll explain later. Look here comes The Earl

The Earl: Ah! Hello, engines. I have some great news! I have discovered a new engine!

Stephen: Where did you find this engine?

The Earl: An old standard gauge line buried under some rubble at the Crovan’s Gate Mining company.

(A whistle blows, and we cut to Glynn in a sign of shock.)

Glynn: No, it can't be!

(The engine puffs inside the castle. We see a box-shaped engine with the letter S&M, as well as a number 2 written on its sides. At first, the engine doesn’t speak, just staring at Glynn in a sign of shock until he begins to laugh, Glynn follows suit.)

???: Small world, isn’t it?

Glynn: Yes it is.

Stephen: You know this engine?

Glynn: Yes, I do. This is Neil. He's an old friend of mine before the North Western Railway formed

Millie: He looks like a narrow-gauge engine.

Neil:(chuckling) Oh goodness no. I may have worked with young Skarloey and Rheneus over a century ago, but I’m not a narrow gauge engine.

Millie: Goodness me! I knew they were old, but not that old!

(That night, at the sheds Millie Stephen and Glynn were resting in the sheds when Neil arrives, Stephen and Millie eye the foreign engine with eyes of curiosity)

Millie: Stephen and I were speaking, and we would like to know about your life before you were dug up.

Neil: I don’t see why not.

Neil: I was built in 1861 alongside my two brothers. My older brother Clive had trust issues, he was also very snarky, rude, and always able to find the worst in any given situation. My younger brother Matthew was always afraid of the worst-case scenario but nonetheless had a heart of gold. We were built to work on the Sodor and Mainland Railway. Upon its opening it ran from Crovan's Gate to Kirk Ronan with plans to expand beyond Sodor to the Mainland hence the name We each arrived at the Kirk Ronan Harbor due to there not being a bridge at the time. We worked peacefully together under our controller, Mr. Mack, he was manager of both the S&M railway and the Skarloey railway and we all respected him, even Clive who was very hard to please. For almost a decade we lived a practically peaceful life, until 1869 when a rumour began to spread. Unfortunately, the rumours turned out to be true.

Neil: Oi! Lads, have you heard the news?

Clive: Oh great, what is it this time Neil?

Neil: It's…

Mr.Mack: Listen up, you lot! I have some news for you! A new railway is opening next year that will start at Wellsworth and go beyond Brendam for a dockyard!

Clive: I knew working on such a small line on an island this size wouldn’t be peaceful for long!

Matthew: This might put us out of business!

Mr.Mack: Please quiet down! I have devised a plan! Their main contract is the docks so--

Clive: So if we expand our harbour, then we might put them out of business. Ingenious!

Mr.Mack: Precariously Clive!

Neil: That's no plan! That's a scheme!

Mr.Mack: If a scheme is what's necessary at this time then it must be done. Now hush! You should think before you speak back to your controller. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going home.

Neil: My opinion made no difference on the matter. They still went through with the scheme. Once the engines arrived, trouble began to brew, and unfortunately, Clive was the first to meet one of these engines.

Colin: Hello, I’m Colin. Who are you?

Clive: Shut up!

Colin: Pardon?

Clive: I said shut it! You're trying to steal our work! Well, I have news for you, inchworm! Your plan is going to fail! Now, get out of my territory! This isn't your place to crawl around!

Coin: No need to be rude. I was only trying to be friendly.

Neil: Clive's harsh words were heard throughout the yard and workmen began to echo what he said and when I had some very stern words for Clive that night in the sheds that night that I would prefer not to say.

Clive: Neil, let me tell you this. Times are changing. The world is changing. The world has moved on from us. That engine was larger, more modern and more powerful. I had the right to treat him how I did.

Matthew: I agree with Clive. If they succeed, that will put us out of business, but maybe we can be a bit more kind to them.

Clive: There is no such thing as kindness in this world. Everyone is only looking out for themselves.

Neil: Time passed. I was to deliver slate to Wellsworth for construction. where another engine was waiting. I asked the engine their name

???: What’s it to you?

Neil: I’m sorry for the way my older brother treated you.

???: That wasn't me he was being rude to. That was one of my colleagues. I never met any S&M engines until now, so I assumed you were all the same.

Neil: Oh dear, where are my manners? My name is Neil. Who are you?

Lille: Lillie. Nice to meet you. So, would you mind telling me why your brother is the way he is?

Neil: Clive was built first, so naturally, his trial was held first. However, men had bent the tracks the night before. Naturally, he crashed and although the damage wasn't major repairs were mandatory but they ignored his pleas more focused on us then him.

Lillie’s driver: Lillie, you need to get moving. You are two minutes behind schedule.

Lillie: Oh dear! Thanks, Neil. It was nice talking to you.

Neil: What I didn't realize was that Clive was nearby and listening to the conversation.

(S&M Sheds)

Clive: What the hell is wrong with you?

Matthew: Jesus?! Clive, what's wrong with you?!

Clive: What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with him?!

Matthew: What happened?

Mr.Mack: He engaged with the enemy!!

Clive: He told one of them about my test crash!

Mr. Mack: You should be ashamed of yourself, Neil!!

Neil: I know, sir. I am, sir.

Mr.Mack: Good, now that that's out of the way, I have some news to share! Our Harbor extension has been completed. However, these actions have put us in some minor debt and if this. All we can do now is hope that the extension proves profitable. Because if it doesn't we might as well sink into that harbour.

Neil: The expansion was able to prove its merit. However, the expansion combined with the contracts we already had caused difficulty for us to balance. To compensate for it we each were assigned a one contract to lighten the workload.

Mr. Mack: Clive brings trains to and from the harbour while also shunting in the harbour, Neil brings the slate from the mining company at Crovan's Gate down to the harbour, and Mathew, you'll handle the passenger services! Any objections?!

The S&M Engine: No, Sir!

Neil: We all adjusted to our new lives rather quickly. We never saw each other as often. Due to us deciding to spend the night at the sheds with our new residents for convenience's sake. A month passed since my encounter with Lillie, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Another W&S engine arrived at Crovan's Gate; he was to bring empty trucks to Crovan's Gate and replace them with slate trucks. He was larger and more powerful than Lillie or Colin. He was leaving when...

Matthew: (Applying his brakes) Lookout!

(the two engines braked as hard as they could and they stopped just in time as they were inches away from each other's buffers

???: Oh, I’m sorry. Please go ahead.

Matthew: No. No. I insist you go first. I'm in your way.

Neil: They kindly bantered back and forth, I sat in the yard watching with a grin until Matthew's passengers began to complain so the W&S engine pulled back up. For Matthew to arrive at the platform

Matthew: Thank you…

Adam: Adam.

Matthew: Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Matthew.

Neil: Well, well, well. How kind of you, Matthew.

Matthew: Don’t startle me like that! And I wasn’t trying to be kind. I was only acting as I always do.

Neil: Adam came to Crovan’s Gate more often than other W&S engines; his presence in the yard was a delight, saying or doing what was on his mind. At this point, each of us S&M engines had spoken to our W&S counterpart. But little did we know what was going on in the northwest.

(The scene fades back to the present Glynn smiled while Millie and Stephen were in shock.)

Millie: Go on. Tell us what happened next.

Glynn:(Laughing) All in good time, Millie. For now (Glynn yawns) let's get some sleep.

#the railway series #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends

[strangerthings4theories]

Billy Is A Christ Figure, a.k.a. He Will Die And RISE AGAIN

This isn’t a radical statement. Literature and film teem with “Christ figures” who symbolically (or literally) die and rise again. Billy is just one of the Duffers’ additions to a long, venerated tradition.

Let’s dive in, shall we?

>>Billy’s story lines up with the Christ figure concept.

I really like how Christopher Lansdown explains it:

Christ figures in literature are - when done well - characters who relate to the rest of the story as Christ related to the world. [Salient features include...]

1. Saves the world from the effects of the misuse of free will. 2. Has a dual-nature where one of these natures is what allows #1. 3. Bridges the gap, in his person, between the two natures. 4. Sacrifices himself willingly for the sake of the world. 5. In sacrificing himself, takes the problems of the world into him and conquers them, thus saving the world from them. 6. Comes back from the sacrifice because of his other nature.

Billy’s storyline hits several of these notes already. First, he saves the world by sacrificing himself willingly. Second, he’s presented as having two natures: his corrupted monster-self (the bully in S2; the puppet of the Mind Flayer in S3) vs. his innocent child-self. (You could describe him as being human and divine too. I’ll get to that in another post.)

When he stands up to the Mind Flayer at Starcourt, he begins the process of integrating his two natures. That’s why he looks so childlike here: his innocent child-self is coming out for the first time in years.

All that’s left is for him to “come back from his sacrifice.”

>>The Duffers infuse Billy with Christ symbolism.

The most obvious example, imo, is the special necklace they gave him. The genius @aeon-of-neon​ figured out that his necklace is a Lady of the Pillar medallion - i.e., a depiction of Mother Mary with baby Jesus. 

On its own, the necklace tells an incredible story. It suggests Billy is symbolically the Christ child, and at some point his mother - symbolically the Virgin Mary - had the medallion blessed to protect her son. (I think we all recognize Neil wouldn’t give a shit about protecting Billy.)

The show reinforces that reading in subtle yet mind-blowing ways. In his last shot in S2, Billy is pictured in front of a Christmas tree. This associates him with the meaning of Christmas, which is the birth of a child who will save the world.

In the sauna in S3, Billy passes in front of a poster for the Hawkins Fourth of July parade. A lot of people have latched onto the “American” symbolism here (as they should - I’ll address that in another post). I’ve even seen people talk about the stars on the poster giving him a crown of thorns or saintly halo. But I haven’t seen anyone mention that the poster gives him a crown of stars like Mary, Queen of Heaven. 

"A great and wondrous sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth. Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crowns on his heads." (Revelation 12:1-3)

Combined with the necklace, this small detail suggests his mother, aka the Virgin Mary, is watching over him as he battles the Mind Flayer, aka the Dragon.

Now look at this screenshot again--

See how prominent his necklace is in the frame? That’s not an accident. The Duffers had to direct and light this shot just right to achieve the desired effect. If you look closely, Dacre is standing in an awkward, unnatural position. I can practically hear the Duffers saying, “Shoulders forward, Dacre... a little more... now tuck in your abdomen and push your chest out... that’s it!” All while they’re trying to avoid getting too much light on the necklace. It needs to be well-lit but not washed out.

All that work was for a good cause. The shot suggests Billy’s mother is with him in his moment of sacrifice. He’s just reclaimed her memory, and now he’s honoring it as he lays down his life for the world.

Yeah, it hurts :)))) but there’s more to cover...

...such as Billy’s crucifixion poses.

The crucifixion pose is common enough in film that it gets its own entry on TVTropes. The first sentence of the entry? “It’s very common for a character who just performed a Heroic Sacrifice to be lying with their arms outstretched like the crucified Jesus.” 

We see that with Billy multiple times.

In the sauna, El lifts Billy in the air right before she deals the “death blow.” He hangs there for a moment, arms outstretched. My inner Christian teenager thinks of John 3:14-15: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man [Jesus] be lifted up [on the cross], so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

To really drive the point home, the Duffers put Billy in the crucifixion pose AGAIN, at the moment of his actual death, while he shouts at the Devil. (The Mind Flayer is symbolically the Devil/Satan. Stick a pin in that, we’ll come back to it at another time.)

The Mind Flayer then kills Billy by impaling him (Christ being impaled by the spear, anyone?), and Billy falls to the ground, arms outstretched yet again.

Guess who else dies sacrificially... and gets Christ symbolism at his moment of death?

It’s less obvious with Hopper; he isn’t shown with his arms outstretched. Instead, the Duffers give the crucifixion pose to Joyce right before she deals the “death blow.” She is in the pose on Hopper’s behalf.

Take a screenshot at the right instant, and the beams of electricity shooting out of the “key” machine even form a cross behind her. 

(This scratches the surface of another subject: the STRONG PARALLELS between Hopper and Billy. Stick a pin in that, too... *sigh*)

Well, guess what. We already know Hopper’s coming back. David Harbour even compared his return to the resurrection of Gandalf, the Christ figure of the Lord of the Rings:

"Gandalf the Grey who fights the Balrog and then becomes Gandalf the White. It’s the idea of the resurrection of the character. And mythologically, Hopper, in a sense, had to change. I mean, you couldn’t go on the way he was going on. He has to resurrect in some way. So it was a great opportunity to do that. So we’ll see a very different guy going forwards. The same guy but in a different vein.”

"[He] had to change... [he] couldn’t go on the way he was going on...” Doesn’t that describe Billy exactly?

»»————-　✼　————-««

Ugh, there’s a lot here, guys. I haven’t even touched on all of Billy’s Christ symbolism yet. I’ll have to save the rest for another time.

Until then, I’ll leave you with this very interesting song from Billy’s official Spotify playlist...

Muthafucka I’m back From the dead I’m about To raise hell Out of my coma I’m ready to show ya That season of my life is done...

»»————-　✼　————-««

P.S., all of this explains why Dacre proposed the idea that Billy’s mom was literally a virgin. It’s batshit crazy and makes NO sense... unless he and the Duffers were discussing Christ imagery for Billy.

»»————-　✼　————-««

The “Billy Is Alive” Meta Series

For updates, follow the hashtag #billy is alive meta

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove is alive #billy hargrove meta #stranger things theory #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things analysis #stranger things meta #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #film analysis #chief jim hopper #hopper #jim hopper #billy is alive meta #christ symbolism #christ figures #ohbillyboy

[powercloud]

At The End of The Day

pairing: tsukishima kei × reader

wc: 2.4k

genre: fluff, pining!tsukki

warnings: timeskip tsukishima, ooc tsukishima maybe(?) He's just so in love with you okay :(

The night was getting colder, the sky already a pretty shade of black, and the moon hung over their heads with a smile. Tsukishima took this as a good sign as if the moon smiling is a green light to pursue his plan. He looks over to you, your eyes distant and looking straight ahead, you were bracing yourself under the blazer he lent you. The view was astonishing. Under you and him the city was busy, flashes of light twinkling brightly, almost nearly outshining the bright stars above. The breeze was noisy as well, blowing your and his hair. But the warmness of Tsukishima’s heart was enough not to completely freeze him over, he was more worried about you though. But after a few stolen, glances he figured you were all right. The rooftop was your favorite, you've gotten used to it.

It's been silent between the two of you. You always fill in the quiet with your antics and puns and dumb realizations, but Tsukki supposes that’s why he was oddly fond of you after a week of knowing you first year in high school.

It’s been years since he concluded he was in love with you. Specifically three, but if he ever mentions the exact number he feels like a hopeless idiot. If he told you about that, would you call him so? He’d never know unless he confesses.

Tsukishima tightens his grip on the metal railings, his knuckles turning white. He bites his lower lip, nearly making it bleed. He’s nervous, he’s scared but he’s willing to push through it. All for you.

Tsukishima steals yet another yearning glance at you, this time his head snaps forward when you caught him red-handed cheeks turn a bit red before he sniffs and got a hold of himself. You laugh gently at his uncharacteristic expression.

“Something bothering you?” you ask, taking one or two steps closer to him. Any more he’d explode.

“Nothing,” Tsukishima lies. And you know this because you always have this certain facial expression where you’re unsure of his answer; one well-defined eyebrow rise, the bridge of your nose scrunched slightly, and your lips on a pout. You always were adorable when you were sure he was lying.

“Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Sometimes Tsukki wishes you knew how close he held you in regard, how he won’t get upset if you push him further into questioning. Hell, he’d tell you the truth right away.

But you turn away, leaving him be and respecting his privacy, eyes back forward and thoughts miles away.

Tsukishima follows where you were looking, and he wonders what you were thinking. The future? The past? The inevitable fall of humanity and the universe?

Him?

Tsukishima would very much like to know if you’d thought of him. He won’t hesitate to tell you he’s thinking of you, too. Most days you never go away from his mind. He wants you to think of him right now as he’s thinking of you, too. But Tsukishima thinks that’s not the case. You never look so troubled when you were thinking of a person unless you worried.

Tsukishima nudges your elbow with his, and finally, he looks at you straight in the eyes, flushing lightly as always. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, his mouth in a straight line, seemingly uncaring.

“Nothing, just—” you sigh deeply, shoulders falling. Tsukki holds his breath, maybe it would be you that confesses? He always thought you liked him back. Tsukki waits as your gaze flutter from the city below then finally to his honeysuckle eyes. “I don’t know if I’d rather wake up in the middle of a war or the middle of a zombie apocalypse.”

He mentally slapped himself for assuming you’d be the first to say something sentimental.

Of course, he thought to himself disappointingly. On a daily, you weren’t even worried about important things like school or true love. You were thinking of choices you’d likely choose in a situation that would never happen, like the zombie apocalypse you mentioned.

You don’t think of me much, do you?

Tsukishima tries to hide his disdain. “I thought you said you had a plan when the zombies come.”

“Yeah, but I mean, like at the beginning of every zombie apocalypse movie, y’know. Like when they start growing in rapid numbers, and the panic rising out of people, the raging undead and their unquenchable thirst for human blood. As in the part where they just start flooding in.” you were very dramatic in using hand gestures. “I don’t know what I would do if that suddenly happened.

“That would never happen,” said Tsukki and you frown, and he smirks, always enjoying irking you. “Neil D. Tyson already said so.”

“Thank God. But still—if it could, what would you rather wake up in the middle of, Tsukki?” you ask him, leaning closer again and his heart palpates. “War or the apocalypse?”

He pretends he’s thinking hard, then he just shrugs nonchalantly, then you whine and tell him how he’s such a killjoy. If he were honest and cheesy, whatever situation he’d suddenly wake up to, Tsukishima wouldn’t hesitate to protect you in either one.

“Women can’t fight in a war, pick war,” Tsukki said, and he smirks again as you scoff and roll your eyes.

“You know how much I’m brave.” Oh, he knows alright. You were intensely afraid of heights, yet look where your favorite spot in the whole world is. “I wouldn’t think twice to enlist,” you said, chest puffed out. “’sides, it’s the 21st century, Tsukki, equality is much softer now. It's indulged..”

“And?” Tsukki encourages you to go on as it looked like you wanted to add something.

“War is worse than hell. I’m fine laying down my life for what’s right, but I’m not ok with children dying or starving, or widows crying over their dead husbands or wives, or old people going cripple. I don’t like seeing good people get hurt.”

God, you were always such a fucking wholehearted, good, kind, courageous, generous person. He loves you so fucking much it hurts to think you’d sacrifice your life for the people you don’t even know.

“Always such a martyr, aren’t you?” you punch Tsukishima on his shoulder. He only laughs at your feeble attempt to hurt him. When you push yourself away to frown again, Tsukki softens. “If you think those kinds of people don’t deserve to die you need to know that you don’t deserve it, too. Fuck dying for the country. Wars are bullshit.” Tsukki had to cut out the part where he’d say he’d want you to hide with him. Later, he tells himself, it's too early.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said.

“I have never been.”

“Shut up, jackass.”

“You first, dumbass.”

After a few petty insults are thrown at each other you both settle down with Tsukishima letting you win. He doesn’t care if you call him a salty bitch, as long as he gets to see you grin triumphantly after.

Then it was silent again. The wind was stronger this time. One blow and you gripped Tsukishima’s blazer and winced as you took the cold bite. Tsukishima wanted to wrap his arms around you to keep you warm, uncaring of the fact he was cold, too. Very. He had nothing else on besides his thick sweater, apparently not thick enough. Tsukishima wanted to lead you downstairs, back to the party which he’s sure has died down by now. It was nearly 2 in the morning.

But before you two could go he wanted to say something first. Confess before another perfect moment like this slips from his fingers. He looks at you, and you’re so gorgeous. Your hair is a perfect mess behind your head. Your cheeks are flushed, and you kept wetting your lips as the cold had dried them. The city lights shadowed perfectly on the half bottom of your face, the stars mirrored in your eyes. You were serene, too. Seemingly enjoying this time. This time with him.

It was either now or never.

“I love you,” he told you. Except he told the wind instead as another harsh blow blew on the rooftop. You and him wince simultaneously, but both for very different reasons. You hadn’t heard him, that was obvious, because you hadn’t as much reacted any differently. Tsukishima knows you weren’t pretending to not hear him either. Unlike him, you weren’t mean. You would even acknowledge the ignored person who tried to relay a message across a group with a curt nod, and an inviting smile—you listened, as Tsukishima was the reason for that person being reluctant in talking.

Tsukishima frowns, his heart falling. Above him, the smiling moon disappears behind a gray cloud, a red light. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night after all. Maybe no night was the night. But it would be stupid of him to give up after one try. Tsukishima would never forgive himself for letting you go so easily. He knows at the end of the day it’d always be you he loves. He knows he’ll follow his heart to you even though it would break sometimes.

Jesus, he thought. Love is frightening.

A few months later was another perfect moment to tell you Tsukishima’s true feelings. He had just come home from his night shift from the museum, coffee in his hands yet he was still tired and exhausted, but when he saw you sitting down in front of his apartment door, waiting, he smiles to himself.

Once you sensed him, you looked up from the floor you were sitting on, eyes huge and jade. Most people compare eyes to oceans or galaxies. Not your eyes though, they reminded Tsukishima of his favorite thing. Glancing down and his tiny plastic toy dinosaur, and then sliding further down to your green eyes. Tsukishima realized that’s probably why he felt so awake when he was with you. You were like a loud inspiring roar in the morning.

You had plans, you told him. There was a spot in the park, though you suppose it wasn’t even part of the park anymore. There was a forest, more natural than man-made, just beside the park. And when you were bored one day, you ventured through it and found the most amazing spot to view the sky. There were no outside noises, not another human has found it, you prided yourself in that. There were lots of pests and insects though, which was why you brought with you two huge blankets.

So there you two were, beneath the galaxy, feeling small and vulnerable to alien sight. But it was utterly beautiful.

The two of you lie on top of a small hill covered in grass and pretty flowers, there were trees around but it was a clearing where you and he were at. Looking up it was as if the sky was moving and the stars were burning bright. He held your hand shamelessly. And he thanked every God listening when you didn’t pull away, instead you wrapped it firmly as if you’d be taken by a UFO and he’d be your only grip to this Earth.

“Did you see that, Tsukki?” you asked, flabbergasted. You had to let go of his hand to prop yourself up and point to the violet sky. “I think I saw an alien ship!”

“They’re coming to get you,” Tsukishima said. Leaning on his elbow to snicker at you. “Their long-lost family.”

You punch him on his shoulders and he laughs. It’s been years but Tsukishima knows his saltiness isn’t going anywhere.

You lie down again, Tsukishima does the same but this time he can’t hold your hand, not when it's clasped with your other hand and laying on top of your stomach. He hides the fact he’s a tad bitter about that.

“Did you know,” you began, Tsukishima turns to you, intently listening because the stars have never captured him like the way it captured you anyway. What he felt about you, you felt in the infinite universe. Tsukishima’s fine being a close second. “Most people forget dinosaurs have ears because dinosaur ears don’t have bones.”

Tsukishima glares at you incredulously. First of all, how dare you question his lengthy knowledge about dinosaurs. Second, he knows for a fact that’s not true and that you stole it off a kid’s show you watch every fall.

“And that’s a rock fact!” you said, proud and overjoyed. But of what? You didn’t get to fool him successfully.

“No, it’s not, you idiot.” Tsukishima went his way to flick your forehead harshly. When he pulls his hand away you nearly bit off a finger.

Feral bitch, Tsukishima thought affectionately.

“Ok, fine, how about—” you trail off, a finger tapping on your chin, eyes darting from one dead star to another. “Most books on witchcraft tell you witches work naked.” Tsukishima knows which show you got this from off, too. “And that’s because most books on witchcraft are written by men.”

"Now, that I won’t deny.”

The two of you laughed lightly before looking back up again, heart alight. This time, Tsukishima stares at the stars, trying to find reason why you were so smitten with it as he was with you. He tries to find something in between the spaces of dead stars and see if there’s something like that in him, too. So that maybe you can love him as much as you loved the infinitesimal. He doesn’t find anything, unfortunately, he’s distracted by your harmonious humming.

“Tsukki,” his heart skips a beat. You say his name so magically it's hypnotic. He didn’t think he’d fall in love further just by the way you say his name.

“Yeah, y/n?” he cringes at how soft he sounded.

He looks at you, glazes over your direction to see you already looking at him. And his body is on fire. There was something different with you, with the way you look back at him. Something entirely different.

Finally, Tsukishima thought, staring deeper into your glossy eyes, you’re looking at me like I’m something you love, like I put the stars in your sky.

“I love you.”

And the moon in him explodes.

“I love you, too.”

And it’s the end of the day. You’re still and always will be the one that he wants

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyu x reader

[zillennial97]

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #hate to love #enemies with benefits

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player

Part 5 Skate Blades

(TW: Violence, Lots of cursing)

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Read first the Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4

Eric was pushed back against the shelves of the aisle, knocking some skates down. Andrew had a tight grip on the collar of his hoodie and despite the huge height difference, he had somehow managed to pin the other goalie.

The skate on his hand came down at Eric at an almost impossible speed but Kevin managed to snap out of his surprised state and move quicker, grabbing Andrew’s hand and stopping it.

He realized his mistake way too late.

Andrew immediately shoved his elbow against Kevin’s stomach, making him let go and double over, cradling his stomach with his arms.

The blond turned his attention back to Eric and pressed the blade of the skate against his throat. When Eric gripped his wrist to push his hand away, Andrew only pressed harder.

“For fuck’s shake,” someone muttered and Kevin turned to look at Neil rushing towards them. Andrew pushed Eric back again, but Eric seemed to have gained back his own senses and brought his leg up, kicking Andrew back.

“Stop it. Now.” Kevin snapped at both of them, turning to look at Neil for help. He knew that he was the only one who could get through to Andrew.

“Andrew, don’t you think stabbing someone in public is going to cause more problems than solving them?”

Andrew was staring at Eric with a blunt expression despite holding onto the skate still.

Kevin’s heart was pounding but he wouldn’t dare try to make a move on Andrew again. It still felt as if his breath had been knocked out of him.

“Kevin,” Andrew’s tone made Kevin almost flinch. He knew from personal experience that despite their deal, Andrew wasn’t beyond lashing at Kevin.

Neil had to go reassure an employee that everything was alright so Kevin was left to deal with Andrew on his own.

Worst part was that Kevin couldn’t tell what Andrew was thinking right at that moment.

“Mind explaining why you were lying all those nights?” His tone was deadly calm, with a small hint of sarcasm that told Kevin that Andrew had never bought all these bullshit lies.

Kevin was cornered. His gaze went from Andrew to Eric, whose eyes were also on him. This resulted in them exchanging a long look until Andrew stood in front of Kevin and pressed the blade flat against Kevin’s chest.

“My patience, Kevin. Don’t test it.”

“I was going with Eric to the rink so he could teach me how to skate,” he finally admitted.

Andrew’s expressionless gaze stayed on him for a few moments before he pulled back.

“You were always so easy to read. And here I thought you didn’t have the spine to do something so stupidly reckless.”

“It’s nothing. It’s meaningless. Just a waste of my time.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed at Kevin.

“Oh, is it?” Andrew asked, probably noticing Eric’s reaction.

“It didn’t mean anything. It was just a matter of pride. Nothing more.”

Eric scoffed and shook his head as if disappointed.

“Of course. After all, Day has but little time for those of us who are beneath him.” Eric’s words dripped with venom. “Don’t worry, Minyard. Tug on that little leash of yours all you want. I’m done.”

Kevin watched him move past them and leave.

He felt a small twitch in his chest but Andrew stepping back and finally giving him space caused his attention to turn back to him.

“I don’t like anyone touching my stuff, Kevin. I made an exception about Thea, but you chose to break up with her.”

“It’s not like that.” Kevin snapped. “The press is just blowing things out of proportion.”

Andrew watched him, as if not quite believing that.

“Ichirou isn’t going to kill you over this.” He said, as if Kevin was stupid for even considering that, somehow reading his thoughts. “The news has probably gotten to him first too. You would already be dead.”

Somehow, that didn’t make Kevin feel any better.

Neil came back after helping the employee pick up the fallen skates, looking down at his cellphone.

“Kevin, you might want to look at this.”

He held the phone up and Kevin looked at the screen, reading the message Neil had just received.

‘Tell Day to keep it up.’

Unknown number. Though Kevin already knew who it was from.

“What?

“There is no such thing as bad press,” Andrew started and brought the skate up, running his finger across the blade. “The team you’ve signed with already isn’t going to break the contract over this. These news only bring more attention to your name. More cash to Ichirou.”

He then turned to Neil and said, “Tell him that Kevin isn’t doing this.”

“He can’t just tell Ichirou no. Not unless you want Kevin dead, just so Ichirou can turn him into an example of what he does to those disobeying him.”

Kevin kept staring at the message, dumbfounded. He then clenched his jaw and pushed Neil’s hand away.

“I’m not doing this. I don’t even like-,”

Neil raised an eyebrow, as if challenging him to finish that sentence.

“Fuck you, Josten.”

“He’s not doing this,” Andrew said with an edge to his voice, as if ready to snap at any moment.

“Fuck it if I’m letting the foxes lose the season because of another ‘tragic accident’. In any case, this will die down after a month, tops. Just roll with it. After that, Kevin can go back to kissing his Exy racquet instead. For now, we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Stop fucking talking as if I’m not standing right here,” Kevin spatted.

Andrew ignored him as he thought. He stared Neil down, as if the two of them were having a silent conversation that Kevin wasn’t a part of. The striker was used to that by now.

“No more of the skating bullshit. They’ll only do enough to satisfy the tabloids and Ichirou.”

“I’m not gonna fucking pretend I’m dating Jiang Eric to please the press.”

“Wanna tell that to Ichirou?” Neil asked and held his phone up.

Needless to say, Kevin knew he had no choice. He couldn’t go up against Ichirou – the man who pretty much owned him – and tell him ‘no’.

He had to do this. It just so happened that he made his life worse by telling Andrew in front of Eric that those late-night practices on the rink meant nothing.

Whatever progress the two had made into bridging the gap was now gone. Kevin would have to find the nerve to go to Eric and ask him to pretend they are going out. He had no idea how to do that, but from the little he got to know Eric a bit more personally, he didn’t think he was the type of person to not help someone in need.

He wasn’t even going to try and think about what this all meant. Kevin was straight. It was easier that way. When all this would be done, he would find a girl to date and people would forget about this fiasco.

But at that moment, he had to approach Eric and find a common ground.

#all for the game #aftg #aftg headcanon #aftg oc #OC: Jiang Eric #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #Palmetto State Foxes #exy #dan wilds #matt boyd #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #renee walker #allison reynolds #ichirou moriyama #edgar allan ravens #jean moreau #jeremy knox #jerejean

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla​ for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window. 

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”,  just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest. 

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

----------------

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo. 

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece. 

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room. 

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day." 

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar. 

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking." 

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?" 

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.  

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece. 

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye. 

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground. 

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor. 

"Funny you should say that…" 

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder. 

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed. 

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily. 

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass. 

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room. 

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

----------------

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood. 

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining. 

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit. 

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day. 

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself. 

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?” 

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous. 

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent. 

“I believe it’s my turn.” 

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head. 

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt. 

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around 

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down 

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms. 

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil. 

it will steal your heart tonight 

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance. 

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock. 

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line. 

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you. 

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song. 

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes." 

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily. 

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment. 

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction. 

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest. 

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation. 

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer. 

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice. 

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern. 

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything. 

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie." 

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes. 

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“ 

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving. 

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute. 

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve. 

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took. 

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you. 

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave. 

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight. 

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze. 

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt. 

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused. 

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?" 

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

----------------

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?" 

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed. 

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil tenet #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #neil tenet imagine #neil x reader #smoke & mirrors #tags hate me

[thekillerssluts]

We’ve Got A File On You: Win Butler

In a year when a lot of our plans have been on hold, Win Butler has been busy. In April, the Arcade Fire ringleader let us know that the band had been working on music shortly before lockdown, and then he let us hear some of it. Last week, on the night of the election, the band debuted a new song called “Generation A.” Apparently, Butler was one of the people who found quarantine more inspiring than suffocating. Just a couple weeks ago, he amended his previous hints with the update that he’s written “two or three” Arcade Fire albums thanks to having to stay still all year long.

It seems like there’ll be a whole lot of new Arcade Fire goings-on to parse sometime on the horizon, but that isn’t the reason Butler and I got on the phone one recent October afternoon. Butler’s not quite ready to talk about forthcoming music yet, aside from saying this era of writing gives him flashbacks to that which preceded The Suburbs and promising “The new shit is about some of the best shit we’ve ever done” as we say goodbye.

In the meantime, there have been some milestones this year: The Suburbs turned 10; Butler turned 40. There is, of course, a whole lot of rich Arcade Fire history between their early ’00s origins and now. There are too many high-profile collabs to dig through, too many pop culture crossovers to cover, in just one conversation. But before Arcade Fire’s next chapter begins, while we both had a moment of quiet at home in the year 2020, Butler and I took some time to dig back through highlights and surprises from across his career.

Appearing In Bill & Ted Face The Music (2020)

How did this happen?

WIN BUTLER: They were filming in New Orleans. I’m kind of the exact age where Bill & Ted really has a soft spot in my worldview. [Laughs] That was just like, yeah, of course I want to be in the Future Council. That’s the part I was born to play. No, it’s funny, it was just one of these random things that come through the email. Usually, it’s, “Nope, nope, nope, nope.” But this was, “Tell me when, tell me where, I’ll be there.” It was on soundstages. When we were filming it, Tommy Lee from Mötley Crüe was back there, and he sort of disappeared at some point. I got to bring my son, who’s six. He was hanging out and we were talking to Keanu about Canada and punk bands back in the day. It was a pretty sweet hang. It was a bright spot in 2020, let me put it that way.

You say you get these emails — is that random stuff they want Arcade Fire to do, or there’ve been other cameos you turned down?

BUTLER: Oh, no, it’s mostly random licensing or stuff that goes to the junk box. But every once in a while, it’s like, “Hey, that sounds like a nice way to spend the day.” I started out in film. I went to Sarah Lawrence College in New York around 2000. I had really wanted to go to film school, and I could never get in. [Laughs] Initially, the song “The Suburbs” was an idea I had for a film and it seemed easier to make a song than a film.

The Suburbs (2010)

That was a convenient segue. The Suburbs just turned 10. I was wondering if you have gone back and revisited it much amidst that anniversary.

BUTLER: The whole experience of Funeral was such a rollercoaster. We were on the road so long. We didn’t have much of a break going into the second record. For The Suburbs, Régine and I — I don’t think we saw anyone for a year straight before we even started demoing or anything for that record.

It was a time in my life… I don’t know, I was in my late twenties, and there were all these details of my childhood in Houston. You know, I moved to Canada when I was 19. [Houston] almost felt like this other life I had. I would close my eyes and imagine riding my bike through town and trying to find the edges of my memory. There was kind of all this emotion that came up through that, and I wanted to capture it. It’s funny, as a songwriter, most of the time I feel like my mind is living in the near future. You’re listening for these little signals in the air. This was almost inhabiting the emotional space of these memories but thinking about it as the future.

When you say it like that, I’m curious if the album feels different to you now that you’re a father yourself and another 10 years down the line. Like another layer to that refracted youth, sort of?

BUTLER: Totally. In a way, I feel like the last year has been a parallel to that year before The Suburbs. Then I was kind of a hermit by choice, and this has more been the world conspiring to make me a hermit, but it has been a really introspective. In a sense, the material that we’ve been working on feels the same way, this hybrid of your emotional landscape and the future.

It’s almost seasonal, like a trade wind that blows in once in a while. I remember we played with Neil Young when he was still doing the Bridge School Benefit and hearing him sing “Old Man” as an old man, almost like he wrote the song when he was 22 to sing when he was 80. I think there’s an element on that Suburbs record that’s like that as well.

Winning The Grammy For Album Of The Year (2011)

Obviously that was a huge turning point for Arcade Fire because you won the Grammy the following year. As a suburban indie fan at the time, I had no real grasp on how big certain bands were. From where I was, it was pretty trippy that you guys won that.

BUTLER: I mean, tell me about it. It was definitely pretty trippy.

There are very, very early moments of you guys getting linked up with some iconic artists. Arcade Fire got plenty of respect from the beginning. But at the same time, the Grammys is something different. That’s a moment of mainstream insurgency. Ten years on, you’re one of the big indie bands of your generation, but also one of the only rock bands to get to that level in recent times.

BUTLER: I don’t know it was the best record that year, but it was definitely the best record nominated that year. I mean, we were up against a Lady Gaga remix record and like, Katy Perry. We weren’t up against a great Eminem record, we were up against a not-that-great Eminem record. In a certain sense, I was like, “Well, I think we should win.” [Laughs] I think we had the best record.

I remember in high school Radiohead and Björk were the two [new artists I loved]. I bought The Bends the day it came out, I bought Homogenic the day it came out. And then everything else I listened to was artists that had broken up 20 years earlier. I remember watching the Grammys the year OK Computer was nominated and it didn’t win, and I was just like, “Oh, that thing must not mean anything then.” I remember Dylan won, and it’s a really great Dylan record, but objectively OK Computer was the best record. So if that didn’t win, then what the hell does that thing mean? After that, I didn’t think about the Grammys that much. It wasn’t on my list of my dreams of my career and what I could accomplish and what I wanted to do.

For me, I was looking more at a band like the Cure or New Order, these bands that were really just artistic entities but you would hear them at a pharmacy once in a while. Like, I’d hear “Bizarre Love Triangle” come on in the pharmacy in Houston and just be like, “Is this from outer space? What the fuck is this?” My dreams for our band was to do for other people what those bands did for me, which was just throw me a fucking lifeline. Because I was just like, “What is this world, and where are my people, and how can I feel OK existing?” My grandfather played in big bands and played with Louis Armstrong, and he bought me a guitar when I was 15. I held on to that thing — if I didn’t have that I don’t think I would’ve made it out of high school. It literally saved my life. I don’t think I could exist without that.

For me, the Grammy thing was strangely moving. Even up until the moment we won, I just felt like an interloper. Even when we won, people looked at us like aliens. Like, “Who? What?” You know, I’m a competitive person. It was really exciting. Cool, awesome, the universe makes sense for one second. It’s interesting, I didn’t expect it to mean anything until we won, and then it meant something.

David Bowie (2005, 2013, Throughout)

I alluded to this earlier but: The Grammys were like an industry stamp of approval. From the beginning, however, you guys were embraced by a lot of elder artists — particularly artists who were influences on the band. One I wanted to talk about was David Bowie. He was a very early supporter; you performed together in 2005, which turned into a live EP. Then he shows up on “Reflektor” in 2013. Somewhere around 2015, you talked about how you’d come to regard him as this professor-type character in your life. He came to your first New York show, right?

BUTLER: Our first headlining show, when we played at the Bowery, Bowie and David Byrne came to that show.

Wow, no pressure huh.

BUTLER: It sort of set the table. Like, “Well, I guess this is how it’s going to be right out of the gate.” [Laughs] It’s funny, I have a photo of David in my studio that I look at when I’m working sometimes. It’s just him in a dressing room with one of those kind of Hollywood mirrors behind him. He really… I don’t know, he felt some sort of spiritual connection with us. It wasn’t like he wanted anything from us. I just think he wanted to say, “Hey guys, you’re going on the right path, keep going.”

I was emailing him over all those years. I don’t know if you have anyone close to you that’s died and you go back and read those emails, it’s really these strange digital fragments of someone you care about. After he sang on “Reflektor,” Régine and I bought him a painting in Haiti as a thank you gift. We were supposed to mail it to him and we got busy and forgot about it, and in the interim he passed. I knew he wasn’t well, but I didn’t know he was dying. Maybe a couple months later I remembered the painting and I dug it out and it was a painting of a black star. A voodoo painting of a black star with rays coming out of it.

I didn’t know anything about his record being Blackstar or anything like that. Now it’s on the wall of my bedroom. Shit like that sometimes happens in my life. I take it for what it is. I don’t know exactly what that means and I just feel grateful… I don’t know man. Even just how inspiring, what he put into his art even in death. He’s someone I think about at least on a weekly basis.

Backing Up Mick Jagger On SNL (2012), Playing With The Rolling Stones (2013)

Obviously that was an ongoing relationship, and you’ve worked with David Byrne too, and you referenced playing with Neil Young. Still: Being onstage with the Rolling Stones seems particularly daunting.

BUTLER: We were Mick’s backing band on SNL. SNL is maybe one of my favorite American institutions. I don’t know if it’s the Canadian thing since Lorne [Michaels] is Canadian. The first time we did it, it was just like, “This dude is my friend.” I don’t know if Lorne’s kids like Arcade Fire or something. But I was in New York randomly and he was like, “Mick’s doing a thing,” and I said, “We do a pretty amazing cover of ‘The Last Time,’” and he said “Come on down, let’s do it.” Then we’re Mick’s backing band. I don’t know, pretty fucking cool.

What is Mick Jagger like to work with?

BUTLER: Mick is like: As soon as the light goes on, he’s a different person. When he turns it on, it’s like this muscle memory — like if you were with the greatest ballet dancer ever, and you say go and this energy comes out of him that is so practiced. It’s someone who’s an absolute master, after practicing something for decades and decades and decades. That was pretty amazing to see. You’re chatting with someone, we’re at the piano and we’re talking about an arrangement, “OK, let’s do a run,” and then, “Boom! Shit!” There he is.

It’s this other level. I feel like people at that level, music’s not something they’re fucking around with. [Laughs] Music is a spirit. You hear something, and if it strikes a chord with you, it connects something at your deepest core. People like that, when you see them do their thing, it really is this other plane. It’s not this show thing. It’s more of a possession. You can hear it in the music.

I feel like I’ve listened to more music during COVID than any time since I was like, 18. I had this moment when I was listening to these amazing records from the 1950s. You can hear the room. It’s almost like audio VR — you can hear the drummer here and the bass player over here. There’s a sense of space, particularly to that older music. It’s a snapshot. If you hear “La Bamba,” right now, that is what it is. It’s a spirit captured on vinyl, on a piece of tape. It’s alive within that.

With people like Mick, they’re a little bit closer to the spirit of rock ’n’ roll — a literal spirit, not a figurative spirit. Bowie was the same. When he played with us in Central Park, the second he hit the stage he’s illuminated. You’re like, “Oh, shit, that’s what it is.” He’s a human when you’re talking to him and as soon as he’s in it, he’s touched by another thing.

SNL (2007-Present)

I’m glad you brought SNL up, because you’ve been on it a bunch of times, but you’re also one of the musical acts they’ve brought into skits. Like, they actually wrote a game show around you. How does that work? Did they write that sketch with you guys, or you walked in and they’re like, “Hey, by the way…”

BUTLER: I can’t remember, I think we’ve been six or seven times. We’ve been there for a couple different casts at this point. The Lonely Island dudes, those are so my dudes. In another life, I would’ve been in Lonely Island, that would’ve been my dream to just fuck around with my friends; when we were first writing music we were kinda joking around because you’re too insecure to try. A lot of times [at SNL], we’ve played for the staff when we’re there, because you get so fired up to play one or two songs and you’re playing live so your endorphins are running so we just sort of keep playing afterwards. I feel like they appreciate that, it kinda feels like you’re on the same team or something.

I was backstage at SNL once last year, and it is pretty crazy to see it all from the inside like that.

BUTLER: It’s so crazy. They write it all that fucking week, and then to see the differences between the dress rehearsal and the live show. They do a little meeting in Lorne’s office. They’ve done the dress rehearsal and it’s still this tiny office and every cameraman and every cast member is crammed in this little office and Lorne’s like, “Make it a blue light instead of a green light at minute 23, and change this word to this word, I don’t think that’s funny, change that, OK, go,” and everyone’s got pencils writing this down. It’s still fucking that. And you know, it hits and misses sometimes, but they’re doing it.

How long did you have to work on your De Niro impression for that skit?

BUTLER: It’s actually more of a Billy Baldwin impersonation, but it seemed to work for De Niro as well. [Laughs] My only real impression is I can look exactly like Billy Baldwin if I want to. If there’s any casting directors reading this and you need a Billy Baldwin impersonator, I’m your man.

LCD Soundsystem’s Goodbye Show (2011)

You’re the one who ended up serendipitously coining the title of the live album.

BUTLER: [Laughs] That is true. That was genuine. He was being a little talky.

I moved to New York before I moved to Montreal, and I would go to the city and go to shows and I didn’t see one fucking thing that was good in the whole year. I was like, “Wait, I thought New York was the shit, where is it?” All I saw was bad, very industry bands. I couldn’t find anything, I wasn’t cool enough to figure out what was going on. There’s very few bands that I really think of, like bands of my generation where I heard them and thought “These are my people.” For me it was the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD, and Wolf Parade. When I heard those bands, I thought, “These are my fellow pilgrims.” It was art, DIY, no bullshit, just trying to make something great that communicates to people. It’s real and emotional.

James is really just one of us. He’s just such a great engineer and really into the way things sound and really passionate about details. It’s rare to meet people like that. James was working with us when Bowie came in, when we were in Electric Lady. James had never met Bowie before. The first 7” he ever bought was “Fame.” We’re in this studio, and the last time Bowie was there he had cut “Fame” with John Lennon, in the same studio. We were all like, “This is the right place to be.”

James is just a man after my own heart. We did a tour with them on Neon Bible. We were playing to a thousand people in Salt Like City and I was like, “Man, in a couple years a lot more people are going to wish they were at this show.” What a fucking great live band.

Scoring Her (2013)

What kind of headspace did you have to get into for this vs. making an album?

BUTLER: Spike [Jonze] came to a bunch of our early shows on Funeral. The second I met him he was just immediately one of my best friends. He thinks about the world the same way. Even though we work in different mediums he was someone I knew I’d be working with in some capacity. I was visiting LA and I was staying with Spike just randomly one time, in the early days of him working on the script for Her. I was reading the script and immediately thinking about how it could sound, and I was like, “Well, we should fucking do the score to this movie.”

When you’re working on a record, it’s so rigid, what works on a song and what doesn’t work on a song. It can be so limiting in a way. Within the band, there’s so many different talents and color palettes and things people bring to the table, so it was cool to do something where the boss is the picture. It doesn’t matter how anyone feels about a piece, if it’s working for Spike, if it’s working in harmony with the picture, that’s what the boss is — the emotionality of the picture. It’s not about you, it’s in service to this bigger thing. It was a cool opportunity for all of us to use different aspects of things we do, and to work with Owen [Pallett], who had done a lot of strings on our records. It uses a totally different part of your brain.

Do you want to do more of that kind of work, or was it this specific story from Spike that spoke to you?

BUTLER: I can say pretty confidently that I’ll work with Spike in the future. It definitely takes a lot of energy. It’s definitely something I’m interested in, but I feel like while I’ve got the juice it’s good to spend as much energy writing songs as we can. It’s pretty fucking hard to make a record, believe it or not.

Future’s “Might As Well” Sampling “Owl” From Her(2017)

Are you a big Future fan?

BUTLER: I love Future. There’s something in the rhythm of the thing he does that actually reminds me of some music from Haiti, in this really deep, subtle way I can’t put my finger on. There’s something almost mystical in the way he sounds, and I thought that was really cool that they sampled that soundtrack. His shit does sound like the future still. I think it’s pretty special.

The Reach Of ”Wake Up” (2004-Present)

This song has had this big pop-culture reach over the years. U2 used it as their walk-on music in the ‘00s. It was used in the trailer for another Spike movie, Where The Wild Things Are. Macy Gray and John Legend both covered it. Microsoft ripped it off for a commercial. It was used in a commercial for LA’s bid for the Olympics.

BUTLER: That Microsoft money went to Haiti, by the way. They did rip it off. [Laughs] Thank you Microsoft.

As far as I know that’s far from an exhaustive list, too. It’s just one of those songs that’s gone out and become a part of the atmosphere. Even a lot of big bands don’t necessarily have a song like that. What do you think it is about “Wake Up” that’s registered in so many different contexts?

BUTLER: From the time we wrote that song to now, the biggest difference in my life is I’ve traveled the world and I’ve been able to play music in all these different cultures and feel the ways different countries feel music. Not only listening to the music in other countries but seeing how they feel the music I play.

I remember around The Suburbs we played in rural Haiti. It was our first time playing in a place where nobody in the audience had any of the reference points of the music we played. We were playing in the mountains, there were people walking in barefoot to the concert. We were playing these songs we had been touring the world with, and the energy from the crowd was so different. The things they responded to, the things they felt, it actually fundamentally changed the way I heard my own music. It made me start to think about music not just from my own perspective but culturally how people hear it and feel it.

I think the one thing that kind of transcends everything across all cultures is melody. Régine was playing that melody on piano in our rehearsal room. I hear it like it was yesterday. It was like, “That’s the shit.” [Laughs] Being present and being in the room, hearing something and really giving yourself to it, just singing that shit like it really meant it and feeling the power of that melody and trying to push it until it breaks. That’s something I think about, just how great it is to have people to play music with. To say it like you mean it.

I remember singing that song in Montreal, in these lofts. Most of our early fans, the first time we played that song, they were like “Fuck this shit, I want the acoustic shit.” People were so negative. I remember a lot of early fans didn’t come to our shows after that because we were suddenly screaming at the top of our lungs and playing electric guitars. It was like, “Everyone here hates this, that means we must be going in the right direction.” [Laughs] But yeah, don’t be discouraged if people hate something. It doesn’t mean shit.

https://www.stereogum.com/2105395/win-butler-interview-spike-jonze-arcade-fire-snl-mick-jagger-david-bowie/interviews/weve-got-a-file-on-you/

#Arcade Fire #Win Butler #interview

[aledethanlast]

Do you have anything written or any ideas for "The fic where Neil’s cousins from his father’s side show up because they want to reconnect after Nathan cut off his family, but they’re all fucking lunatics like Neil and Wymack wants to cry" and if so would mind sharing.

Lmaoooooo

Neil's family tree is...a bit of a mess

His mother's side is pretty straightforward, your average british crime family

The Wesninskis, on the other hand...

Nathan is considered the black sheep of the family, but less due to the brutal murderer thing as much as the selling out to the yakuza thing

Now the Wesninskis are not a crime family. In fact they'd be affronted if you implied as much. The Wesninski family is an old, well respected polish restauranteur family

Proudley serving for over 400 years!

And it's true, they really are all about that food life

They are also mean as all hell and incredibly dedicated to their own inner circle's personal comfort, and they dont take well to changes or external threats

Now, Poland is historically a very...geopolitically useful country. Lots of open farmland, weak governments, very easy and very useful to conquer

Everybody wants a piece of that polish ass basically

The wesninkis do not care for these rude foreigners. They barge in, make a mess, and dont even leave a tip

Now the Wesninskis are not a crime family. In fact they'd be affronted if you implied as much

But if kicking some rude german ass is considered a crime, well

Ain't that a thing

And of course they didnt care for that "Eastern Bloc" nonsense at all, I mean that's just tourism money down the drain! Have fun with that Mr Gorbachev but we're opting out on this one

The family was, of course, in an absolute uproar when they found out that Nathan not only went to America, but had a whole child and never told them

Also he turned into a serial killer but like. Disappointed but not surprised on that one, ya know? It's like great-grandpa Aleksy, who spent all of ww1 blowing up bridges on british orders but when the war ended he just kept going.

The family desperately wants to meet Nathaniel, but the crime world has too large a target on his back, and the wesninkis are powerful, but they pick their battles, and unlike most crime families they hold little regard for the equivalence of blood and family.

AFTER the championships tho

Our boi is a free elf! Let's go pay him a visit!

And so three of Neil's cousins who are around his age hop on a plane to the east coast

Now, math question for you: if Neil causes Wymack X headaches per day, which is compounded by 1.8 every time he opens his mouth and/or enters Wymack's line of sight at times he doesnt expect Neil, how many headaches will Wymack get when he comes to the court on a quiet saturday morning to find four Neil clones sitting in the lounge.

Trick question, he gets an aneurism

"Okay so yall are either his family or his clones and idk which is worse"

The cousins introduce themselves: Aleksander, Jules, Noam, and Nikolai

And that's when Neil Andrew and Kevin walk in.

Neil stares in horror at his waving cousins.

"K so yall are either my family or my clones and idk which is worse"

Andrew just walks right back out the door

Kevin: do yall play exy

Wymack: well this has been pleasant, and by pleasant I mean the latest in a series of ongoing nightmares. I will be in my office. If you need me, that's a shame.

#aftg #the foxhole court #whoot me an ask if you want a continuation

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 29

T/W: death

A/N: sorry it's taken me so long to post this, but here we go!

Katrina's POV

Darkness. All around me, consuming. Is this all there is?

No, this can't be it. I can hear something.

Sirens.

Murmuring.

Breathing.

I can feel my chest rising and falling.

Fuck.

--

I woke, mind fuzzy, floating high in painkiller clouds. Had a brief thought to laugh and scream and cry about my failure. Didn't because I was lulled back to sleep.

Somewhere else, I could hear Olivia humming gently, lulling me back to sleep.

--

The next time I woke up, I was overcome with the smell of bleach. Too stiff blankets scratched my skin. I wiggled my fingers and toes, testing my control. I couldn't hear Neil, couldn't feel him, but deep down I knew he was still here.

I opened my eyes, squinting under the bright lights at the bare room. There was nobody here waiting, noone sleeping softly in the chair beside my bed. I tried to talk, to call out, but a sharp spike of pain stopped me and I curled into myself with a groan. Laid there for a minute, breathing deeply as I waited for the pain to subside.

"Hey, you're awake,"

I looked over to see Billy poking his head in the door, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand.

I tried to talk again, to ask him what happened, but opening my mouth sent another flash of pain. He hurried over and placed a notebook and pen in my lap.

"You're not gunna be able to talk for a while," he explained.

'What happened?' I scribbled.

"What do you remember?"

'Neil, he tried to stop me. Mirror.'

He looked so weary when he nodded, "you tried to kill yourself...Katrina, I told you we'd find another way.."

'No other way,' I gave him a thin smile.

He reached over, took my hand in his and squeezed gently, "don't give up yet.."

I met his eyes, saw the purple bags there and realized he was as tired as I was. Stressed and broken down like I was.

"Don't give up on me," he murmured, "just give me some more time.."

I squeezed his fingers and nodded. He sighed with relief, shoulders dropping and leaned to kiss my forehead. Sat down in the chair next to my bed, thumb sweeping gently across my hand.

"How do you feel?"

I scribbled messily with my free hand, 'hurts.'

"Yeah, you did a number on yourself. Cut your tongue right in half," his fingers came up and brushed my cheek, across a cotton bandage I hadn't noticed, "got your cheek a bit too. Scared the shit out of me."

'Sorry.'

He smirked, his tongue between his teeth, "I almost asked them to keep your tongue split in two, oral would have been fantastic."

I rolled my eyes and puffed air out my nose, the closest I could get to a laugh.

'Asshole.'

He laughed, proud of himself. I perked at the smell of citrus, eyes flicking to search for her.

"What?" He asked, turning to look around the room and back at me.

'Elle.'

"She's here?"

Billy smiled when I nodded and stood up.

"I'll take a walk...give you a few minutes and come back with a doctor."

I looked up at him, smiling as softly as I could and hoping he understood how grateful I was.

It took a minute after Billy left for Elle to appear, her usual warm smile replaced with a sad, tight lipped one.

"Hi, Katrina" she murmured.

My eyes watered and I stretched out a hand to lace our fingers together. She gripped my hand tight and brushed her fingers over my hair.

"What did you do to yourself?" She asked, "this isn't like you...you're a fighter."

I shrugged, eyes flicking down.

"Has he really broken you?"

I pulled my hand from hers to hold my notebook and write, 'easier to give him what he wants. Or try again. Do it right.'

Elle sighed, "you can't just give up. You have to be strong and fight him."

Tears started to slip down my cheek, 'it's too hard. I'm tired.'

"I know it's hard but you have to fight this bastard, okay? Give Billy some more time...he really loves you, you know?"

I sniffed and nodded slowly.

She cupped my cheek, fingers sweeping through tears, "and I know you love him too. And that's okay, let yourself love him, Katie. Just stop being stupid and tell him."

I returned her smile and pointed at my mouth before writing, 'can't.'

She laughed, "smart ass."

'Love you, Ellie.'

"I love you, Katie."

She bent to kiss my forehead softly before disappearing.

--

Billy brought me back to my apartment after the doctor explained what my healing would entail. A liquid diet and salt water rinses for two weeks, try not to talk until the stitches fall out and come back if an infection sets in. Tylenol and sleep to manage pain. I feel like I could sleep for two weeks straight, so that's easy enough.

Let ourselves into my apartment and saw Steve and Riley standing there.

"You're home!" Riley came over to hug me softly, "how are you feeling? Hungry?"

I pulled back, held up my notebook and wrote, 'little hungry, tired.'

She kept gentle fingers on my arm as she led me to the couch, "here, lie down. We got some groceries for you, I'll make you something."

I sat down on the end of the couch, 'you didn't have to buy me food.'

Riley smiled, eyes crinkling, "well we couldn't leave you with nothing to eat, all your food went bad."

I went to scribble on my notepad, to ask how much I owed them but she stopped my hand.

"We wanted to do it. Lay down, I'll get you some soup."

Billy sat down on the other side of my couch, placed a pillow on his legs and patted it. He waited for me to lie down and get comfortable before covering me with the blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch.

I wrote in the notebook and tapped his leg to get his attention.

'How's Pudge?'

"He's good, big now. I'll bring him over later."

'My plants?'

He smiled down at me, "we tried our best, a couple of them don't look too happy but you can take care of them later, just get some rest."

His warm hand smoothed over my hair and I closed my eyes, letting myself drift to sleep.

--

"Katrina."

I hummed, not wanting to leave the dark. Not yet.

Warm fingers brushed my skin, bringing the smell of the ocean and the feeling of dirt under bare feet to my head.

"Come here."

I opened them slowly, squinting against the light. Saw that I was on a beach and that Olivia was standing at the edge of the water, looking back at me with her fingers resting lightly on my arm.

"Come on," she urged.

I came forward, joining her at the water's edge. She clasped my hand tight in hers, smiling as she looked out into the horizon.

"I used to read about pirates. Nasty men who murdered and stole. Left destruction and blood in the waves behind them."

I looked over at Olivia, at the wistful smile on her face as the wind blew her hair over her shoulder.

"Princes and princesses too. Women being swept away by Prince Charming and living happily ever after. Having all they ever dreamed of and more," she turned to look at me, "I thought I found my Prince Charming in Neil, but now I understand. Prince Charming and Bluebeard are the same man and you don't get a happy ending. Not unless you can love both of them."

I cast my eyes down, biting my lip.

"But you can't, can you?"

"No," I whispered.

"I've seen love die way too many times when it deserved to be alive," she touched her knuckles under my chin, lifting my face to look at her, "I've seen you cry way too many times. You deserve to be alive and in love."

"But, the only way to get rid of him is if I die, Olivia."

She shook her head, "your heart has to stop, long enough for you to break his hold. But, there's a window of time where you can be brought back. Without him."

"Is that it?"

"There's also a chance that breaking his hold will wipe your memory."

"What? Like, I won't remember anything?"

A sad smile curled one side of her lips, "it's a possibility. But he'd be gone...you'd be free."

--

"You sure about this?" Billy asked.

I nodded.

I'd just told him what Olivia had said in my dream. That there was a chance to end this once and for all. I left out the losing my memory part though, he didn't need to worry about that.

"What if we can't bring you back?"

'I'll be free,' I wrote.

He ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"I'll talk to Steve and the girls, see if we can make a plan...but I'm not promising anything and you need to heal up first."

'Thank you,' I smiled and reached to squeeze his fingers.

His mouth twitched into a quick smile that withered when he looked away.

-- 3 weeks later

The cabin loomed in the trees, dark and foreboding. Cold and empty still since the last time I was here. I half expected it to be closed up with caution tape. But there was nothing, no sign that anybody missed this cabin or the man that owned it.

There was still a bag full of my clothes thrown on the floor and a pile of bloody bandages beside the bathroom sink. The only evidence of what had happened.

My stitches had come out almost a week ago. Right when I started to feel Neil's presence coming back. When I started to hear whispers and see shadows at the edges of my vision. It was now or never, we decided.

"Hey," Billy murmured, smoothing his hand over my shoulder and squeezing gently, "how ya feeling?"

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, "nervous."

He huffed out a laugh at the lisp I developed re learning how to talk. He'd spent days howling with laughter when I first started talking again.

I glared up at him and he squeezed me to his side.

"We won't let anything happen to you. We've got it all figured out."

"There's something else...something I didn't tell you."

He tensed, "what?"

"Olivia...she said there's a chance that if I wake up-"

"When you wake up," Billy interrupted.

"There's a chance that I won't remember anything..."

He was quiet for a moment and then a slow smirk spread over his face.

"I guess that means I'll get to blow your mind all over again...maybe I'll get the courage to tell you a little earlier."

"Tell me what?"

A light blush warmed his cheeks when he turned, dipping his face close to mine.

"Tell you that I love you."

--

"Okay, Katrina. You ready?"

I nodded at Steve, hands sweaty at my sides.

"Let's do this."

He nodded once, face tight, "you've got four minutes until we need to bring you back. Riley, you guys ready?"

I looked over at Riley, Brook, Audrey and Tris. They looked like warriors in all black clothes and matching stoney faces, like they would be the ones fighting off Neil for me.

"Protections are set, ambulance is on the way just in case," Riley said, "as ready as we'll ever be."

Steve blew out a long breath, shaking his hands out, "okay, let's do this. Audrey's going to use her powers to keep you still, just in case Neil tries to take over, okay? Try not to panic."

I felt my body starting to tremble when I nodded and whispered, "okay."

Billy stepped up in front of me, a plastic bag in his hands. He cupped my face and kissed me gently.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you."

He slipped the bag over my head, pulling it tight around my neck. I felt Audrey's powers keeping me still, stopping me from thrashing and fighting until the darkness took over.

--

I woke to find myself in Neil's world. The pink bathtub surrounded by lush plants to my right, the giant plush bed to my left. The fire crackled and popped angrily in front of me, flames growing to lick the outside of the fireplace.

"Katrina? What did you do?"

Neil appeared in front of me, eyes brimming with tears.

"What did you do?" He yelled.

"I have to end it, Neil," I murmured.

"You can't do that...you can't do that to me, Katrina. What about us?"

I closed my eyes when his knuckles brushed my cheek and leaned into the soft touch.

"Katrina, please, just wake up," he begged, "we can be happy again...I've been trying to be good, you know that, right?"

I could hear the fire crackling louder when I looked up at him, at his watery eyes and nodded, whispering, "I know.."

"Then we up...I won't control you anymore, I promise...I love you, Katrina. Don't you love me?"

My lip wobbled when I glanced away.

"No."

I felt my words hit him like a knife to the chest, felt the red hot pain settle in my heart.

"No?"

I took a steadying breath and looked back at him. At his sharp, angular face and icy blue eyes, his dark hair falling messily around his eyes.

"I don't love you anymore," I choked.

In a split second, he changed. He stopped crying and any sense of grief left him, replaced with burning rage. Strong hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing as tight as he could. Neil's lip pulled back with a sneer at the sound of me choking. I scratched frantically at his wrists, but he just squeezed harder, muscles shaking from the effort.

Darkness spread in my vision, consuming while my lungs stopped gasping for air and I fell into nothingness.

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

#billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fic #billy hargrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove series

[shannygoatgruff]

Lovecraft Country - yet another great book fucked up by being turned into a TV show!

- Rant ahead, be warned: Spoiler alert!

Bitch, I’m spitting fire, right now! So, I finally finished episode 2 of Lovecraft Country and I just need to know whose ass do I need to kick? 

Okay, so I know that if you’re going to turn a book into a movie or a TV show you have to take some creative license, but if you rewrite the whole damn thing just to put it on the screen then why not change the fucking name, slap some new shit in it and claim it to be an original project? Don’t gas me up and tell me it’s the TV show of a book I fucking love, you lying bastards, not without a disclaimer that this shit was fan-fucking-fiction!

HBO is singlehandedly doing to Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff, what Starz did to American Gods by Neil Gaiman, rewriting one of my favorite books for a piss-poor TV rendition! I’m used to everyone doing this shit with Stephen King’s work, but I won’t stand for this shit, HBO & Jordan Peele & that mark-ass J.J. Abrams (I don’t trust him)...not with this gem of a novel! I can’t sleep on that.

To start, who the fuck is Dee? Uncle George and Hippolyta have a 12-year-old SON named Horrace who writes comic books. Not a girl - but I’ll let that slide, cause girl power and all. But, what the hell do you mean that Hippolyta doesn’t travel and write for the Safe Negro Travel Guide? She has a MAJOR plotline later in the book in one of her travels! How the fuck is she supposed to do it, if this Uncle George won’t let her travel? Who the fuck was going to stop her? Not Uncle George’s bitch ass!

Then, since when is Ruby a singer? Ruby is a stuck up, goodie-two-shoes bitch, that’s about it. Who the fuck this is woman jamming on stage? And judging from what they’ve shown of her in the beginning I don’t see this Ruby taking the deal that she’s offered later in the book... 

When did Leticia get so hyper-sexualized? Leticia was a hard-working woman who had big dreams, but she wasn’t this vixen that they’ve made her out to be. Granted, she could hold her own and she didn’t take much shit, but this version? How Sway? When did Marvin (the brother) get cured of Polio? I’d really like to fucking know!

And that whole scene in the woods with the Sheriff - that’s NOT how that happened! OMG, I know what it’s like when you want to insert your vision into story canon when you’re writing fan fiction, but not on my watch HBO, you schmucks! I would leave it alone except they killed the fucking sheriff; so now he can’t come back.  

Um, Hello - Caller? Who the fuck is Christina Braithwhite? This bitch doesn’t exist! Samuel Braithwhite has a son, named CALEB BRAITHWHITE, who is the main antagonist! How you gonna write out the antagonist? And he’s a bad motherfucker! Is Caleb supposed to be Jordan Patrick Smith’s character or is he supposed to be the light-skinned butler that greets them when they get to the mansion, cause William doesn’t exist either? It would be kinda cool if Jordan was Caleb, I won’t lie, though. 

And while we’re at it, why didn’t Christina/fake Caleb tell Atticus (I don’t who the hell Tic is) tell them how to defeat Samuel? What happened to the really cool magic scene on the bridge? How & why did Leticia AND Uncle George gets shot? It was Pop that got shot, not them! And Uncle George dies? Get the fuck out of here! He plays an intricate role at the end of the book!  

OMG, HBO, Peele & Abrams you suck and you’re seriously chapping my ass here! What the fuck are you doing? It is only 2 episodes in and I’m already having a stroke on how much you have fucked up this book! At this point, just stop! Stop! Just take the wig off of Jordan and have him walk around with no shirt on and sit with Jurnee by the pool and let them give me gardening tips. That’s all the eye candy I need, not this foolishness and shenanigans that you’re doing a great piece of American literature!

I have to say the actors are making the most out of what they were given, but Jesus wept!

I might have 1 more episode in me before I completely give up on it. I need to see what they are going to do with the Winthrope story-line before I completely blow a gasket! I’m trying to stick it out to support Jordan, but they are fucking with my emotions here! I stopped watching American Gods for the same reason - they completely ruined a book a love. 

But, I will tell you this...if anyone EVER thinks about adapting Clive Barker’s The Abarat for the screen, they better run that shit by me first, or there’s gonna be smoke in the city...cause I’m fucking them up on sight! 

Thank you for joining my Ted Talk!

@xbellaxcarolinax​

#Lovecraft Country #WTF is really going on #Jordan I don't even know if you can save this trainwreck #I wanted to love this show so bad #shannyland

[sassyhazelowl]

Title: Of Chlorine, Nephews and Things Getting Better Pairing: stingue Word Count: 3, 400 Rating: PG Warnings: none A/N: @blackbloodrose20 I’m your secret Valentine for the exchange hosted by @ft-fairyexchanges. I hope you enjoy the story! It got a bit away from me, as this pairing tends to do, but I think it works.

-

This was not Rogue’s day.

“That was so embarrassing, Uncle!”

Rogue ignored the faint smells of wet clothing and chlorine that permeated the car and the soft croon of the radio, fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel in mortification. His clothing clung to his skin and his hair to his scalp. When he’d slipped on the side of the pool and fell in, he hadn’t been planning to take a dip.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

This was said silently in his mind of course. Neil, his nephew, already had reason to doubt his sanity after what happened this afternoon. No reason to give the poor boy more evidence. Really, he probably shouldn’t even be driving, the shaking made things a bit unsteady and it was hard to focus on the road.

“For you or me?” Rogue replied archly, a beat too late. 

Lips burning, he took a hand off the wheel and scrubbed the back of it across them, hard. It felt good, for a second, then the burn came back. It had been a long while since he’d had a man’s lips on his.

The pre-teen in the passenger seat stopped to consider the question seriously, as he always did. Unfortunately for him, he was very much like Rogue was at that age. Awkward, quiet and serious. He tended to fade into the background of things, like a child-shaped shadow. He’d been like that for as long as Rogue had known him, which was about two months.

Neil flipped his too-long bangs from his eyes, peering over, “Are you okay?”

“Just wet.”

“You did fall in a swimming pool,” Neil pointed out and Rogue could feel his stare at the obvious and lame answer. “And Mr. Eucliffe had to pull you out and give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Rogue nearly hit his forehead on the steering wheel at the reminder but the last thing he needed today was to be pulled over. 

When Neil had brought home a permission slip and interest for swimming, Rogue’s friend really pushed for Rogue to let the boy join. Yukino seemed to have these sorts of things all figured out - at least where Neil was concerned. She said the boy needed a confidence boost and something to keep him busy. Rogue really just signed it because he thought that would buy him an extra hour three times a week alone - he didn’t realize those three hours would be spent in a damp, smelly building surrounded by a handful of middle aged moms on their cellphones. 

And he definitely hadn’t thought he’d be fished out of the pool like a drowned rat in front of everyone. Then kissed -- no, not kissed, mouth-to-mouth, absolutely not a kiss, it was a valid, medical procedure. 

It was a violent flashback to high school times. Stomach heaving, he shoved those thoughts away. That was the past. It was the past, and it couldn’t hurt him anymore. He was past that now, in a better - ok, well, different, anyway, place.

“I’m fine,” Rogue repeated numbly, realizing with dawning horror that the next swimming practice was sooner than he could handle. All those people were there. Mr. Eucliffe would be there too. High school never ended, did it? “It’s fine.”

Everything was fine.

What was another emergency visit to the therapist?

~

“Hey! You’re that guy from Swimland!”

If Rogue’s shoulders could creep up any higher, he’d be an actual turtle hiding in his shell. Lacking a shell and a retractable neck in general, he winced and slowly pivoted around, life-sustaining coffee in one hand and an indulgent raspberry danish in the other.

“You are! Everything good?”

The overenthusiastic swim instructor’s bright blue eyes twinkled and his smile gleamed. Too bright, too shiny… too loud. Suddenly, the burning on his lips returned, along with the butterflies. That danish was expensive, flicked across his mind, which was a shame because he’d most certainly not be able to eat it now.

I hate my body, Rogue thought to himself crossly. He’d really, desperately needed a sweet treat for the week he was having.

“Hello, yes, I’m fine, now, uh, thanks.”

“No problem.” Wink. Smile. Rogue’s stomach squirmed a bit more. “Not every day I get to save someone like you.”

“What does that mean?”

The swim instructor blinked, taken aback by Rogue’s tone shift. He reared back a bit, shifting an eyebrow and becoming more guarded. Some of the shine hid behind those clouds, the sunshine more bearable when he frowned instead of smiled.

“Uh… sorry?”

Rogue sighed, blowing the air out with a mix of regret and irritation at himself. He was fairly certain he wasn’t misreading the intent, but what if this guy really was just cluelessly friendly and a natural flirt? He probably had a girlfriend at home and was just nice with all the parents who paid his salary, so once again, Rogue was blowing things out of proportion. Rubbing the bridge of his nose and taking several deep breaths, he forced a smile with more teeth than cheer.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been having a bad week… month… several months, actually. Can I buy your coffee as an apology?” Rogue really, truly couldn’t afford that, but he’d also feel terrible for the rest of the day if he didn’t at least offer.

“If you’re having a bad week, maybe I should’ve bought you a coffee. I’m Sting Eucliffe, by the way. I’m sure you probably know that --” Rogue didn’t, which made him feel worse -- “But I really came up on you like a pal instead of someone I haven’t officially met yet. My friends say I can come on strong. And you are?”

“Rogue, Rogue Cheney, Neil’s uncle. I’d shake but…” He held up his coffee and danish.

Sting looked him up and down with a tug of a smile that made his stomach flutter even more, “You’ve got your hands full. Uncle, huh? Neil’s a good kid; good swimmer too. Say, might be coming on too strong again, but you look like you need to talk. I’ve got a few hours before work… fair warning, I talk a lot, you might get sick of listening.”

Rogue sincerely doubted that. It would be like getting sick of the sun.

But Mr. Eucliffe might get sick of him. He didn’t have a lot of cheerful and chipper topics at the moment. Broke up with his long-term boyfriend, rather violently at that, last year on Valentine’s Day. Something about him being too brooding and not into fun. Lost his job to office politics, scrabbling to collect unemployment and find a new one. Hence why he was at the coffee shop in the first place, laptop waiting and white mocha in hand. Acquired a pre-teen ward, one he didn’t even know existed until he got a phone call two months ago. Rogue wasn’t close with his family after the falling out, but his sister had always been fond of him. Still, he’d spent long nights wondering why Neil was with him and not their parents. He was too afraid to call and ask.

He looked up into that hopeful, puppydog look and felt the resistance on the tip of his tongue disappear.

“...Sure.”

~ 

“Hey! Mr. Cheney!”

Rogue looked up, startled, nearly but not quite losing his balance. It was tempting, for a split second, to fall in. But at some point Mr. Eucliffe would realize Rogue was not only a proficient swimmer, but had won many competitions in college. Plus, he’d just regained his reputation with the moms - they hadn’t harassed or teased him too much about it. But falling in seemed to have broken some ice and more than once he’d been invited into their little gossip circle. It felt nice to belong, even if it was just a group of bored moms that would go their merry ways after their boys lost interest in swimming and moved on to the next sport.

Rogue had gotten in the habit of showing up a little early because Neil wanted to help set up. Today was the big meet, and Neil had been anxious all morning. 

“Congrats, man. Neil told me.”

Rogue felt a smile slip onto his face, although he wasn’t sure if it was the warm congratulations or the fact Neil was starting to open up to people. He’d taken a particular shine to Mr. Eucliffe, and Rogue found it nice to have someone who seemed to care as much about his nephew as he did - Neil gave them an excuse to talk. A coffee date here, some time after a meet there, before practice started during set-up.

“Thank you, Mr. Eucliffe.”

“I’ve told you this a million times, it’s just Sting. I don’t stand on ceremony.” 

That was true enough. Rogue had been regaled with many exciting stories of Sting, the globetrotter, getting in trouble for his lack of decor. Swim instructor was just the latest in a long career of job hopping and city changing lifestyle. Rogue had to wonder how long… how long before Sting grew bored and moved on. Like sunlight, he never stayed in one place.

Swallowing the lump that formed, he tried not to choke on his smile. He should be happy; he finally found a job. And it was a good job, a better job than his last one too. Things were looking up. It was too soon to be fretting about the future, like his therapist always told him.

“Thank you… Sting. You’ve been… you’ve been a big help. I probably couldn’t have done it without your support.”

“Aww,” Sting flushed an adorable shade of pink, his normally cocky look taking on a more boyish cast with embarrassment. Rogue had to fight back a blush of his own.

Neil stared between them with a look only a teenager could pull off but he didn’t make any quips. 

“Good luck out there, kid,” Sting said to him, giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder. Ducking his head, Neil mumbled in response before slipping away to get changed. He turned to Rogue, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess this is it, huh? The last big meet.”

Rogue’s smile slipped this time but he didn’t say anything. What was there to say? This little bubble of happiness wasn’t going to last forever after all. Happy things didn’t last in Rogue’s life.

“Yeah.”

“Since it's the last meet, we should celebrate. Take the kid out for some pizza, get wasted on root beer. It can be a little party.”

“For the group?”

Sting cocked his head, doing that thing that made Rogue feel like he was trying to read him. He shrugged, trying to pass it off nonchalantly, “I was thinking just the three of us. Love the other kiddos, of course, but there is a team party on Saturday. After this meet, I’m not the coach anymore anyway.”

Rogue sensed a trap. That anxious feel was creeping up on him, little and lurking, something wasn’t right, something was coming, he needed to do something, anything, because something wasn’t right, something was coming, he needed to do…

“No.” Rogue’s reply came out a little too sharp, a little too shrill. He backtracked, staring away at the unnaturally blue pool water as he mumbled, “No, um, sorry, Neil and I already have plans with Yukino.”

“Oh.”

Rogue didn’t say more or look before retreating to the bleachers, waving to Amara and Nicole as they stomped in, armed to the teeth with entertainment for younger siblings and bags full of supplies so their families didn’t starve. He knew within minutes the husbands would troop in, having gone to park the car, and then the rest of the crowd would follow to get a seat. For once, timing was on his side.

He had an easy out, and like a coward, he took it.

~

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rogue’s friend Yukino was eyeing him with a soft, concerned expression.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

She fiddled with the end of the blanket a moment, debating, before sighing, “Well, you keep inviting me over or out for coffee or to take Neil out, and that’s great and no problem. But it’s kind of weird? And you’ve been mopey. I thought things were going well with the new job.”

“It is.” It was. The new job was great. It paid the bills, his bosses appreciated him and he enjoyed the work. It was a big step up from being stuck under his old boss’s micromanaging and unethical thumb.

Neil, who had been quietly watching the movie Yukino and Rogue abandoned from the shadowy chair, piped up, “He’s sad because swim season is over. I told him I want to do it next time too but he’s still unhappy.”

Yukino wasn’t a fool. Armed with the new information, her gaze sharpened and she narrowed in, dropping the kid gloves behind her.

“Oh, so it’s about that. I see. And what have you done, exactly, since swim season ended besides moping and trying to use me to distract you?”

Rogue had nothing to say for himself that wouldn’t be damning. 

Yukino smiled a smile he wasn’t the biggest fan of and remarked, “Valentine’s Day is in a few days. I know you are the Scrooge of V-day after He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named…”

“Voldemort?” Neil blinked in confusion and a laugh of surprise barked out of Rogue, breaking him out of what was the beginning of a spiral at the mention of his ex. Doggedly, sensing he was now part of a grownup conversation, Neil pressed on, “I didn’t know you liked Harry Potter, Uncle Rogue.”

“Your Uncle is the biggest Harry Potter nerd, Neil,” Yukino confirmed. “But that’s not who we’re talking about.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe we can talk about Harry Potter later though, Uncle Rogue?” Neil asked hopefully. Rogue felt stabbed through the heart. Was this the same withdrawn, sulky child he picked up from the bus station with a backpack and small rolling suitcase? 

“Absolutely.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” It was the easiest promise Rogue had ever made and he hadn’t hesitated for even an instant.

“Great,” Yukino clapped her hands together, “Now the task at hand. Uncle Rogue is going to take some initiative!”

“With Mr. Eucliffe?” Rogue winced, thinking fast how to explain things to Neil, feeling things crumple. But the boy added quickly, “I hope it’s with Mr. Eucliffe. Uncle Rogue, you’re always so happy around him, and I want you to be happy. Plus, he’s always so happy when he sees you too.”

“It’s settled. Let’s get to work.”

~

His finger hovered over the bell. He’d only been here twice before, once with Sting’s car broke and he needed a ride and another when Sting got wasted at a bar crawl calling Rogue’s number by accident. Neither situation was particularly romantic, and Rogue hadn’t the nerve to cross the threshold then.

Sucking in a deep breath from between his lips, he shoved the bell, torn between hoping no one answered the door and desperately hoping someone did. 

When the door opened, he swallowed, hard. An intimidating woman answered the door with cutting edge fashion, perfect make-up and an expression that made Rogue want to close the door like he was in a horror movie. She looked him up and down with the interest of a large predator gauging meal or toy. Sting never mentioned a girlfriend! In fact, Rogue had hinted about it more than once and Sting always insisted he was single and free. Who was this? Did Rogue go to the wrong house? Did Sting go get someone to take away the pain of Rogue’s rejection?

“Is this the Eucliffe residence?”

“It is.”

Pursing her lips, she raked him up and down, before stepping aside and motioning in. Even her heels clicked judgmentally on the foyer’s tiles. So not a girlfriend? Definitely not a sister or at least not a full sister.

“We are roommates. I’m not surprised Sting did not mention it. I ate his last boyfriend alive. So you are here for some groveling I see, along with Valentine’s gifts. Smart. You better not have cheated on him, or I will eat you alive too.”

Rogue felt a full body flushing coming on, pausing to listen to the well-manicured roommate’s dirge of information. Sting had literally talked for hours and hours and never mentioned a roommate, an ex or the fact that they were apparently dating?

“We are dating?” slipped out of Rogue’s mouth. A wicked smile curved her lips in a less-than-reassuring way and she offered a slender hand, “I am Minerva Orlando. It is a pleasure to finally meet the man of the legend in person, Rogue Cheney.”

“Min? Who’re you talking to? I thought you were getting ready to go out on your date!”

“Maybe you should get out of your boxers, put the tissues away and worry about your own date, moron. Your boyfriend’s here looking dapper with a box of candy and some roses after all.”

Rogue wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded better than what he actually looked like, so he kept quiet. He had the feeling she was hassling her roommate at his expense and enjoying every second of it.

“What?” Sting yelped from the other room, followed by the sound of crashing and stumbling then a hefty body hitting the wall so hard it shook at the impact. Much to Rogue’s relief, he did not appear in his boxers. Hair wild and in a hideous pair of sweats, Sting was shedding a trail of candy wrappers and swears behind him as he tore into the doorway. Seeing Rogue, his face went through a myriad of emotions before settling on sheepish for a long moment then he ran his fingers through his hair, trying for suave.

Minerva rolled her eyes, “Okay Casanova. I am going out on my date. No sex on the table.”

“Wha--” Sting sputtered, eyes wide, and Rogue wanted to melt into the shadows forever. That had definitely not been on his mind 3 seconds ago, and now he was having trouble focusing on what he came to do, remembering all those times he’d seen Sting in swim trunks and only swim trunks.

“Uh, hi,” Sting said uncertainly. “I kind of… thought you were done with me. I mean, at the swim meet… you were pretty clear.”

“We are dating?” was the only intelligent thing Rogue could say in response, everything all jumbled up. 

Sting scratched his cheek, “Ignore her. It sucks, but anytime I have a friend, she assumes I’m dating. Hazards of being gay with an aggressively supportive roommate, I guess.”

The front door slammed noisily, confirming Minerva had left the building.

“I brought you these… as an apology,” Rogue abruptly changed the subject, shoving the sweets and flowers at Sting unceremoniously. Not chocolates, not roses, that’d be Too Much, but it was a start. Sting took them awkwardly, that megawatt grin of his lighting up the room as he admitted while smelling the gift, “Never gotten flowers before. What do you do with them? Min! Min! Oh wait, she left… shit.” 

Snapping his fingers, he made a wait-here motion, disappearing back through the doorway and leaving Rogue standing in the hallway. Just as he was about to peer through the door, Sting returned, flowers shoved into a coffee mug with a crass saying printed across the front, still in the plastic sleeve and looking a bit bedraggled. He handed the whole thing back, making another motion, and disappearing in another direction.

The next time he emerged, he was changed and presentable.

“So… ready to go on a real date?” he asked with a smooth and causal tone that Rogue envied. Sting really did do things on the fly. “And I’m not just saying that because of Min. I was going to ask you at the pizza place weeks ago if you wanted to go out for real. Also, I’ve seriously been jonesing to kiss you this whole time, not going to lie. Your lips have been on my mind since day one.”

“Maybe you should fix that before we go out on our first real date then,” Rogue replied with a rare giddiness pulling the other man in to indulge in his fantasies.

This was totally Rogue’s day, and he was going to make the most of it.

#fairy tail #fanfic #stingue #fairyhearts2020

[niksixx]

Wait for Me in LA

Requested: By an Anon!

Pairing: The Dirt! Tommy Lee x Reader

Description: Could you do one where Nikki, Tommy, and the Reader (who is Vince's younger sibling) get arrested for trespassing or something stupid and then Vince is absolutely livid when he finds out? (Bonus: maybe add either Tommy or Nikki admitting they love the reader?

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

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“I can’t believe this. I expected this from Tommy and Nikki, but you?” Angrily pinching the bridge of his nose, Vince shook his head in disbelief. Steam was practically coming out of his ears as he looked at you with the most embarrassed expression you’d ever seen. Frowning, you glanced at Nikki and Tommy out of the corner of your eyes. All three of you had handcuffs around your wrists.

“We didn’t know it was forbidden property,” Tommy said. “Honestly.”

“You’re going to tell me you didn’t see the black and white “No Trespassing” sign?” The police officer rolled her eyes and looked at Vince, who in turn just shook his head.

All you, Nikki, and Tommy wanted to do was hide in an abandoned building for a smoke. The tour was in full swing it was hard to find down time to relax. You didn’t think the cops would pull up as soon as Tommy started climbing the fence.

“I’ll pay the bail, officer,” Vince spoke. He was glaring now, eyes burning into yours. You felt like a child who had been reprimanded for stealing candy.

“We still have to take ‘em down to the station, Mr. Neil,” The officer gave Vince a wary look.

“Fine,” He said, “Just give me a minute with my sister.” Vince grabbed your arm, pushing you to the corner of the street. Once you were out of earshot, Vince laid into you. “Are you fucking crazy? Trespassing? Really, Y/N? You’re nineteen years old, you shouldn’t be hanging out with my bandmates alone, number one, and number two, what exactly did you plan on doing?”

Blowing a strand of hair out of your face, you glanced up at your brother through your lashes. His face was bright red even in the darkness of the night and his fingers were digging into his hips. “We just wanted to smoke, Vinnie,” You rolled your wrists in the handcuffs, desperately trying to relieve some of the pain. “Are you going to tell mom and dad?”

Vince’s eyes practically rolled out of his head. Yeah, that may have been a stupid question. “No shit I’m going to tell mom and dad. If you’re old enough to get in trouble and locked up, you’re old enough to own up to the consequences. Once I bail your ass out of jail, you’re on the first flight back to LA.”

“Vince, no!” Pleading, you reached out for his arm. You tried getting him to face you, but his eyes were focused on the ground. The wheels were turning in his head. “You know I’ve been dying to get away--.”

“Well you fucked up,” Vince growled. “And now you can deal with it.”

~~~

“He’s bailing us out,” Nikki muttered, leaning his head against the wall. “Why do they need to put us in this cell?”

Leaning against the station’s cell, you noticed Tommy had been unusually quiet. His head was in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Sighing, you joined him on the metal bench. He perked up when you sat beside him. “Hey cutie.”

Grinning, your head fell against his shoulder. “Hi, Tommy.”

“So,” he said, rubbing his thighs. “How pissed is Vin?”

“Mad enough that he’s taking me straight to the airport after this,” Never before had you traveled to the east coast. Vince had agreed to fly you out for a few shows, but you were sure he was currently regretting that decision.

“Shit,” Tommy muttered. “Well, would now be the best time to tell you that I love you?”

Giggling, you punched Tommy’s side. “Stop it, Tommy. We’re currently in jail. This is no time for jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Your eyes met as you lifted your head slowly off Tommy’s shoulder. His smile was confident and his eyes were bright as the stars. “You…what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, lacing his fingers between yours. He squeezed your hand before tilting your chin. “A lot.”

“Where is this coming from?” You asked incredulously. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips watching a soft blush creep its way up Tommy’s neck.

“I’ve known since high school,” he whispered. “I haven’t wanted anyone else for years. Promise me you’ll wait for me in LA?”

And the kiss that followed sealed your promise.

#motley crue #the dirt movie #the dirt headcannon #the dirt actors #the dirt smut #the dirt concepts #the dirt imagines #the dirt boys #nikki sixx #douglas booth #vince neil #daniel webber #mick mars #iwan rheon #tommy lee #mgk #the dirt tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #the dirt!tommy lee

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~KISS AU writings 19~

The drama’s coming back full force!

~Shandi

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~MODEL AU Part 6~

Featured Pairing: Bruce Kulick/Paul Stanley

Special Guests: Mick Mars, Vince Neil

Summary: After going for days without working, Bruce finally gets a job offer from a surprising source. (told from Bruce’s POV)

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“I’d like to be alone for a while..” 

I look at Paul concerned as we pull up to his apartment. “A-are you sure?” He nods. “I need to take some time to think about things. From here on out Petey’s got us on probation. One slip up and we’re done for. We have to tread very carefully now.” That was definitely worrying. “Yeah..I understand. But..if you need to talk you can call me. You have my number.” He smiles at me, and I can tell it’s a genuine one. “Thanks, I’ll do that~” We switch seats and he drives me back to my apartment. Before I get out of the car I lean close to him, turning his face toward mine to kiss his lips. He’s definitely surprised but he doesn’t pull away. I’d hoped he wouldn’t. “Well then..if I don’t see you sooner I’ll see you for the next job I suppose.” Still too shocked to speak, he just nods in response. I wave to him and shut the door. It was a lot more fun that I expected it to be catching him off guard this time~ 

I wait patiently for a call for my next job, but one never comes. After a few days pass I start getting worried. It sure seems to me like Mr. Criss is punishing both of us for that stupid party incident. I don’t blame Paul of course. Everybody loses their temper sometimes. In Paul’s case it must have happened one too many times. I was starting to wonder if we actually still had jobs. When my phone finally does ring I jump about a foot in the air. Thank God! I pick up before it can ring a second time. “Hello?” 

“Is this Bruce Kulick?”

That’s..not Mr. Criss’ voice. “Yes? Who is this?” 

“This’s Mick Mars. I’m sure you remember me. I got a job for ya. Interested?”

I can’t believe my ears. Vince Neil’s agent is calling me. Haven’t these people ever heard of ‘conflict of interest’? “I’m not sure if I should, Mr. Mars..considering what happened..”

“It’s water under the bridge. Nobody even remembers anymore. I know you’re not officially on Catwalk’s payroll. You’re pretty much freelance. I wouldn’t have called ya if that weren’t the case.” 

Shit. He had a point. And a job is a job..no matter how much I don’t like who I’m working for. “Alright..what does this job involve?” 

“We got a fashion show coming up Friday night. I need photos. Good photos. How about it?” 

A fashion show, huh? Sounds simple enough. At least in a crowd of people I can keep the interactions between Vince and myself to a minimum. “Truthfully I don’t really have much of a choice. I haven’t done any photo work in almost a week. I’ll take it.” 

“Perfect~ The show’s at Sunset Theater. 51 Lincoln Boulevard in Santa Monica. Get there by 5:00.”

“Got it. I’ll see you then.” 

After I hang up I take a deep breath. Oh boy this whole situation is just screaming ‘deep trouble.’ But I need the work. All I can do is hope that I’m up to it..and that it doesn’t hurt Paul in the process. 

Friday afternoon I get a call while I’m packing up my equipment. I don’t want to be insensitive but I don’t have a lot of time to waste on the phone. I’m hoping I can keep it short. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Photopup it’s me~” 

Oh no. I was afraid of this. “Hey, Paul. How are you?” 

“Doing better. I found myself missing you so I thought I’d call. Can you come over?” 

I’m immediately overcome with guilt. “I-I’m sorry, Paul I wish I could..but I have a job to get to.” 

“Oh really? I hope they don’t think they can snatch you away from me~ What kind of job is it?” 

I don’t want to lie..but I feel like if I even mention Vince’s name he’ll freak out. “Taking photos for a fashion show.” 

“Ohhh I’m so jealous! I wish I could go..I haven’t been to a fashion show in months! Will you take some good photos just for me~?” 

I laugh. “Sure I can. If you don’t like them you have my permission to burn them~” It’s great to hear him laugh too.

“Believe me I am extremely picky about my fashion~ I’ll be sure to keep a pack of matches handy~” 

“Heck I might just help you~ How about I call you when I get home?” 

“I’d like that~”

“I’ll talk to you later tonight then..whenever that is.”

“I’ll be waiting~” 

I feel terrible about keeping the truth from him, but in this case I really think it’s for his own good. He has enough stress already. As I pack my cases into my car I pray that this night won’t become a total disaster. 

I’ve never been to a fashion show before. I have no idea what to expect. As I pass by the theater to pull into the parking lot I see the front on the building is packed with people. I hope I don’t have to try to get through there cause there’s no damn way. Getting out of my car with my cases I see Mr. Mars standing by a side entrance. When he sees me he waves to me. I wave back and hurry over to him. “Made good time.” he says, patting my shoulder. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you can set up.” He leads me down the hall where all the dressing rooms are. Everything the models are wearing screams ‘Vince Neil’. right down to their bleached blond wigs.  “Is..Vince going to be in the show, Mr. Mars?” He shrugs. “I dunno. He’s been known to make an appearance on the runway when the mood strikes him. Depends on if he has time. This is his show after all.” My eyes widen. “His show? He’s a model and a fashion designer?” 

“That’s right. He’s showin’ off his new summer line. If he does go out there make sure you get some photos. You can relax. He doesn’t know it’s you behind the camera.” That is absolutely a relief. “I appreciate that. I promise you’ll get my best.” Mr. Mars shows me to an area with a perfect view of the runway stage. “I got no doubts about that. When the show’s over you can just go on home and I’ll call ya Monday. Happy shooting, kid~” I hurry to set up before the lights go out. I’m already enjoying the rush of adrenaline I’m getting from the anticipation. I’ve missed that feeling~ When the show starts I look through the camera lens at the stage. Loud cheers erupt when the first of the models walks out. Vince certainly has a..unique sense of fashion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink, spandex and lace in all my life. And those wigs make them all look ridiculous. But the crowd is going crazy for it so what do I know? Towards the end of the show came the moment I was admittedly dreading. Vince himself walks down the runway..and even I have to admit that he looks hot as hell. He’s dressed in a white lace asymmetrical off the shoulder top, pink spandex and white lace leggings and pink boots, with white gloves, rhinestone studded suspenders, bracelet and collar, a pink scarf wrapped around his neck and a white lace garter belt around his hips. The crowd goes wild for him and gives him a standing ovation while he smiles, waves and blows kisses at them. The cheers die down when he’s given a microphone. 

“I want to thank everyone personally for coming here tonight! Seeing all of you out there loving me so deeply gets me all hot and bothered~ Decadence will be in all the biggest fashion stores this summer and I know you want it!!”  

The crowd roars again. Vince stands there with his arms stretched out and just soaks in all of their admiration like a sponge. When people aren’t blocking I take a few shots of him just for the hell of it. I’m sure he’d want pictures of himself. For the finale he brings all of his models back out onto the stage. The perfect opportunity to grab some wide shots. I’m sure Mr. Mars will like these~ Once the show winds down and everyone is getting up to leave I pack up my equipment and head back to my car. I didn’t think I’d enjoy the show but I honestly did. I wouldn’t mind doing more jobs like that~ While I’m packing my trunk I think about how much fun it will be to develop the photos.

“You know..Mick’s smart and all but he can’t hide as much form me as he thinks he can~” 

I turn to see Vince standing beside me. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes that I instantly don’t like. Shit. I guess I didn’t make as clean a getaway as I thought..

To be Continued!!

#Shandi's drabbles #KISS AU writings #Supermodel StarChild~ #Malibu Barbie is at it again!