#80s rock fan fic

[thesmokingguns]

Accidents Happen

Rewrite of Kitten

Warning: Minors DNI 18+ Sex, cum play, breeding kink, dirty talk, possession kink, degradation, rough sex

“That’s my girl. Fuck kitten.” Nikki had you riding on his lap, one arm around your waist to squeeze your pinned arms in place and help keep you steady as your thighs and hips controlled the movements. Forced to ride his cock, up and down in a steady motion he had you doing. Your body aching as it moved for him. Needing him to tell you what to do so you could please him. Knowing better than to stop.

He was pushing up into you, fast and deep thrusts as you lost all train of thought and just let him fuck you. The way you moved sloppier as he took over, the wetness of your pussy creaming over his shaft as the wet sounds of your pleasure and him filling you echoed through the bedroom. Your nipples were taunt, dragging across his chest into erotic points of pleasure that were stimulated by you riding him.

He flipped you, pressing your knees into the mattress, taking your hands behind your lower back and holding you in position as he smacked your ass, watching it turn bright pink and bounce back to meet his thrusts. He was so deep inside of  you, your toes curling with pleasure from the feeling of him filling you. Deeper and deeper with each needy thrust.

It wasn’t until he warned you, in that deep grumble of a voice, that he was going to cum that something snapped in your brain and you thought of the tin foil packet still filled with little pills.

“Don’t. No. Nikki STOP!” Your words fell on deaf ears as you tried to wiggle off him but his other arm wrapped around you, sealing you in place as he pressed himself deeper into you, cock letting out spurts of hot cum as your body yearned to cum around him, “I forgot my birth control,” and at that he released you, letting you fall back into the bed, seeing the fierce anger in his eyes as he looked at the pitiful display of your used body.

“You have one job and you can’t even fucking do that.” He sneered it out, wiping his wet cock against the back of your thighs. Reducing your body to a nothing object. You were his cum rag, used to clean his spent cock.

Nikki could turn and be mean when he felt like things were out of his control. You usually took things and made him feel better and he would repay you tenfold. But when his eyes darkened like they had now you knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy punishment.

Cum dripped down your thighs as you literally drooled on the sheets so fucked out that you were mindless and thinking of yourself as an object for the man and no longer a person, groaned as you felt Nikki’s finger slide inside of your used cunt. You ached around him, raw from the rough drawn out sex. Tender cunt throbbing around his fingers and clamping down from habit around him. Pulling more of his cum out with his two fingers, curling them in a come here motion tha had your over stimulated g-spot sending signals to your brain that had your eyes crossing, pulling from you what he had left behind moments before.

The cum was wiped on your thighs, sticky and wet. Sore form hom Nikki was scratching across the backs of them as he used your body like a towel. He was taking his cum from you and using it as a punishment. You wondered if he would let it dry there, like stains serving as a warning for what a dirty girl you were.

“I’m sorry daddy.” You said with a sob as he prodded your sore walls with his fingers and caused another whimper of pain and shame from your lips. He wasn’t taking it easy on you and the frustration he had for you was rolling out of him and was causing this tension in the bedroom. And you wanted to go back, do anything to make him happy.

Nikki just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he looked at you, the way you were pressed against the sheets and being still, afraid to move because he was furious at you. Pussy achy and leaking cum as his fingers left you, a few globs of his cum coming out and making the wet spot grow underneath you as the cum that missed the skin of your thighs fell to the sheets. Or the cum dripped down, over your thighs and past the back of your knees, wetting the sheets you were kneeling on.

“So pathetic.” He muttered, finally speaking as you feared the aftermath of your mistake, “You forget your birth control today and now I have to clean your filthy pussy for you after you take all my cum like a good girl?” he paused for a second and it was so quiet you knew only something bad could happen from him. How mad was he for you forgetting?, “You know what, no. You want to be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like that” You sniffled a sob out, hating when he was mad at you and wanting to go back to him taking pleasure from your body. Be his good little girl taking his cock again..

The head of Nikki’s cock was at your entrance pressing inside of you as he once more started to fuck you. The soreness from his fingers, inside of your body stretched raw and painful around the girth of his cock, whimpering at the full stretch of him once more filling you with his body. Your body was already clutching around him and squeezing as you got used to him fucking you again. No time to recover and just used up like his personal sex toy. Your favorite thing to be.

“We’re not going to clean up your dirty little pussy anymore. You want to forget your birth control? Daddy is going to put a baby inside of you and show you there are consequences for your actions.” You whimpered as he slammed into you, not taking it easy on you like you wanted him to do. This wasn’t love making but this was a punishment fuck and you were very aware that this was to show you how easily he could use you.

Hard fast fucking where he didn’t care about your orgasm and slapped your hands away when you tried to touch the spot between your legs to give yourself a bit of pleasure if he wasn’t going to make the effort on it. This fuck wasn’t for you but this was for him to take out his frustration on you. Using you as he wanted to; you were just a hole at the moment to him. He had you bent, folded like a throw blanket on the bed as he thrust so deep inside of you your stomach hurt from the impact.

His cum once more filled you as he slapped inside of you, cock draining into you as you wondered how he managed to cum so much and if you were going to be forced to clean him out of you yourself.

“What do you say?” Nikki asked, pulling out as you whimpered at the burn of him moving out of you. Your body is so used to his by now that the sore skin didn’t know what to do without some part of his body pressed against it. His fingers now pushing the cum he had been taking out of you now being pushed back inside, making sure you were stuffed with it.

“Thank you daddy.” The words managed to squeak out from between your lips and you felt his smile without seeing it. Knowing he was smiling at you eased your worrying.

Something about breeding you softened Nikki and he was laying beside you, stroking your hips with the tips of his fingers, fingers brushing over your belly as he laid beside you, holding your knees to your chest so that he gave his swimmers time to swim up and do what he wanted them to do..

“Stop taking your birth control, okay? I want to put a baby in you. I’ll take care of you both, you just worry about staying healthy. Okay, darling?” You nodded, tired and needing him to love you, he could sense that, “Close your eyes and get some rest, we’re going to be very busy.” He warned, knowing that now that he had the idea of breeding you in his mind he wasn’t going to be able to stop until it was done..

#Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx fan fic #Nikki Sixx Motley Crue #nikki sixx fan fiction #nikki sixx fanfiction #Nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixxx #siXXX #Daddy Sixx #motley crue fic #Motley Crue fan fic #Motley Crue fanfic #Motley Crue fan fiction #80s rock #80s rock fan fic

[ascendthisday]

That Time

Pairing: Duff McKagan/Steven Adler

Word Count: 4,600~

Info: No Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Drug Use, Overdosing, Songfic, Teeth, Smoking, Blood, Nosebleed, Kissing, Almost death

Summary: “Duff! Look at this!” Steven squealed, his blond mop of hair shaking with his exaggerated nodding as he pointed at the pavement with excitement. He had run a few yards ahead of the other man, so Duff had to jog to catch up with him. Duff’s obnoxiously loud chained belt jingled against his leather pants every thickly soled step he made. “Huh,” He hummed as he stared down at the concrete, touching hips with the drummer, “that’s weird.”

Authors Note: been a busy busy bee lately, sorry for not posting! getting back into the general glide of things though, so expect more in the next few weeks!! this is old, but good nonetheless

Hey, remember that time when I found a human tooth

Down on Delancey? 

      “Duff! Look at this!” Steven squealed, his blond mop of hair shaking with his exaggerated nodding as he pointed at the pavement with excitement. He had run a few yards ahead of the other man, so Duff had to jog to catch up with him. Duff’s obnoxiously loud chained belt jingled against his leather pants every thickly soled step he made. “Huh,” He hummed as he stared down at the concrete, touching hips with the drummer, “that’s weird.” On the ground sat two yellowed human teeth. They were wedged in the crack between the sidewalk's concrete panels, surrounded by weeds and grass that had managed to shimmy their way into the crevice. It was almost as if they had been pulled directly from the root with their long prong-esque legs still attached. Steven folded himself in half, his leather jacket sliding up his shoulders and his wild mess of hair curtaining around his face, and swept the teeth into his hands. 

      “Ew, man! Gross!” Duff groaned as Steven tucked the teeth into the back pocket of his jeans. “Hey, you never know when you might need some teeth. Maybe they’ll be my good luck charm- or something like that.” He giggled as he stared at himself in the reflection of the bassist's sunglasses. “Maybe, or they’ll give you AIDs.” The taller man retorted. Steven frowned, pulling the usual grin he sported off of his mouth immediately. Duff knew how he felt about those jokes; his history, why would he say that? The tooth discussion didn’t linger on much longer, though. Instead, they walked back to their home, the ‘hell house’ in all of its glory, clouded by an awkward aura of- well- something indescribable.   

Hey, remember that time when we decided to kiss anywhere except the mouth? 

      That aura tugged down on their shoulders until they wandered into Steven’s rather unclean bedroom. It wasn’t disgusting- more so an organized mess. Things were piled up in thick hills along the floor, but had you asked Steven to bring you even the tiniest pin, he could find it in seconds. He was just special in that way. “I’m sorry,” Duff mumbled as he wrapped himself around the smaller man. His warm body heat seeped through his own t-shirt and Steven's layers of leather and cotton. “‘s okay,” Steven murmured back as he took a handful of steps toward his mattress, twirled himself- and Duff around, and fell backward on top of the lanky man. “Oh!” Duff huffed as the wind was knocked out of him. He sputtered out stringy waves of blond and lightly shoved Steven off of him. The drummed grinned and rolled himself onto his side, propping his head up onto his hand. 

     “I’m bored. Let’s play a game!” Steven whined and playfully batted his eyelashes at the man. “Whaddya thinkin’ of?” The bassist responded as he pulled off his sunglasses and placed them atop his head. “Kiss me. Kiss me anywhere except my lips.” He grinned. Duff gave him a little smirk, pushed Steven over, threw his lanky legs over his waist, and began to assault him with kisses while straddling him. He kissed along his shoulders. Then, pulled up his shirt to pepper soft pecks against his fishnet-covered ribs. Next, his navel. As he slid lower and lower down the drummer's body, his kisses trailed onto his jeans and down his thighs. Floaty giggles echoed around the room as Steven relished the feeling of Duff’s chapped lips against his ankles. “Don’t- Don’t kiss my toes!” Steven yelped between flurried hiccups as Duff got closer and closer to the skin that was concealed in his dirty Converse.  

Hey, remember that time when my favorite colors was pink and green? 

     Duff obeyed and kissed his way back up Steven's body, trailing directly on top of the previous kisses he had left just mere moments ago. Unlike his previous endeavors, Duff kissed past his shoulders and danced his way down his arms, one at a time. He placed sweet little pecks to the respective heart and drumstick on each shoulder when the time came. Steven let out soft little puffs of air as his heart dramatically thumped against his ribcage. Sure, they were intimate in a lot of ways, but something about this was different. It was almost romantic. Duff trailed through his downy arm hair and to his thickly decorated wrists. “Pink,” Duff whispered, holding one of his thin wrists in his palm, “and green.” He pulled both wrists together and held the colors side by side. “Our favorite!” Steven cheekily smiled at the bassist. 

     Duff blushed, remembering that the thin twine bracelets had originally been a matching set shared between the two of them, but the thread was too itchy for Duff, so Steven settled on wearing both of them. The jewelry was originally bought by Slash, a gift that he had justified with a snarky remark along the lines of 'If you guys wanna act like a couple so much, you should go ahead and be part of a pair,’ which was backhanded yet sweet. A lot of things Slash said were like that, twisted in some way or another. Duff didn’t even really like green that much, but he knew Steven loved pink, so he compromised. Since then, Steven had been convinced that green was his favorite color ever. He never complained. The bassist grinned back at him as he placed a final kiss on Steven's fingertip. Then, he pulled away and sat upright, just for a moment. As soon as he was fully up, he was back down with his lips centimeters away from Stevens. The drummer squeaked and blinked his eyes. Hard.  

Hey, remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines? 

So cheap and juicy! 

Tangerines. 

     “Do you think I’ve earned a kiss on the mouth yet?” Duff hummed as his breath ghosted against Steven's lips. “Your breath tastes like oranges- no, tangerines! Are you doing that thing where that's all you eat again?” Steven let out a nervous chortle as he jokingly licked at the air. Duff dramatically threw his head back and groaned. “That was one time, man!” He hissed as his sunglasses slid off of his head. “Damn it.” The older man groaned and awkwardly grasped around the area behind him. Unfortunately for both of them, the area behind Duff happened to be Steven's waistband. “My dick!” he yelped, shooting forward at the sudden pain that raced through his torso. Duff didn’t have time to react to his sudden screech Steven lurched forward and smacked his head straight into his nose. 

     “Fuck!” Duff exclaimed and slid back while desperately holding his nose. Big tears bubbled over his waterline immediately. “Oh- baby, shit. I'm sorry. Let me see.” Steven rambled as he sat up and pulled away his worn hands. Duff nervously combed his fingers through his blond hair, smearing red through his gold and black mane. “Is it bad?” He whimpered. “No, it’s um, it’s fine. You’ll probably just have a little bump or something.” Steven desperately stumbled over his words. He knew Duff’s nose would most definitely leave with more than ‘just a little bump,’ but that wouldn’t make anything better. His hands shakily wiped away the blood from his upper lip. “It’s fine,” Steven reassured him and wiped a little bit of crimson away and onto Duff’s shirt. His tears puddled into dark spots on his already black shirt. It didn’t even hurt that bad! He wasn’t sure why he was crying. The bassist nervously wiped his clammy hands onto his leather slacks, leaving a trail of wet condensation on his thighs.  

Hey, remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare? 

     “It’s not bad, I swear. It’s kind of silly!” He awkwardly chuckled and held Duff’s head in his palms. “Silly? Kind of like your Shakespearean phase?” Duff grinned through his soft tears and bloody nose, a little bit of both haphazardly dripping into his open-mouthed grin. Steven nodded and pressed their lips together. His calloused fingers swept away his blubbery tears before loosely intertangling his fingers to the roots of his black-streaked blond hair. Duff let out little puffy moans into his mouth, occasionally shaking the both of them with little hiccuped sobs. Copper, iron, and whatever other metallic tastiest were out there flooded Steven's mouth. It was gross, but so were they! Their tongues lightly teased against either one, not fighting for dominance but simply prodding against each other.  Steven pulled away with a sweet slightly rust-colored smile. 

     “Exactly. Just like when I would only read Shakespeare.” Duff smiled back and let out a shaky sigh. The bassists’ palms found themself lightly rested upon his chest, running through his coarse chest hair through his fishnet top. The drummer chuckled at the contact, shivering at his warm hands against his cold skin. His slightly dirty fingernails drew deep swirls along his skin. Steven sighed and pulled off his leather jacket, throwing it off into the mess that was his room. It smacked against the carpet with a thick thump. They sat there, staring into each other's eyes. “I think all the blood loss is making me stupid,” Duff murmured, “stupider.” He pushed his head into the crook of Steven's neck. “Hey! If anyone here is the stupid one, it’s me!” Steven chuckled and placed a kiss on the side of Duff’s mouth, lightly pulling his head away from his neck with a fistful of hair. The crusted blood on his upper lip awkwardly began to dry and crack as Duff became more talkative, but he still looked gorgeous. He never looked bad, not to Steven at least.  

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments? 

     “I need a smoke.” Duff sighed. “Oh! Oh- I’ve got you, man.” The drummer grinned, shoving the lanky man off of him. He scrambled toward the headboard of his bed- or where it would be, had he had one. Steven shuffled through the gunk shoved between the wall and his mattress before triumphantly pulling out three different cigarette boxes and a baggie. “Take your pick.” Steven placed his assorted white boxes- and bag into Duff’s lap. He hummed back and stared at the random smokes.  “How did you end up with such a variety?” He snorted, picking up the Parliament lights first. The light blue stared back at him as he knocked back the top of the box. “Oh- every time I hook up with a chick at her place when she goes to piss, I hunt for cigarettes and whatever else I can find. Normally, they don’t say nothing!” Duff fished his lighter out of the pocket of his slacks and plucked out one of the white tubes. Tucking it safely between his teeth, Duff flicked his lighter one, twice and successfully inhaled a lungful of smoke. 

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros? 

      Sour grey fled from Duff’s lips as he exhaled. Steven leaned over and pulled out the red-dipped Marlboro box. “Lemme see your light.” He grunted, putting out a flat palm toward Duff and grabbing at the air. Duff chuckled and dropped the piece of purple translucent plastic into his hand, exhaling little puffs of smoke. “So, what's in the bag?” Duff questioned, holding the opaque plastic up and giving it a little shake. “Huh. I dunno!” Steven shrugged and lit the cigarette held haphazardly between his lips. The orangeish filter peeked out from his mouth. “How the hell do you not know? Can I look?” The older man spewed questions at him, already tugging off the rubber band that kept the baggie closed. 

     His sudden wonder at the drummer's baggie of secrets made him want to get up and bombard the bassist with every ounce of love he had, but for some reason, he wanted to come off as cool. He didn’t know why. Duff had seen him at his absolutely dorkiest moments. Steven just nodded, pulling the cigarette from his lips to puff smoke at Duff. “C’mon, it’s a surprise! Don’t play bored, you wanna know what's in it just as bad as I do.” He giggled and waved the accumulating cloud of smoke away from his face. Stevens' cooled facade broke at the bassist's ever-so-sweet chuckle, making him also burst into ever-so-familiar giggles.  

Hey, remember that time when I was broke? 

I didn't care; I just bummed from my friends

Bum bum bum bum bum

Bum bum bum bum bum 

      Duff finally got the stubborn baggie open and was instantly excited by what he saw. A loose mixture of random cigarettes and joints freely blended among each other. “Oh! You know what, that’s where I put all of my random shit. Most of it is like- hand rolled and homegrown and all of that organic shit.” Steven explained as he snatched the bag from his hands and pulled out a rather pathetic looking joint. “Some of our peers cannot roll for shit! Not saying who but his name may or may not rhyme with uh- Paxil Hose.” The drummer giggled and placed one of the tan, thinly rolled joints in Duff’s palm. “Oh, damn. That is plain sad, man.” He mumbled as he examined it between two fingers. Haphazardly, he ashed his cigarette on Steven's mattress, to which he groaned but remained wordless, and placed the joint between his now empty lips. The paper was ever so slightly unraveling on the side, so Duff licked out a small line against the rolling paper. Steven grinned at the thin smell of weed that hazed around the room as Duff brought his lighter to the twisted tip of the joint. 

    Duff inhaled a thick gasp of smoke and held it in. One, two, three. Then, he exhaled a small handful of coughs. “Shit. This shit is… Jesus! Nasty.” He sputtered and placed the blunt between Steven's v-shaped fingers. The drummer pulled the cigarette from between his lips and carefully slotted it between Duff’s lips. He gently and carefully enclosed them around it. The familiar, safe tobacco clouded his mouth as he inhaled. Steven took a thick mouthful of smoke from the joint. Duff was right, it was like- putrid. God, what the hell kind of dank did Axl have in his possession? “Fuck! Ew.” He coughed and groaned while ruffling his hands through his wiry mane. The slowly burning joint inches just a centimeter too close to his hair and burnt away a few hairs before Duff noticed. “Steven- Steven!” Duff yelped, swatting at his hair. “You’re gonna fuckin’ catch yourself on fire, man.” He chuckled, wiping away at the singed hair near his temple. 

Hey, remember that time when you OD'ed? 

     “Fuck. Is it cold in here, or is that just me? It’s like- I dunno- I can’t breathe. Somethin’ on my chest.” Duff slurred, flexing his quickly numbing fingers. “You okay?” Steven questioned, spitting it out. A thin sheen of sweat licked across Duff’s clammy skin. He felt as if his brain was leaking from his ears. “Duff?” Steven questioned and grabbed his face with one hand. “Dude- speak to me here. You’re freaking me out.” A big nervous smile crept up upon his lips as he gripped Duff’s shoulder. Duff didn’t respond. Instead, his head just lolled off to the side. When the fuck had he passed out? “Duff!” He hissed. “Duff, get up. This isn’t fucking funny.” He smacked the side of his feverish cheek, desperately waiting for his eyes to flutter open. But, they didn’t. He was still breathing small shallow breaths. His heart was still thumping under Steven’s palm, which had snaked down to his left breast to feel his heartbeat because, well, Steven didn’t know where the hell a pulse point was!  

     “Axl! Slash! One of you get the fuck in here! Get the damn phone!” Steven screeched, his brain finally catching up on the fact that Duff had overdosed. It was weird because Steven wasn’t overdosing. Had he not taken the exact same shit? He felt fine, barely even high. So what the hell had happened? He truly didn’t know. Finally, Axl skittered down the hallway, dressed only in a big graphic shirt, his red boxers, and tube socks with their shared janky Motorola DynaTAC in hand. “What? What? The hell is happening?” He groaned, sleep-laced voice croaking mid-sentence. His fists rubbed at his eyes for a moment. “Oh. Shit.” He cursed, taking in Duff’s slightly blue drool-coated lips. It’s almost as if he was snapped away. Axl feverishly punched in ‘9-1-1’ into the phone as he muttered under his breath. 

    This freaked Steven the fuck out, more so than he already was. Big fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks as he held the bassist to his chest. “If you die, I’ll kill myself just to kill you again.” He hiccuped into his blond hair while Axl grumbled out their address to the operator on the other end of the phone. “Hey, Stevie, roll him on his side, will ya? Thanks.” Axl barked as he shoved himself into a pair of jeans, the phone still propped up to his ear with his shoulder. “No- no not you, my roommate. Why would I tell you that?” He groaned at the phone, his voice becoming quieter and quieter as he receded into the other end of the house in search of his sneakers. Steven sat there, silent. Simply waiting. Luckily for him and Duff, when the men plucked out their home from the many selections they were given they chose the one closest to the local emergency room. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared sometimes.  

Hey, remember that other time when you OD'ed for the second time? 

      The door was opened and Duff was gone before Steven could think about it too much. He saw the paramedics. He knows they flashed a light in his eyes and murmured something about ‘fentanyl' while ushering him onto a stretcher. He knows that he told them too much about Duff- like that he had seven siblings and that his favorite color was green while frantically showing these strangers his bracelets. Axl had come mid-rant and told Steven to go put on his shoes- despite him already having them on so that he could actually give them Duff’s information. During this, Steven ran circles around the house, desperately looking for something- anything to do. Then, it clicked. Paper. He licked the paper. Steven wasn’t sure he had ever run so fast. “Axl- he- the paper! Duff licked it.” He blubbered, grabbing the ginger man by the shoulders. Axl grunted and placed his hands on Steven’s shoulders, mimicking his pose. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Slow down, calm yourself and tell me in the car.” The vocalist spoke, rubbing Steven's shoulders. This was probably the nicest he had ever been to Steven. 

     The drummer scrambled to get in Axl’s janky Chevrolet Cavalier. The two of them rushed to the car. Though Steven was quicker in his movements, Axl moved with just as much urgency. Axl didn’t bother to get buckled. It was a short ride and hell, they were already going to the hospital anyways! With the speed he rushed to get buckled, Stevens' fishnet shirt got buckled in with him, the belt interlacing between the wide diamonds of thread. He ripped the shirt out of it, leaving a wide hole next to his ribs. The car was technically new, yes, but the thing was a fourth of the original price because half of the parts had already been stripped for cash. So, it barely sputtered to life. They weren’t quite sure how it was still running. Axl drummed his palms against the wheel as he backed out of their driveway.  

     “Okay. Spill.” He sighed out, pushing softly on the gas. The car couldn’t go a mile over 30, or it’d die on them. “So- um, y’know that one joint you gave me a few weeks ago?” Steven nervously wrung his hands. “Excuse me? The one that went fucking missing? You asshole! You told me you didn’t touch that shit when it went missing!” Axl screeched. “Okay failure on my behalf to mention that. Oops. Anyways- um do you know where the weed- or the paper came from?” He sheepishly continued, staring at Axl’s clenched jaw. “I dunno- some chick. Sophia or something.” He groaned, sensing that he knew exactly where this was going. “Okay well, Sophia was out to get you or something because it was starting to unravel in his hand n’ then he licked it and- I think he felt fine when he took a hit, and then he was all hauled ass up!” Steven rambled as the car screeched to a halt. The parking job was shit, neither of them had even really realized they had gotten to the hospital yet. “Shit. Shit. Okay- fuck! We’re here.” Axl hissed as he backed out of the car, Steven shortly following suit. 

Well, in the waiting room while waiting for news of you

I hallucinated I could read your mind 

They didn’t talk during the walk inside, nor did they talk while Axl explained their situation to the sweet old receptionist. Thick honey-like tension dripped from both of them. Not only was Duff quite literally in the hospital, but Steven also had sticky fingers! In his defense, he didn’t mean to steal it. Sometimes, you’re just a little absent-minded. It happens to like- everyone. No Biggie. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Axl finally spoke with a heavy sigh. “I dunno,” Steven replied as he picked through the handful of magazines on a side table. Truth be told, he could care less about whatever celebrity drama was happening right now, but what else could he do? They were quite literally sitting ducks. The receptionist had told Axl that she’d call out his name as soon as she knew Duff was conscious and visitable, but for now, they should just wait. For a while, sitting down was fine. 

     Then, this dull poking sensation in Steven's buttocks got unbearable, so he stood up and fished whatever it was out of his back pocket. “My teeth!” He grinned, holding the yellow enamel in his palm. “What the fuck!” Axl yelped as he stared down at the two teeth that sat in Steven’s palm. “Me n’ Duff found ‘em earlier. I think they’re lucky.” He smiled, giving them a small shake. In reality, if they were anything, they’d be unlucky. How else could he explain that his best friend overdosed mere hours after they discovered them? It’s fine. Axl didn’t need to know that! “You’re fucking gross.” He grumbled, throwing himself down onto one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs. It was Steven’s turn to get up and pace back and forth. He rubbed the teeth around in his palm as he burned a hole in the tiles. Occasionally, his converse would let out a grotesque squeak which was followed by a large grey scuff across the floor and he’d mutter out a sheepish apology. His feet never stopped moving. With his teeth in hand, Steven prayed for the first time in years. Unfortunately, his mind wandered too often to have a focused prayer session. 

     ‘God if you hear this, can you get Duff out of this god-awful place already? It smells so fake- sterilized? Is that a word? Thanks. Could you imagine if I could read Duff's mind? That’s crazy. I bet he’s dreaming about screwing some broad or something. I wish I had arm candy as often as he did. I want candy. God- please grant me the wish to have even just a dollar in my wallet. I want a Snickers bar, dude! I’m tired. Anyways- back to Duff. When he gets out of here, you should give us some cash to go to Burger King or something. Hide it under the couch, if you’re even listening. Thanks, God.’  

     That was Stevens' exact thought process. Thank God for simple-minded men, such as Steven Adler.  

And I was on a lot of shit too, but what I saw, man, I tell you it was freaky 

      “Michael Andrew McKagan? Is there someone here for a- uh, Michael Andrew McKagan?” A nurse in polka-dotted scrubs questioned. Axl raised his hand, got out of his seat, grabbed Steven by the wrist, and led him through the white hospital hallway. “Doctors, man. They make me so nervous.” Steven hissed, using his free hand to wipe his hair out of his face. “Oh, I can tell. You’re soaked in sweat.” Axl grinned back, just as sardonic as ever. He sputtered. Steven wasn’t actually sure how Axl knew where to go. Either Axl could actually read people's minds, or Steven had just zoned out on the part where the nurse told them where to go. It’s probably the latter. That vague, sad crying noise that every hospital seemed to have echoed around the stark halls as they reached the door. The drummer felt nauseous but, hey, someone else in the facility probably felt worse! So, he didn’t feel as if his situation was all that bad after all. I mean, unless you count almost killing your best friend as bad, Then it was horrible. 

     “I’ll let you have your little sappy moment, try to make it quick, though. On the way home, we can grab fast food or something.” Axl coughed, standing outside the door like a guard dog. Maybe God had listened, after all. Steven stood still for a moment as he grasped the cool metal doorknob, just gazing at himself in the reflection. He looked like a mess, at least he did from the awkward angle that the silver knob was at. The slightly burnt spot in his hair looked more obnoxiously obvious. He shoved the teeth back into his pocket. Finally, he pushed the door open. Duff looked- well, better than expected, but still rough. “Steven!” He croaked from his spot in the bed, raising his IV’ed arms at him. The idea of a hug from the bassist was ever so beckoning, but terrifying at the same time. “I’m not gonna break, probably, c’mon man!” He grinned. Steven mimicked his beam and rushed at the man. A blur of blond hair, denim, and fishnet stormed across the floor impossibly fast. The two of them giggled as they became entangled with each other. “Are you crying?” Duff mumbled into his wild hair.  

     “Man, shut up, Michael.” 

     “Don’t call me that! Asshat.” Duff teased. Steven didn’t even know his name was ever anything other than Duff, he didn't look like a ‘Michael’. “You look like shit, sorry about y’know,” Steven paused as he stared up at him, “everything.” Duff just smiled down at him and reassuringly rubbed his back. Whoever had cleaned him up had wiped away the crusted blood on his upper lip. His lips were more red; properly colored. He looked alive, once more. “It’s whatever. I was already a little wasted when we left the house, anyways. Whatever the hell was in that joint did not mix well with the shit I had already taken.” He giggled, resting his chin on top of Steven’s head. 

     “Axl’s here, y’know? He cried a little bit, I think.”  

     “Oh, like this is the first overdose he’s witnessed in this band!” 

Freaky.

#fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #fiction #rock rpf #rpf #regina spektor #songfic #steven adler #duff mckagan #steven adler/duff mckagan #gnr #guns n roses fic #guns n' roses #guns n roses #80s rock #rock n roll #drug overdose #od #tw drugs #fan fiction #sfw #how do i tag lmao #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #old but gold #steven adler x duff mckagan #80s #80s bands #80s fic

[valeriianz]

A playlist just filled to the brim with vibes and vibrations for Endless in my Dreamling Band AU. I've never made a playlist for a fanfic, but found myself cataloging all the music I'd been listening to while figuring out what Endless in my story might sound like. It's fun too, because every single song here could have been picked by each of the members (Dream, Desire, Death, Despair, and Delirium). Associating which tracks belong to which member of Endless is up to interpretation!

Here's a YouTube playlist if you prefer that :)

#the sandman #dreamling #the endless #fic: Bolt in the Blue #now im thinking about making a more specific playlist... #maybe one for Hob as well #but honestly his playlist would just be an 80s classic rock station #most of these songs were chosen purely for the way they sound #it's not that deep #i can just picture Dream sitting in a corner with fat headphones #listening to IAMX and Alice Cooper #Desire cranking it to Billy Idol and Palaye Royale #and Delirium dancing to that cover of Maniac and also Billy Idol haha #and Death is a huge LPX fan #enjoy the tunes! #musik

[dyk3medown]

cherry pie

steve harrington x reader

summary: steve loves going down on you. like, really loves it.

warnings: fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, steve is a fucking champ at eating pussy, hair pulling, fun lil pet names, hints of a praise kink

a/n: i had a couple requests for just general smuttiness with steve so here y'all go! also, i’m a big fan of classic rock so i love being able connect a fic to an 80’s rock song. this is partially inspired by cherry pie by warrant which fucking slaps to this day

smut below the cut!

Steve Harrington is a certified fiend™︎ when it comes to going down on you. You’ve had other partners who were pretty enthusiastic, but no one could measure up to Steve, who would probably eat you out 24/7 if he could. And he’s tried.

He once went down on you for almost two hours, and you swear you actually passed out at the end of it, absolutely wrecked by the many orgasms he had pulled from you with his skillful tongue.

You’re lying on his bed, naked from the waist down with one of Steve’s old shirts bunched up around your waist. Steve is in his favorite position, nestled between your thighs. He presses a few kisses to your inner thigh, moving steadily closer to where you want him.

“Steve,” you whine, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Patience, pretty girl.” He moves until his mouth is just centimeters away and the feeling of his breath puffing over your clit is enough to make you shiver.

Steve finally closes the distance, licking a stripe up your slit and swirling his tongue over your clit when he reaches the top. A loud moan rips from your chest, and he hums in appreciation.

“Good girl,” Steve pulls back to speak. “Let me hear all those pretty noises.”

He dives back in, and you cry out as he goes at you with all the enthusiasm of a man starved.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good.” You tug at the roots of his hair, and Steve groans, the vibrations sending a shock through you.

He runs his tongue down to your entrance and thrusts it in. You can’t help the sounds escaping you, too caught up in the pleasure you’re feeling. You’re practically dripping, and Steve eagerly laps up the wetness seeping out from inside you, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

“Can't get enough of this pussy, taste so good, so fucking sweet.” Steve prods at your entrance with two fingers. You’re wet enough from his spit and your own arousal that they slip in with no resistance. His fingers are thick, much larger than your own, and you cry out at the delicious stretch. “Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well.”

“Steve, please!” You cant your hips upwards, trying to get his mouth back on you. He obliges, tongue pressing firmly against your clit as he starts moving his fingers in and out, curling them up to hit that special spot inside you.

Your thighs start shaking as you quickly approach your climax, moaning and whining uncontrollably.

“Fuck, gonna cum, Steve!” You cry out as he speeds up his movements, throwing you over the edge. You clench down on his fingers as you cum, grinding your hips desperately into his mouth.

Steve doesn’t stop even as you come down from your high, still thrusting his fingers in and out as he licks at your clit. Your thighs clamp around his head as the pleasure becomes borderline painful, and he takes out his fingers to push them down, forcing your legs open.

Steve attacks your clit with renewed vigor, groaning as you gently pull at his hair. Heat floods through you as you notice him rutting his hips into the mattress, desperately trying to get some friction on his neglected cock.

“You’re doing so well baby, making me feel so good.” Steve’s hips stutter at the praise, clearly enjoying what you’re saying. “You always make me feel so good.”

You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach again, and you start moving your hips against Steve’s mouth, practically riding his tongue.

Your fingers tighten in his hair as the feelings take you over, sending you into your second orgasm of the night.

Steve moans with you as you cum, grinding down into the mattress frantically.

He finally pulls back, swiping a hand over his chin which had become slick with the evidence of your arousal. You sit up with him, moving onto his lap as you bring your lips to his. You can taste yourself on Steve’s tongue, and you can’t deny that it turns you on.

You reach down to cup him through his pants only to find a wet spot where you were expecting a familiar hardness.

Steve’s face floods with color as you realize what happened.

“Aw, did you cum in your pants? Just from going down on me?” You coo at him in mock sympathy.

His blush deepens, but he grins at you, evidently not too embarrassed. “What can I say, gorgeous? You just taste too good.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington

[brucewaynehater101]

What music genres do you think the batfam members listen to?I ask this because of how little Alternative music fan headcannons there are. I personally think Tim enjoys grunge and or nu metal(Specifically bands like limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, Korn, and System of a Down)

I'm not too familiar with genres, so I'll be giving this my best shot. I typically listen to music by the vibe it gives. My playlists include music that makes my brain go brr (the nice dissociation), songs for muses, ones to scandalize my mother, music a garage band would play, songs that make God fear me, and a long playlist for pleasant company.

Anyways, I've seen a few fics where people say that Bruce and Tim share a love of those genres. I could definitely see Tim listening to the ones you mentioned. He probably plays it through his preferred headphones as he fixes electronics, codes, or plots destruction. He also, because he suppresses his anger a lot, probably listens to music like Ghostemane, Kim Dracula, and Freddie Dredd.

Jason definitely enjoys musicals. Dick as well, but Jason isn't as vocal about it. Instead, Jason will listen to 80's rock and 2000's girl bands if others around (he ofc listens to TLC).

I like to think that they all enjoy music in different languages. For Dick and Damian, they especially like music they grew up listening to in their respective cultures. The others, because the batfam is multilingual, just enjoy all kinds of different tunes in multiple languages. The batfam playlist, especially for hanging out in the cave, is chaotic. Bruce nearly had an aneurysm the first time he heard Touch You (Yarichin Bitch Club) over the speakers. The only reason the kids didn't get in trouble was because Damian was out with Colin at the time.

I hc that Cass likes lofi hip hop music. She typically enjoys all songs but prefers those without words (because understanding words still requires energy from her and can prevent her from fully relaxing). She does listen to a lot of classical music, a passion she shares with Alfred.

Alfred, the man the myth the legend, enjoys swing music the most. He'll put on a variety of music in the kitchen (different classical eras, opera music, the occasional musical, jazz, some more modern instrumental music, and some movie background tracks), but the whole fam knowns he's in a really good mood if swing music is playing.

Bruce is the type of person to just listen to what's on. Unless he dislikes the music, he will be fine with whatever his kids or Alfred have playing. He particularly enjoys alternative rock and old country music (like Garth Brooks), but he doesn't usually fight for the aux cord.

Barbara has playlists depending on her mood. Birds of Prey mission prep? Bruce being a dick? Dick being a dick? Batfam drama she has to once again intervene in? Coding nights? Can't get out of bed days? She also has a few playlists for each person she regularly interacts with. For calm or bad nights, she'll put the playlist in that person's comm. She also likes to hack speakers around Bruce and play her revenge music when he's being a petty asshole. Some of her revenge music includes "They're Coming to Take Me Away" by Sloppy Jane, "OoOo1" by galen tipton, "All I see is Poop" by Hobo Johnson, "I Swallowed Shampoo" by Soupy Garage Juice, "I am now going to bark at you" by thquib, and "I hope You Die in a Fire" by Grand Commander.

Duke is most definitely a Mitski, Hozier, Crane Wives enjoyer, and you can pry that hc from my cold, dead hands. He probably also likes songs similar to "Ancapistan" by Jreg or "The Fine Print" by The Stupendium.

Dick's music is either super high in energy or sad as fuck. He loves the songs "Has Anbody Seen My Will to Live" by The Tin Knees and "Copacabana (At the Copa)" by Barry Manilow because they are both sad and happy :) I hc that he likes songs by TV Girl, Yot Club, Joji, and Cosmo Sheldrake. He also has a few playlists he follows of Zumba music. The song "The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer is one of his favorites.

This is already a pretty long post, so feel free to reblog with more ideas! I didn't get to Steph or more in depth with Damian :(

#dc comics #duke thomas #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #yes i do listen to every song and band I've mentioned regularly and for enjoyment #thank you for the ask!!!! #i will probably add damian and steph later #ignore any bad writings with this one cause I'm currently at work while writing it

[ohbo-ohno]

bo, first of all i adore your writing!!

but you've mentioned a few shall we say 'darker themed' books you've read in asks here and there, can you give some recs of your faves?? pretty please??

first of all, i love you! and also yes always, i never mind giving book recs! i sorta ramble under the cut, sorry lol

alright i'll start with the darker romances. these are hard noncon, and depict abusive relationships that aren't always framed as bad. when i say dark i mean dark lmao, always be aware of what you're going itno before you read a dark romance

If you like my fics, I can almost guarantee you'll like Taken by Felicity Brandon. This is about an author who writes dark erotica and gets kidnapped by a fan, who forces her to live out some of her scenes. Includes petplay! I have my issues with the book (and I DNF'd the sequel) but ohhhh the smut is so good

I mentioned them a while back, but Measha Stone's Owned and Protected series is a 6 book series with noncon/dubcon petplay in every single book. Calling these "romance" is a stretch, but god if you like my noncon petplay stuff (and you're alright with reading explicit noncon and forced relationships), you might like these

I haaated the ending of Distorted by Nyla K. but dear fucking god it is a good prison dark romance. Also it is SO Ghoap coded, I would recommend reading the first ~80% of it lmfao

Corrupt Idol by Dinah Harper is the first book in a series that will probably never get finished, but honestly it's pretty good as a standalone. Dark step-brother romance, and I thought the writing (at least in the first half) was so good, I genuinely felt for the FMC at times (even if I was screaming at her)

Ok I'm not confident in this rec because I'm still not suuuuper sure how I feel about this book, but Torment by Dylan Page is a dark step-brother biker romance. The FMC is the MMC's "rock", and the only thing that keeps him from flying off into a violent rage when he's upset, and he develops an unhealthy attachment to her that everyone around them allows because they don't want to deal with him. I never read the second book, but this is another one where you really feel for the FMC

One of my favoriteeee dark A/B/O (specifically the first book) is Born to be Bound by Addison Cane. I would suggest not reading anything past the third book, and I'm not a huuge fan of the side plots, but the stuff with the FMC and MMC is just. God it's the perfect brand of dark A/B/O (in MY head)

I've recommended it before, but for my truly fucked in the head followers - Under His Heel by Adara Wolf is probably the darkest book I've ever read. It's a four book series (and I think the whole thing is worth reading) and it's got every single trigger warning except for (i think) scat, pedophilia, and necrophilia. it has rape, incest that's also rape, extreme body modification (though it's not permanent), severe public humiliation, severe mental torture, and just about 0 aftercare for our MMC. The book follows a man in a far distant future who's working as an indentured servant to pay off his debts & his incredibly sadistic and evil master. These books are far from "for everyone", but if you really want some fucked up romance (with heavy smut) I think these are worth reading!

aaand some softer dark romances. to me, these are books with some lighter kidnapping or soft noncon, abuse in a mental but not physical way, and MMCs who just think they're in the right

Gemma Weir's Montana Mountain Men is like an acid trip and it's kinda crack, but i read all 7 in like a day, so take that as you will. Each book is about a different brother in the same family as they fall in love - except, in this family the men supposedly know who their soulmate is the moment they lay eyes on them. So there's some light kidnapping, some manipulation/unhealthy behavior, and some birth control tampering in these. For what they are, I enjoyed almost all of them lmao

The Darkest Temptation by Danielle Lori is like a kidnapping romance written for non-dark romance readers tbh. It toes the line of noncon/dubcon, and it's definitely a kidnapping romance, but it's really not that dark.

Nicky the Driver by Cate C. Wells is (in my opinion) not as good as the first book in the series, but it's way lighter in terms of darkness level

Shiver by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine is a stalker romance that fell a little short for me, but was overall enjoyable (iirc lol). It's about a young man who goes into a kink club and attracts the attention of the owner, who then stalks him. I think it just wasn't as dark as I wanted tbh, but if you like lighter dark stuff I think you might like this!

#recs #this got long sorry #asks and answers

[love-toxin]

burn me down to ashes - steve harrington & billy hargrove

volume II

plot: shy, socially awkward little you, the resident nobody of Hawkins High, is caught between a rock and a hard place in the span of a day. the rock being Steve Harrington, the guy you've had a crush on forever and who just might like you back, and the hard place being Billy Hargrove--the guy who just can't seem to keep his eyes, or hands, off you.

cws: bullied!angelface, angel has low self-esteem/intrusive thoughts, 80s movie references, crushes, smoking, slight violence/roughousing, jealousy, drinking, angel makes friends, nicknames, angsty fluff but it goes up from here, non-canon character appearances, fem reader.

a/n: vol II coming soon! this is a longer fic i cut in half ♡

word count: 5.4k

You've never really thought there was anything wrong with you, at least not until you got into high school. The last four–five, now, since you had to repeat your last year–have been the most hellish years of your life.

You've been knocked around, had your books thrown in the fountain, your locker vandalized, your desk kicked by people walking by…every which way you could be tortured, you have. Even graduation served to be an opportunity for people to get their licks in, one of the girls that tortured you the most sticking her foot out when you went to walk the stage and tripping you in front of the whole school, resulting in a bellowing chorus of mocking laughter that you're certain you'll hear in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

But there's a life you've dreamed of, one you know you would never attain in this lifetime, but you fantasize about nonetheless. One where you're maybe not popular, or even liked, but one where you're at least protected. His name reads out in the scribbles at the margins of your notebook, and the smell of his cologne sticks in your mind and draws your thoughts to him whenever you pass by the scented section of the department store. Your protector, your saviour, at least in your mind–it's none other than Steve Harrington, the most popular guy in school and the one guy you know you would never have a chance with.

For one, he's widely adored–you wouldn't be able to work your way through all his fans if you tried, and most of them are far prettier, smarter, and more popular than you anyways. Two, Steve himself is objectively gorgeous, at least to you, and there's no way he would go for a…for someone like you, someone that looks or sounds or smells like you. Three, you don't even have friends, much less a relationship, so you really would have no idea what you were doing in the first place. Four, you can't even work up the courage to talk to him, or even look in his direction, even though you sat right next to each other all through chem class in your senior year and he asked to borrow your textbook on several occasions. And you now see him at Family Video at least once a week to rent a new movie. That's pretty much the extent of your interactions, and that's where the dream stops and real life slaps you in the face.

But it's on that day that you step into the store and hear excited chattering that you don't realize that might just change, Robin and Steve exchanging words and gestures that look like they're trying to agree on something.

"Welcome to Fa–oh, hey! You're just in time!" Robin waves to you as you walk in, dropping the corporate greeting the second her eyes meet yours. She's always been so nice to you, kind in a way you feel like you don't deserve, but it would be impossible to try and convince her otherwise so you simply go along with whatever she says. You're not really sure how else to be friends…if that's even what you are. Maybe, maybe not. It's a little difficult for you to figure out, even though you desperately want to call Robin your friend. She leans over the counter on her elbows as you walk up, and pats her hands on it as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly excited about something.

"You wanna go to a house party with me? Harrington here is chickening out last minute, and I really don't want to go alone."

"I'm not chickening out! I just don't want to hang out with a bunch of dickheads I knew in high school." Steve huffs, certainly because knowing them they've been arguing about it for a while before you stopped by, and he looks so good today, even though you say the same to yourself every time you see him. His hair is a little crazy from him running his hands through it, but it still looks good, fluffy, like every sway of his locks is intentionally beautiful and not accidental.

"I've never been to a house party before! I want the full, uninterrupted experience." You're not even thinking straight when you're distracted by him, and find your mouth running before you can catch it.

"Me neither, um…it sounds like fun, though. I'll go." You say rather meekly, some part of you wondering perversely if Robin's lips will stretch into a smirk as she reveals that she was just teasing, and how dumb do you have to be to think anyone would actually invite you to a party?

"Really? Sick, I don't feel so alone now!" She does a little victory dance, celebrating her triumph with a few fist pumps and the sound of her shoes clacking against the linoleum behind the counter. Safe. Everything is safe, now, you're sure, and you take a deep breath to try and steady your thumping heart.

"Well…okay, if you're both going, I'll come with you." Steve tightens his arms, still crossed over that broad chest that you've only ever seen in its full glory during those basketball games you've snuck out of class to go watch.

"Wow! Changing your mind on a dime just cause Buttercup is coming–I feel like chopped liver, seriously!" She's joking, but it still flusters you. "Buttercup" is one of the few nicknames they've dubbed you with, on account of how many times you've rented out The Princess Bride since they've started working there. As far as you know you're their most frequent customer, so it's somewhat of a game for them to find movies you haven't seen that you might like–and to be brutally honest, it's about the fullest extent of any friendship you have. "Alright, alright, Stevie, you can come keep us safe. But don't you dare be a buzzkill!"

Robin turns back to you after prodding Steve in the chest, and her eyes are brighter than they were before. Even if the realization of what you just agreed to is only hitting you now, and the anxiety is slowly starting to creep in, the fact that you made her so happy by saying yes is all that's keeping you on your feet right now.

"Just come by after we close and we'll drive you there, okay?" You nod in agreement, and that's when Robin climbs up and slides herself across the counter, dropping down beside you on the other side to wave you over to the rows of shelved movies. "Now, what movie are we going with this week? Romcom, horror?"

You place the VHS on the counter, just as pristine as when you picked it up. The Breakfast Club is always a classic for you, you'd watched it a couple times over the week–you always tend to see yourself in Ally, while you see so much of Steve in Andrew, which might be why you've watched it so many times with your pillow hugged to your chest, your eyes glued to the screen. Somehow, though, the sight of John parading around the library tables always stirs something within you, something that reminds you of someone you know, but can't put your finger on.

Either way, you shake the thought from your head as you follow Robin down the aisles, her steps more of a skip as she saunters towards the newer tapes on the New Release rack. She picks up one after the other and chitters on about each one, which ones she thinks are bogus and which ones are diamonds in the rough–but your gaze keeps drifting back to Steve at the counter, his hips pressed against it as he leans back and steadies himself with those smooth, toned biceps, and fiddles with the tape you dropped off…and you have to force yourself to look away, to not meet his eyes when you feel them turn towards you, and focus back on your friend as your mind runs wild with thoughts about tonight.

When the time comes, it's very clear when you move through the front door that you don't belong here.

Hours after picking up your newest movie-The Neverending Story–you're trailing behind Steve and Robin with a new dress you picked out weeks ago and a bit of makeup smeared awkwardly over your eyes. You've never been sure how to do it, but Robin made a point of commenting on how cute you look when you slid into the backseat of Steve's car, so it at least calmed you down a little bit before you got there.

Bodies are packed in everywhere, laughing, talking, drinking. Further into the house you spot a living room down the hall, where the music is loudest and people are dancing so close together they almost look like one full unit. People are stumbling to and from each room with solo cups filled with coloured drinks, most of them drunk already–and you find yourself trying to stick close to Robin, except that she and Steve are hurrying down the hall to go talk to someone they know, and beckoning you after them. There's no going back now, especially since you'll have to walk home if you try to leave alone. And after what happened last time you did so, you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and start putting one foot in front of the other.

You move stiffly down the hallway they had weaved through, people leaning against the walls and moving in groups with their friends to get more drinks or migrate towards the dancing area. Alone, you feel like too many unfamiliar eyes are drawn towards you, you know you must stick out like a sore thumb–but there's one face you recognize, and it immediately makes you regret ever choosing this hallway to work your way down.

Billy Hargrove leans against the wall by his arm, jacket open to reveal a white wifebeater and a packed chest that must be an absolute nightmare to face in a fight, many of which you know he's been in. He's got such a reputation, despite not being in Hawkins for too long, and he was even present at the infamous Starcourt Mall fire–that in itself is evident by the burn scars you can see peeking out from the sides of his leather jacket. Some girl is flirting with him, or trying to, because he looks like he's not paying much attention. You don't even realize it's the girl that tripped you at graduation until you get close enough to sidle past them, but that's unfortunately close enough for Billy to lock eyes with you and stand up off the wall.

"Hey, pretty girl. I don't think we've been introduced." He turns completely towards you, fully engaged, and holds out a hand to you with half-lidded eyes. Thinking about it for more than a few seconds, which is about how long it takes for you to realize that he's actually talking to you, the thought that he must be drunk crosses your mind and your shoulders tense a little bit. He frightens you, and you know he has a temper even at the best of times–you don't even want to know what he might say or do if you piss him off. So you shut your mouth and tremble as you place your hand delicately into his, hoping nothing terrible comes out of the conversation, especially when the girl's eyes are burning a glare into you. Vanessa, you're sure her name is, even though you've tried so hard to forget it. "Billy. You can call me whatever you want, though."

"Hi…uh, I think we've met before." He squeezes your hand, not hard, just an inkling of pressure. The desire to reach out and grab those words to shove them back into your mouth is so strong, but you can't, and your chest tightens so much you might just collapse right then and there. But Billy, on the contrary to what you think he might do, just smiles enough that you can see a glimpse of those pearly teeth past his plush lips.

"I can't believe that," He winks, his thumb rubbing the the heel of your hand before he finally lets it go. Is he…is this what flirting really is? It feels like it's too much like the movies, but you've really got no frame of reference since you have no experience yourself, so you truly have no idea. Including whether he's being facetious or not. "I would've remembered a gorgeous girl like you. Or, more like, I wouldn't have forgotten you. No matter how hard I tried."

Now you're stuck. Dreaded small talk. You can't believe he's doing anything but trying to fuck with you, especially with Vanessa standing right next to both of you, so that's just how you end up thinking about it. But you would be such a liar if you thought his comments didn't raise a heat to your face that must be obvious even under your touch of makeup.

"Um…I, uh…we were…calculus partners.." You're trying to get it all out fast so you can try to catch up to Steve and Robin again, but the words just strangle themselves when they leave your mouth, much like any time you try to speak to someone you're not comfortable with.

"No shit," He breathes. "I do recognize you." He says it in a way that feels more sincere than anything else he's said leading up to this. "You've really changed since then. Really…filled out that figure. Or maybe this is the first time I'm seeing you in clothes like that. You look great."

Billy's eyes roam unapologetically, drinking you in from feet to forehead and every spot in between. It doesn't feel right to be looked at in such a way, it feels perverse–not like how a partner or a love interest would do it, but more like the creepy older men that try to pick you up when you're walking home from work. Even though Billy is far from that, and he's actually a little nicer than you thought he was, it just feels wrong for you to be looked at that way. Because you're not pretty, and you're not special. You're not the type of person that people look at like they want to see you naked, and treasure you while they do so. Not like how Billy's looking at you now, until something seems to strike him that makes him finally pipe up.

"Wasn't that the class that the ginger kid pulled your hair in?" He's right, and it couldn't be more humiliating for him to remember that above all else. Sam Dunner had grabbed your ponytail in third period calculus and yanked it hard, hard enough to sting, and earned himself a cacophony of laughter when you shrieked that you felt, at the time, would be the soundtrack to your entire life. Billy had been out that day, maybe sick, maybe late–but regardless, he hadn't been there to say a word and you had always figured he wouldn't. Up until now, at least, when you nod and mumble a quiet "Yes", and his brow furrows.

"That reminds me, actually." Billy turns to the girl he's been ignoring up until now, her face lighting up when he finally looks down at her. You're surprised she's kept quiet up until now.

"Vanessa, weren't you the one that tripped this nice girl at graduation?" What he says, and the way he says it, renders you completely shocked. You could never imagine talking to someone like her like he just did, because you know she would chew you up and spit you back out for all her friends to laugh at. But evidently Billy is a lot different, because she starts visibly floundering with a stutter when he calls her out right in the open.

"Y-Yeah, so? It was a joke. It was just…in good fun." She recovers quickly if nothing else, and says it with smug venom flicking off her tongue, and you just want to disappear so that she never looks at you with that expression again.

"I think you owe her an apology, actually." He leans into her ear and says it so quietly, almost gently, that your eyes widen as you wonder whether you actually heard that right.

"Are you serious? It was a joke, it's not my fault she got all upset."

"I'm dead fucking serious. Now, why don't you apologize, before I get really pissed off." The tension you feel between them would break a butcher's knife.

"O-Okay! I'm sorry, like…I'm sorry. Jesus." She mutters that last part under her breath.

"That was pathetic, but whatever. Get out of my face." She huffs in frustration but does as he says, pushing past you and knocking shoulders in a way that's definitely intentional–but for you, it's so much of the norm that it doesn't even really faze you. You also don't catch the harsh glare he shoots at the back of her head either, since it disappears as soon as you turn to look at him again and he's pulling out a cigarette from a pack with his teeth.

"You wanna puff, sweetheart?" He reaches into the pocket of his jacket to produce a lighter, but you're quick to shake your head as he cups a hand around the end and lights it up.

"N-No, I have to…get back to my friends. Um, thank you."

"Not a problem, princess. Anyone else gives you problems, you just come to me, mkay?" He winks at you over his burning cigarette, enthused over the way you trip over your words in front of him. You just nod, pseudo-politely, and move to take a step away.

"That's my girl." He breathes out a puff of smoke as he says it, eyes following you until you've moved into the main living room and presumably out of sight. It's a little dizzying when you finally get there, the familiar thumping beat of Love Shack resonating through the walls as you shuffle into what feels like a whole other world.

"Buttercup! Thought we lost you back there." Your one and only friend's voice rises above the crowd as she spots you, and she strolls over to rescue you from the rest of the party. Robin's smile lighting up when she takes hold of your hand soothes you at once, and you breathe deeply as she pulls you along to a more open area of the house where Steve and two other people are standing and chatting.

"Oh, hi! Is this your new friend?" Once she turns to look at you, you recognize both her and the guy standing next to her immediately. The brunette is Nancy Wheeler, one of the most popular girls when you were in school besides being Steve's ex-girlfriend. And standing next to her–

"I know her," Jonathan Byers cuts in, a soft smile tweaking his lips as he waves in your direction. "She and I were in gym together freshman year."

It does come as a surprise that he remembers, but then again, if anyone would, it would be Jonathan Byers. You two were famously bad in your class, constantly being overlooked by the more athletic students and criticized for your pathetic performance in any and all sports by the coach. But your saving grace had been that you were terrible together, even though you were both shy and socially awkward freshmen who could barely talk to each other, much less anyone else. He's the only other one that was really reaching the same level of an outcast as you in school, aside from the infamous Eddie Munson, whom you've only spoken to a handful of times when you've seen him at Family Video but has been one of the few to treat you with familiarity and kindness….two things you rarely find with people your age.

"Really? I feel like I should remember you…did we have any-?"

"No, uh, no we didn't." You don't have the heart to tell her you sat behind her in biology for two years straight, because she seems like a nice girl and you know it'll just make her feel bad and turn the conversation into an awkward mess. So it's easier just to avoid it. And it's already difficult for you to imagine her and Steve…it just hurts, even though it shouldn't. If they didn't last, what chance would you ever have?

"Aw, well, it's really nice to meet you! Steve's told me so much about you, so has Robin. You're a movie buff, huh?"

"I-I…yeah, I like movies."

She's so pretty that it's honestly kind of intimidating, not to mention you're stood in the same circle as not just four other people, but four very cool and charismatic people. You've got no chance, especially with Steve being one of those four, and so you know you just want to say as little as possible to minimize the inevitable embarrassment. But it soon becomes very apparent that you're just destined to be the center of attention.

"Like? She's seen like, every movie in existence." Robin backs you up, maybe intentionally or not, and the way she gushes about you makes you want to hide…but not in the bad way. It's flattering, genuinely flattering. Not something you're all that used to, at all. "She just dropped off Breakfast Club today. Classic."

"Ooh! Who's your favourite?" Nancy looks back at you, sincerity in her eyes. She really is so pretty.

"U-Um…An..Andrew…I like Andrew." That's not entirely a lie, but it also serves as a convenient enough answer to avoid drawing suspicion.

"I, uh, I like Ally." Steve pipes up from nowhere, shoulders shifting as he readjusts his jacket.

"I'm surprised you're not a Molly Ringwald fan, Steve." Jonathan pipes up, and Steve shakes his head with a laugh, but his eyes stick to yours and they don't flicker away this time. And he nibbles his lower lip between his teeth, bites down–oh, he bites down, and suddenly nothing that anyone else says makes it to your ears as you stop and stare. A warm feeling stirs within you, like the words you want to say are bubbling up to your throat–

"C'mon, let's dance! I love this song!" But before they have a chance to come out, Robin's tugging you by the hand over to the dance floor, leaving the other three looking on at the two dorks who have no idea how to function at a party. Robin pulls you to the center of the crowd and giggles as you shyly stick close to her, allowing her to take your other hand too and move them around as the two of you bounce along to the rhythm. You don't really know what you're doing, and neither does she, but the more you realize that nobody is really looking aside from the two of you at each other, it slowly becomes easier and easier to just let the beat move you and a smile to work its way on to your face as Robin twirls you around and laughs free-spiritedly. Song after song comes and goes, you occasionally get a glimpse of Steve watching you through the throng of people–and he looks like he's smiling. Some small, selfishly hopeful part of you prays he's smiling at you.

When you finally tear your eyes away and turn back, Robin's gone. Glancing around to try and find her, you only then distantly remember her speaking in your ear just loud enough over the music that she was gonna go get a drink, but you should've been paying more attention–without her around, you feel small, and scared again. Someone bumps you hard with their elbow and you squeak at the pain in your side, someone else cursing at you for bumping into them in the process, and once you have a chance after that you're slipping through the crowd to get out of the most concentrated area of people. And when you do, you still don't see her, not over by the kitchen or out by the front door.

You can't spot Robin over the crowd you just wormed your way out of, can't really see anyone with so many people in one place. Somebody jostles you as they shove past, and in the heat of the moment, the only option you have is the guy standing just a few feet away, who just pushed his way past a few people in his way–the one you've been too mortified to try and talk to one on one since you were fourteen years old.

"Steve?"

"What's up?" He's strangely alert, focused completely on you like nothing else about the party exists.

"I'm gonna walk home, I…I just need to go home."

"Already? Are you alright?" It's a little shocking to hear that, and to see how concern spells out across his pretty features as he reaches to touch your arm–your arm.

"I'm…I-I'm fine, I just…it's a little too much for me. I don't.." You can't get the words out. I don't belong here. They feel too painful to say in front of someone you admire so much, and you pull away from his touch despite wanting it so badly.

"Aw…okay, wait by the back door, I'll go tell Robin and I'll drive you home."

"It's fine. I'll walk." You're saying it as you're already heading towards the open back door, one that's sliding glass that leads out to the grassy backyard, because you'd much rather dart around the side of the house than fight your way back through to the front door. Plus, you seriously need a breath of fresh air right now. You've got no idea that he's hurrying after you, and has a full view of what's waiting for you when you get out the door.

The second you step out into the cool, airy night, the sloshing shhhh sound of running water hits your ears–and then it hits the rest of you, a spray of freezing cold water crashing into your whole body and catching you completely off guard. The grass beneath you is slippery, and you stumble back and hit the ground hard on your spine, and they're still spraying you with what feels like a fire hose of water with a cackling symphony of laughter until Steve's voice rises above the crowd.

"Hey! Knock that shit off!"

The tidal wave stops and leaves you shaking only when the garden hose drops from your ex-classmate's hands, and that's because Steve's grabbed hold of it and ripped it from his grasp before shoving him, his face so red with anger like you've never seen before. But it doesn't stop the laughing of the crowd gathered around, all of them clearly having waited for the perfect victim to come out to pull their little prank–and each and every face you recognize as someone who at one point tortured you in school.

It takes you one try, then another to get up, still shaky and cold from the water and trying not to slip on the wet grass–but when you do get to your feet you stumble out of the lit area of the yard and around the side of the house, tears welling in your eyes as they laugh even louder and jeer at you with mocking insults that make the sting of humiliation burn even harder. You just want to run as far away as you can, away from the house, the people, from Steve–he must think you're such an idiot–but you hit another wall, although this one catches you in two strong arms before you fall again.

"Hey–princess? Why are you soaked?"

It's the last person you want to see right now, the most likely guy in the entirety of Hawkins to mock you for your current state. But Billy's got confusion and concern written all over his face even so, his voice laced with something a little more…strained.

"Tell me what happened." The cigarette he must have come out to smoke dangles haphazardly from his lips, but he lets it fall and mindlessly grinds it into the dirt when he actually notices it does. Otherwise, his eyes are completely centered on yours.

"I wanna go home," You sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He pulls you into his arms, uncaring as to the fact that you're drenched and freezing. He seems more attentive towards warming you up. And he is warm.

"Who did this to you?"

"I d-dunno his name…"

"Describe him. Where is he?" You point weakly towards the back of the house, still sniveling like a crying baby. You can hear a voice in your head telling you to suck it up, that you're just trying to get attention. That you deserved that.

"Wait here." Whatever words you want to say can't squeeze around the lump in your throat. You just turn your eyes down as Billy steps around you, gait heavy and purposeful as he marches towards the back and collides with someone, yet doesn't stop.

"Watch it, man–hey! There you are," Steve's voice reaches you, but doesn't, at the same time. You don't even turn to look, just stand there staring at the grass and feeling the tears fall and hit the ground as he hurries over and moves in front of you to grip your shoulders.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You brusquely wipe the tears away with your sleeve, and soon you have your arm pinned to your chest as Steve tugs you into his arms and squeezes you so tight against his shoulder.

"Shit, you're cold–come on, let's go inside and warm you up-"

"No!" You push against his chest, and he leans back but doesn't let go, hands loosely holding you still. Your voice is strong but your touch is weak, at least too weak to get away from him. "I don't want to, Steve! I don't want them to laugh at me! I'm fucking sick of it!"

He's struck speechless. You've ruined it all, just like always. Just like you and everyone else in the world knew you would. Stupid, you're so goddamn stupid.

"Then…Then let's not go through the house." He pulls you closer to the side of the house, near the edge of the roof–a sturdy, box-shaped pressure meter serves as the perfect thing for him to step up on, and when he pulls you up with him he clasps his hands together once he's close enough the the edge of the roof jutting out from the first floor. "Here, step on my hands. Climb up–but be careful!"

You don't have the energy to argue with him. And you don't want to subject yourself to anyone else seeing your tears, since you're sure that more of your bullies will be lying in wait near the front of the house to hurt you even worse. But sometimes, you hate how stubborn Steve can be, even as he's lifting you up to climb on to the roof and out of the way of more danger. Once you're kneeling on the tiles, he hauls himself up alongside you with a few groans of effort, before carefully moving towards the window that overlooks the rooftop and yanking it up and open. He ushers you to climb inside and drops inside after you, and once it's closed, you find yourself standing in some stranger's bedroom.

"Steve, we shouldn't be-" He hurries past you and turns his head to raise a finger to his lips, his hand shooting out to twist the lock to the bedroom door. And to make doubly sure that you won't be encroached on, he takes the chair sitting at the desk against the wall and props it underneath the door handle, ensuring that it's properly snug before he sighs in relief.

And now, against all odds, you're standing in a stranger's bedroom at a house party with Steve Harrington. Soaking wet, cold, and cheeks still tearstained from your outburst, wondering what in the world is going to come next–aside from more heartbreak.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #harringrove x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #5k

[siennasfix]

Pareidolia

Summary: This story is set sometime in the future. Hyunjin is a claimed son of Aphrodite. Y/n and her sister are the only unclaimed children who know the identity of their godly parent. They’re college students in Camp Jupiter. A new streak of murders takes off and all the tracks point to Luna, Y/n’s nine-year-old sister, which leads to Y/n making it her mission to prove the little girl’s innocence. One mishap leads to another and Hyunjin and Y/n find themselves working together to find out what they can do to solve the mystery.

Notes:

 This fic is inspired by the world of Percy Jackson and will contain many elements of the Hunger Games franchise. I’ve been a fan of both for years and I thought I’d try my hand at weaving both of these universes so that they flow seamlessly. Regarding mature themes and violence, it will definitely lean more on the Hunger Games side of the spectrum.  This fic is going to be long af so buckle up. There will be 3 books, the final chapters of which will be marked in the endnotes. I have an idea of how many chapters the entire fic is going to be, but of course, it might be longer than I have planned because I want to describe everything in such explicit detail that it WILL drive many of you nuts, and there's also the thing with me wanting to give the characters their chance to shine and develop properly. The girls that get it, get it. The point is; this fic might take not months but years to finish and the finalization will keep me from ending it all so I’ll try my best not to die before then.  This fic will contain mature themes. There will be many lighthearted moments but it’s more of a reprieve from all the heavy shit going on than anything. So do not read this if you’re expecting a cheerful romance or a happily ever after for every character. In addition to this, there will be depictions of death, torture, assault, sex, and so on, things that not everyone can stomach, which is more than fine but just be sure that this is your cup of tea before starting to read it. I will try to tag it as well as I can for each chapter and include the TWs in the beginning notes so don't skip them. • An array of power dynamics will be depicted as the story progresses. • The romance ranges from sweet to radioactive so keep that in mind. • Romance tropes: 1. Hyunjin x Reader- enemies to lovers, annoyances to lovers, mutual pining, dark romance, obsessive lovers, don’t blame me love made me crazy coded 2. Jisung x Minho- mutual clowning, friends to sort of strangers to fwb to lovers, they got that 80s rock aesthetic vibe going on 3. Seungmin x Jeongin- initially unrequited, strategy meets theatre, friends to lovers  I’ll try to update regularly, maybe once every two or three weeks. This is more for me to be honest as I’m a major procrastinator and this might help me sit my ass down and WRITE.  Make sure to always read the opening notes as many warnings pertaining to the events of the chapter, ones I have been unable to include in the tags above, will be revealed there.

Book I: Part I, Part II, Part III

Book II: Part I, Part II, Part III

Book III: Part I, Part II, Part III

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin enemies to lovers #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz godly parent au #skz godly parent #stray kids godly parent au #stray kids godly parent #skz pjo #stray kids pjo #minsung #lee know #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

[zeroducks-2]

Let’s talk Helena Wayne bc like it’s criminal that we barely get anything about her and that they completely changed her origin and family (the bertinelli mafia family) to add her into the main comic book line.

im torn bc I love both versions of her :(

But I wanted Dick to share some older siblings trauma with her and for Damian to have that “blood” sibling bc I think that would have completely rocked early Damian’s shit. All his life, he was told to be the true heir of Bruce Wayne, but it turns out he has an OLDER SISTER BRUCE HID FROM TALIA AND RA. Idk I just think that would have crushed his lil murder ego and made for some interesting sibling moments and an interesting dynamic.

Lastly, can we talk about how the Batfam fandom completely stole all of Helena (Bertinelli)’s character traits and gave them to Jason??? Im sorry but when in the material source has Jason ever been super devout and catholic? Helena is the religious one, why am I reading about Jason’s apparent Catholicism in fics and HC dumps? Also Jason (besides his Robin days) has never been this savour and protector of the woman and children of Gotham, that’s very very veryyyyyy clearly a trait from Helena and strongly ties into her backstory as a child who suffered coming from a rich bloodline of syndicate crime. And don’t think this is me bashing on Jason, bc it’s not!! I love Jason Todd - but for who he is. Not for this weird fandom version of him who is either still suffering from the craze the lazarus pit puts you through, or this Joan of Arc of Gotham character either.

I'm gonna be honest with you, this character confuses me a bit. I know that Bruce and Selina got married and had a daughter in their Earth-Two incarnations, and this daughter is Helena Wayne, who's Dick best buddy and a vigilante in her own right called Huntress.

Then I know Helena Bertinelli, daughter of a mafia lord who was introduced in the late 80s in the preboot comic continuity, and was a quite murdery vigilante called Huntress who Bruce didn't accept because she "reminded him of Barbara" (you gotta love DC's excuses for sexism and ableism lol it's not like Barbara was dead just paralyzed. Also it did not look like Bruce gave a shit about it at the end of TKJ that Joker had crippled her - "she reminds him or Barbara". LMAO Bruce).

Then post reboot the title Huntress was given back to Helena Wayne, however Helena Bertinelli is ALSO there and she's ALSO called Huntress? She appears in the Grayson run where Dick is an agent of Spyral, and she seems to be Italian-American but I don't think her origin is the same as in preboot? Also I have no idea about Helena Wayne's continuity post reboot - when she was conceived, who raised her, how did she become a vigilante, neither I have any idea where to find this info.

I agree that if she had been raised by Bruce it could have made for an interesting dynamic amongst the bats and birds. It did in Earth 2 even if only Dick is just there - they're not siblings but they also aren't not siblings? The dynamic is murky and I love murky. Pretty sure it would have changed everything for Damian as well, especially the fact that she would have most likely been the first object of Damian's need to prove himself worthy, instead of Tim.

That being said, not much of what you mentioned is fanon about Jason.

Jason had an arc in which he's a priest. Pretty normal that fans HC him as devout or anyway catholic.

Father Todd in Flashpoint: The World of Flashpoint Vol. 1 - this is an AU in which Jason was never taken in by Bruce and was never Robin.

As for the whole "protector of women and children" thing, you probably know that Jason was born in extreme poverty, his father was in and out of prison and his mother died of overdose. He is very much a child who suffered because of a broken system, and given how harshly he reacts when women and children are the recipient of violence "in his Robin days", is it really that strange that fans assume he carried these traits in adulthood?

We see him being sweet and protective to kids many times, or anyway losing his mcfucking shit when children are being harmed (like in Brothers in Blood). Imo that of Jason caring about vulnerable people is barely a headcanon, and I don't see how this would make him the Joan of Arc of Gotham either - if I'm being honest ALL vigilantes should care about minorities and vulnerable people, it's the other way around that is weird as fuck (like that arc in which Dick almost dies to prevent this guy from shutting down Bludhaven's casinos, like what the hell was Tim Seeley thinking exactly).

That being said, I understand your frustration if the character you like doesn't have recognition. Trust me I do! There's a lot of them for me too, especially female and/or non white characters who had maybe 1 run ages ago and then got forgotten by DC, and I would REALLY LIKE to see them more, and to see them acknowledged more by the fans (from the top of my mind, Jenni Ognats or Patricia Trayce).

But this isn't fandom's fault. As I mentioned before, Helena Bertinelli as a fleshed out character was a thing between 20 and 30 years ago, and most of tumblr's userbase was either very young or not born yet. DC forgot about her, stripped Huntress from her to give it to Helena Wayne, then brought her back but as an agent of Spyral and it really doesn't look like they care. Fans can't be held accountable for the fact that she's simply not there. They didn't "steal" Helena's traits to give them to Jason; this implies a willful and malicious intent from people who saw this character and decided her features fit another character better, and it's obviously not what happened - people barely know Helena Bertinelli exists if at all.

Also - I said this about Jason already and I will repeat it a million times: Jason wasn't picked at random from the sea of DC characters to be people's blorbo, he resonates with fans for a reason. Under the Red Hood is a deeply emotional and relatable arc for many people because it's the story of how a child was failed by every single person who was supposed to protect and guide him, and then was failed again as an adult victim who demanded to be seen and heard and acknowledged, and instead was silenced again. It's heartbreaking to see how many people see this and say "this is me, this is what happened to me", but it is what it is, and most of all there is no taking this away from Jason's fans. DC tried to villainize him, to make him look and sound like a madman, to make him unhinged and deranged and they had Tim suggest that "maybe it's the Lazarus Pit that drove him mad", but it didn't work and fans still love him and still consider him a symbol of how "bad victims" are treated worse than their abusers, and keep being retraumatized by a society that prefers turning a blind eye to violence than deal with the issue at its root.

And lastly, bitching won't get you anywhere. I am the living proof that the right way to make people interested in something is to be passionate about that something. You want more folks to pay attention to Helena Bertinelli, then since DC won't do anything with her, the most effective thing you can do is post about her - write essays, draw her, write fics with her, create webweavings and moodboards, commission this stuff if you don't have the skills. Complaining that she should be the recipient of fandom love won't make anyone more interested in her.

#my asks #long post #yall please stop blaming fandom for DC's sins #'no one cares about my blorbo!' look up and see if your blorbo is anywhere in the source material in the past 10 years #DC has historically culled female characters and minority characters even when their runs were beloved and successful #see Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain for an easy accessible example #if it hadn't been for fans yelling about them we probably wouldn't have them AT ALL since DC was adamant in pretending they never existed #despite both of them having had perfectly good selling runs #so no it's not the fans' fault for being sexist #of course there's sexism in fandoms there is sexism everywhere #but it's not that simple and fans aren't responsible for the fuckups of the source material anyway #okay rant over #jason todd #helena wayne #helena bertinelli

[venomous-qwille]

I am in the mood for a question today : about GITM of course, your au and fic is amazing and you sure know by now that I am a great fan of it ✨️

Soooo : what type of musics the boys listen to? I can easily see for Fool or Misuta but the other are quite a mystery to me on that side and it is making me curious !

(Also : we watched Frozen as you said, seems like it soften the jester a bit until my doggo decide that he wanted to play with Sol's dear glove, my bad)

Oh this is tricky

Misuta listens to a lot of synth and prog rock, anything from the 80s particularly.

Fool listens to everything and enjoys everything but particularly older stuff, opera and musicals.

Sunspot loves jive and midcentury stuff, rock n roll etc. He also listens to your Deathcab and Owl City type indie music!

Nova anything as long as it is loud and has a high bpm. Sol really likes very old jazz and r&b, the stuff from the first half of the 1900s! He also enjoys Erik Satie as well as classical guitar stuff </3

#gitm au #ghost in the machine au #asks answered #this was a toughie #misuta moon #fool eclipse #sunspot mk1 #nova #soleil

[thesmokingguns]

Cum Again

Minors DNI 18+

Mentions of sex, cum play, rough sex

His bed creaked as you shifted your hips, riding him as he thumbed your clit, playing it like he was playing his bass. His eyes locked onto the way your breasts bounced , nipples hard and the soft swell of your curves alluring. His thumb pushed against you as you rocked on him, groaning loudly at the sensation.

He loved watching you ride him. The way your stomach moved with him inside of you, how your thighs shook as they flexed as you rose and dropped on his cock. His balls smacked against you and made that wet sound from the way you pussy was leaking, wetting everything in the stickiness of your juices as you moved.

"You like that?" he teased as you nodded your head, lips parted but reduced to no words, just facial expressions and weak head movements for him. How did he expect you to speak when you were half cock drunk and full exhausted, "Would you like to cum? Do you think you’ve earned it?" he knew you were close from the way your moans came from your throat and you bucked your hips wildly.

The way Duff knew exactly how to tease you, knew to start talking to you when he was getting close because there was nothing like his dirty talk that got you close. You would blush and act embarrassed but when he talked about what he was doing to you he could feel the way your pussy flexed instinctively on his cock with that juicy need for more.

"So close Duff, please." The four words took a lot out of you to say and he smiled, loving how he could make you so cock drunk from him. He wanted you to be this helpless and needy for him all the time.

The blonde rolled you both , bending your thigh to your chest as he pressed into your deeper and harder, the way your breath caught at the sensation and you moaned out you grabbed the waves of his blonde hair , smashing his lips against yours. He could feel the way your walls contracted against him, tight as they squeezed and massaged his cock as you orgasmed.

Duff was going deep, knowing you would be whimpering and hobbling later from the way he drove himself deep into your body, smacking your cervix and feeling you tighten on reflex around him. But you liked when it hurt a little or a lot. Getting hurt during sex was a kink to you, something he had to be warmed up to but took full advantage of now.

He wasn't going to be able to last, he knew that. Not with the way that you clung to him, nipples, dragging across his chest as you shook from your orgasm. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, they had snapped shut as your back arched and you trembled through your pleasure. Three pumps later and his cock was filling you, pearly white semen filling you up as he bucked his hips to drive it in deeper, stuffing you full of his cum like it was a gift.

You were panting, taking it all in as you watched him look down, swiping the edge of his cock with his thumb to bring up a mixture of both of your cum to your lips and watching the way your tongue darted out to clean it off. The instinct of it, knowing that he wanted you to taste the both of you and how you craved it. Only he would think to do something like that with you. Only Duff knew you this intimately.

"My dirty little freak." he was pleased with you, falling beside you as he rolled you with him, his cock growing flaccid as it stayed inside you, "I wouldn't trade you for the world."

Curling you beside him, he dragged one of your legs over his thighs, the small gasp you made as you felt his cum start to leak out. The blush on your cheeks as he smirked, hand sliding from your thigh to your pussy, pushing two finger in. The squelching wet sound they made making your ears burn in embarrassment. Your pussy all torn up and used by his cock now squeezing around his fingers as he laughed softly, adams apple bobbing.

“Look at you. All fucked out and yet your pussy is still squeezing begging me for more. I just wanted to plug you up. Keep my cum in that fertile sweet pussy and you’re already trying to get fucked again.” he was teasing you as you tried not to hump his hand, but you were always so desperate around him, you couldn’t help how you reacted.

Duff swirled his fingers, they were covered in the mix of both of you and you groaned so loudly, pushing against his fingers. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you thought about begging him to please stop his torture. YOu weren’t sure that you could handle the teasing. BUt that wasn’t what came out.

“Please fuck me again.” Duff looked at you, looked at the way you seemed just as shocked by the words and smiled, pulling his fingers from you and sliding them into your mouth.

“Gladly.” He was rolling you back, opening your legs as you moaned, the tip of his cock sliding into you as he pressed his weight against you and held you against the mattress, “It’s so fucking hot how much you want me. How you beg me for it.” he groaned.

“Need you.” you couldn’t even make full sentences and you knew he was eating this shit up. Knew Duff loved hearing you ask him for more.

“You just lay there, let me use you up again and then you need to sleep; this is just the first day I’m back. We have a full day tomorrow and I don’t want to use you all up tonight.” he was teasing you, well aware that he’d wake up with you ready to go again.

“Yes, Duffy.” he smirked, kissing your lips as rocked into you. He had missed this.

#duff mckagan fanfiction #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fanfic #duff McKagan fan fic #duff McKagan fan fiction #duff McKagan imagine #duff McKagan x you #gnr #gun n roses #guns n roses fan fic #gnr fanfic #gnr fan fic #GUns n roses fanfic #80s rock #80s rock fan fic

[nuttyblizzardinternet]

Tiffany Valentine headcannons for my upcoming fan fic

Full name: Tiffany Beatrice Valentine

Age: 23 (before the events of bride)

Appearance: 5'7, curvy, asian italian mix, dark curly hair, brown eyes,

Personal life: Grew up in a small town in Illinois was poor lived with her mother and younger sister. Father left when she was 12 went to go to the store for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. Lived in a small house and had a collection of porcelain dolls and thrift store nick nacks had a thing for becoming a super model and was into fashion. Ran away from home at 16 and joined a delinquent gang of misfits. Started smoking, dressed edgy and dyed her hair to fit in. Went to jail for 2 years for vandalism and got released. Moved into a trailer park and works a 9 to 5 job at a diner in Lockport Illinois serving as a waitress and is a culprit behind a mysterious case of murders.

Relationships: Charles Lee Ray dated for 6 years til his untimely death and spent ten years searching for him

Family:

(Mother) Eudora Rose Valentine

ʲᵉʷⁱˢʰ/ ⁱᵗᵃˡⁱᵃⁿ/ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵘᵖˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ⁿᵉʷ ʸᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵍᵉ: 50

(Father) Franklin Karter Peterson

ᶜʰⁱⁿᵉˢᵉ/ ⁱᵗᵃˡⁱᵃⁿ/ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ⁿᵉʷ ʲᵉʳˢᵉʸ ᵃᵍᵉ: 53

(Sister) Wendy Lia Valentine

ᶜʰⁱⁿᵉˢᵉ/ ⁱᵗᵃˡⁱᵃⁿ/ ʲᵉʷⁱˢʰ/ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵒⁱˢ ᵃᵍᵉ: 19

Pets: Tarantula named Charlotte and a fish named Gary

Hobbies: sewing, knitting, collecting, baking, gardening, driving, sight seeing, shopping, and murder

Music taste: soft rock, 60s and 80s pop, and grunge favorite artists include, Blondie, Madonna, Nancy Sinatra, and Courtney Love.

Favorite foods: Cherry cheesecake, Salmon, and grilled chicken.

Favorite drinks: red wine, iced tea, and cherry pepsi

Home:

Interior:

Follow pt2. For more

#tiffanyvalentine #brideofchucky #headcannons #chucky #slasher #info #trailer trash barbie

[grapenehifics]

Not to tell you about *every* time I hear Solsbury Hill on the radio but…

Can you tell us why you picked it as the title for your fic? I feel there’s more to your reasoning than “grab your things I’ve come to take you home” and I’d love to hear your thoughts [it’s also maybe pretty obvious(?) but I’m really, really shit at 1) song lyrics 2) song meanings and 3) applying them to other contexts 🙈]

My friend, there is almost nothing I would rather talk about than the intersection between Peter Gabriel*, Genesis, Solsbury Hill the place, Solsbury Hill the song, and Solsbury Hill the fic.

(*Peter Gabriel, and all the members of Genesis, are real people, and would probably tell this story very differently. But they're not here to correct me [oh god, at least, I hope not], and this is how I heard the story, and I am going to tell it the way I know it. Apologies to all those living or dead.)

Sometime in the late 1960s a group of British schoolboys formed the prog rock band Genesis, and by the early 1970s they were...maybe not world-famous, but huge by prog rock standards, anyway, with a couple of albums and a tour. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway came out and it was a big enough deal that they got offered an American tour, too.

They were all still pretty young (they'd started basically in high school) and Peter Gabriel, their lead singer and main songwriter, had recently got married and he and his wife had a baby (this will become relevant in a second). So they go on the American tour and maybe about halfway through Peter turns to his bandmates and is like, "so...I'll finish the tour with you, because I promised I would, but when we get back home I'm quitting the band."

The other guys were stunned, obviously, because this was the moment they'd worked for. They'd already gotten through all the shitty garage band years, which is where most people give up, and now they were at the good part! They were on an international tour! The money was good! Their albums were selling! They had more fans than they'd ever thought they'd have! What on earth would possess someone to want to give all that up?

(The part of this story that is less-charitable to Peter Gabriel is that one of the answers he gave was 'more creative freedom' and his band was like...but you already write all our songs? What possible *more* creative freedom do you think you need?)

It wasn't just the band, though. His managers and the record company and everyone all told him that was a terrible, terrible idea, and there were a sizable contingent of Genesis fans who just refused to follow him to his solo career because they were mad at him for walking out on Genesis, wrecking the band, how dare he be so ungrateful...

(Genesis did fine without him, actually. Phil Collins took over on vocals and they had another couple of albums and some hit songs before going kind of weirdly soft-rock in the 80s.)

Also - and this is an important detail - when he left the band, there was no solo career. He didn't have any songs. I don't think he even had an agent. He was kind of on the outs with the industry for pulling that stunt. He spent the first year after he quit - while Genesis was recording a new album without him - just hanging out at home with his wife and baby daughter.

Eventually he did get back in the studio, and one of the songs on his first solo album was Solsbury Hill, largely regarded to be the most autobiographical of his songs (Solsbury Hill is an actual, physical hill in Somerset, near where he grew up). It's pretty blatantly about quitting Genesis, including being unhappy in the band:

So I went from day to day Though my life was in a rut

I was feeling part of the scenery

And liberty, she pirouette When I think that I am free

and trying to get up the courage to leave even knowing it would almost universally be regarded as a really dumb move and would very possibly end his entire music career even though he was still in his twenties:

My friends would think I was a nut Open doors would soon be shut

But eventually doing it anyway:

To keep in silence I resigned

I walked right out of the machinery

I will show another me

Then he writes about how, even though it was scary and he didn't know what the consequences were going to be, he was glad he did it:

Though my life was in a rut 'Til I thought of what I'd say Which connection I should cut

Today I don't need a replacement I'll tell them what the smile on my face meant

And he personifies all this as a person, or more accurately hearing a voice (while climbing Solsbury Hill, hence the title), and the progression of what the voice tells him mirrors the rest of the lyrics. First it's:

"Son, " he said "Grab your things, I've come to take you home."

and

"Hey, " he said "Grab your things, I've come to take you home."

But the final lines are the singer answering back:

"Hey, " I said "You can keep my things, they've come to take me home."

And not to belabor the metaphor, but that's what I see as the equivalent of the first quarter or so of Solsbury Hill the fic, at least the beginning to the Bakersfield hospital chapters. Peter Gabriel and Anakin both got the exact thing they thought they wanted - a record deal, a tour, money, fame, wealth - and then turned out once they had it, they actually didn't really want it all that much anymore, and the reality of it wasn't worth keeping it.

But also mixed in there is some shame, right, because to everyone else it looks like you have it all. Every kid around the world with a guitar and a garage bands wants what you have. Every kid on their school swim team watching the Olympics on TV wants that. And now you've got it, and you're just...going to hand it back? Say it's not good enough? This thing that feeds your family and lets you see the world? How dare you spit on that!

But all they really want - in both stories - is more time with the people they love. And yes, in both cases, there are ways to fix that - Peter Gabriel could have taken his wife and baby with him on tour, Anakin could have not fired Obi-Wan and taken up with Palpatine - but in the middle of that situation and looking down the barrel of year after year of touring and competition and the toll it takes on your body and your mental health - suddenly the smart play starts looking like turning you back on it, tearing the whole thing down, and starting over. Even if it means living without the money and the fame and the recognition and universal goodwill. Who cares. Keep it all. Keep my things; I don't need them; I just need you.

I'm going home.

#solsbury hill

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

If there were a teen wolf and spn cross over episode Dean and stiles would literally turn into father son reflections of each other. I mean you CANT TELL ME DEAN WOULDNT INSTANTLY ADOPT STILES their undying love for their cars, junk food, 80s rock, and almost blinding bisexuality would literally turn them into instant best friends UGHDUENSKSMSKKS THEY WOULD GET A LONG SO WELL UGHHSUDNEOQMSK I can't live in a world without a stiles and Dean crossover episode

Someone get me a fan fic IM LITERALLY DYING FOR THIS I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS

#teen wolf #supernatural #bringing my two favourite monster tv shpws togther #especially because they habe so many of the same monsters #and underlying themes of love and friendship #it would be so fun #like spn is just tw without the pg warning #and come on you cant tell me scott and sam wouldn't get along #my two favourite nerd monster/hunters #cass and derek would be so opposed to each other at first but they'd literally go around mirroring the same moves and then freak out #at how similar they are #UGHH AND ROWENA WOULD LOVE LYDIA #AND DEAN AND SAM WOULD TOTALLY GEEK OUT OVER ALL OF ALLISONS HUNTER TECH #stiles stilinski #dean winchester #sam winchester #derek hale #castiel

[steddieunderdogfics]

je ne retrette nien by hitlikehammers

@ tumblr

Rating: Explicit

24,799 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Rock Star Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin Makes It ‘Big Enough’, Big Enough to Have Custom-Cast Novelty Dildos in the Merch Store? Who’s To Say?, Yes: That Concept is Straight Out of the Rammstein Playbook—Thanks For Asking, Husbands Who Snark Together Stay Together, Sex Toys But Make It Also Fluffy, Eddie Munson: Rockstar in the Streets; Clingy Fuck in the Sheets, Corroded Coffin Makes Fornication Music For Their Deviant Fans, (Steve Harrington is their #1 Fan), Steve Harrington Remembers How To Play Five Whole Notes on the Piano, (Five Is More Than Enough to Get Him Into Fucking Trouble), (and an album credit—fucking trouble AND an album credit), Borderline Crack Absolutely Treated Seriously, Because These Characters Would 100 Percent Treat It Seriously, Husbands and Metal and Sex Toys: Oh My!, Very Unapologetically Domestic, They Are Husbands: So FEELINGS, They Are Dorks: So HUMOR, There Are Dildos: So PORN, Because Frankly: It Grew More Feelings, and It Grew WAAAY More Porn, (because of the dildos finally making their appearance natch), Just Steve and Eddie Living Their Best Married Lives Really, In Which Their Biggest Problem Is How To Get Steve To Agree To Making A Silicone Mold of His Dick, That Is In Fact The Entire Vibe of This Fic Yes, Just Rockstar/Coupley Things and Stuff, (including cinnamon flavored lube don’t fuckin @ me), (actually that’s not true pls @ me all the time about these dumb rockstar!husbands), (seriously though iltsm)

Summary:

Eddie always said Corroded Coffin was a band that was ‘big enough’—and Steve generally agreed. They were big enough that the core of their fanbase had evolved from late-80s metalheads to include the vaguely obsessive diehards of the internet era who picked apart liner notes like they held the answers to god and the universe and everything, but they still never had to dodge the paps outside their house. It was weird, but the band was fucking weird, and Steve-and-Eddie were likewise pretty goddamn weird, so it mostly worked out fine. Until the fans started questioning the stupidly out-of-place performance credit listed on track fucking nine once Studio Album Seven finally got its release date. - - - Or: it is perhaps deeply unfortunate that, on the album that Corroded Coffin agrees to release a limited edition box set of custom-cast fucking dildos for, Steve Harrington is unwittingly listed as a contributing musician. Or else: maybe it’s not unfortunate. At all.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was crack treated seriously.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #challenge monday #crack treated seriously #crack fic #rated e #future fic #established relationship

[cherrylng]

STYLE Series #004 - Muse (August 2010)

"Oh hey, Cherry! I saw that you're gonna do another scan and translation soon! It's gonna be a lot to show us, isn't it?"

Page 4 - Muse Gallery Page 18 - “The Resistance” Interview

"Wow, that's neat!"

RETROSPECTIVE Page 32 - “Absolution” Interview (2003) Page 42 - -2000-2004 Memories of Muse conversation Page 46 - “HAARP”/Summer Sonic 06 Interview (2007/2006) Page 49 - “Showbiz” Interview

"Oh, wow, that's gonna make lots of Musers happy to see this!"

DISC GUIDE Page 62 - Album Page 72 - Album/DVD Page 75 - Compilation Page 76 - Single/EP

"Oh, that's... that's a lot for you to cover this."

PLAY & GEAR ANALYSIS Page 84 - Matthew Bellamy Tour Equipment (Guitar) Page 97 - Matthew Bellamy Tour Equipment (Amp & Effects Edition) Page - 103 Chris as a bassist Page 106 - Matthew Play & Composition Analysis Page 116 - Dominic as a drummer

"Are they... are they really dedicating the whole magazine just for Muse???"

100 ALBUMS TO UNDERSTAND MUSE 121 100 ALBUMS TO UNDERSTAND MUSE

COLUMN Page 52 - The History of the “Guitar Prince” up to Matthew Bellamy Page 56 - Finally, a breakthrough! The Key to Success in the U.S. Page 58 - In a league of strange and wonderful costumes? Fashion tips for Matthew Bellamy Page 80 - “Twilight” series inspired by Muse Page 134 - Muse's Origin in 90's Alternative Rock Page 138 - Loves melodies, layered guitars, and orchestras... Muse is a modern-day progressive rock band? Page 140 - Don't miss it! The rich world of “emo” resonating with Muse Page 142 - The best live act of our time = Muse's stage performance

FAN SITE Page 145 - The appeal of Muse, according to a fan site operator

"...Cherry, are you alright?"

Cherry: You know what, I'm gonna procrastinate on this by spam reblogging Muse posts or finishing up that Wobell fic that I've been working on instead!

#Matt Bellamy #Dom Howard #Chris Wolstenholme #Muse #The Resistance era #my scan #what monstrous magazine did I even buy from Japan??? #just holy shit