chris was eddie's ray of sunshine
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eeeeeEEEEE I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW WE WOULD GET SOMETHING THIS MONTH!!!
ALSO, about three weeks from now... IS leap day! Haha! The books code has been cracked! Unless, of course, we get new TOP music sooner...
(For context, altguy has a good track record of predicting things. They even leaked Shy Away's release date.)
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Rock Werchter with Pearl Jam, Metallica, Imagine Dragons and Red Hot Chilli Peppers
30 June - 3 July 2022, Werchter, Belgium
More information and tickets at https://www.rockwerchter.be/
Want more festivals? Check out our Festival Calendar for a complete list.
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I haven't been posting because this week has absolutely sucked, so here, for all our sakes, have the expanded version WIP of Bruce Wayne and the alternate Kon who showed up on his doorstep and isn't answering to "Superboy".
Read-more for length.
Bruce opens the front door of the manor and Kon-El is standing on the steps in unassuming civilian clothes that don't look like they belong either on a farm or at a punk concert, a cheap duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his hands jammed tight into his pockets, body language unsettled and uncomfortable.
"I'll call Tim down," Bruce says, already resigned to putting up with the kid at dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. Every time he shows up looking like this, Tim refuses to let him leave before a full twenty-four hours are up.
"Please don't," Kon says tightly, and Bruce . . . pauses. Looks at him more closely.
Processes.
There's a faint little unfamiliar scar on Kon's face. A thin white line splitting his left eyebrow, as if someone actually hit him hard enough to bleed. He's not wearing any earrings, and the scattered piercings that should be in his ears . . . aren't. There's one, but only one. His build is off. A little less brute strength in it; a little more flexibility. He's standing like he doesn't know how to fight.
And, again: the scar.
When and how did anyone actually cut him like that?
"'Don't'?" Bruce repeats, his eyes just barely narrowing.
"There were eighty-four pearls," Kon says, and Bruce's gut goes cold.
Tim didn't teach him that. Tim would never. None of them would ever. Even Jason was never angry or bitter or broken enough to compromise that code.
So someone else taught it to him.
"The doctor is out," Bruce replies by rote, perfectly neutral, and Kon's shoulders sag with . . . relief. He's relieved. He didn't know if Bruce would know what he was saying.
He wanted Bruce to know what he was saying.
"I'm sorry," Kon says, swallowing roughly. "I fucked up real bad this time, B."
That's not something Kon's ever called him. The look on his face isn't an expression Kon's ever directed at him.
This isn't Kon.
"Name," Bruce orders, just as perfectly neutral.
"Jackson Kyle," Kon mutters, his eyes slanting away guiltily. Bruce is in no way inattentive or oblivious enough to miss either Tim's middle name or Selina's last one in that answer, much less the guilt. "Technically."
"Technically?" Bruce asks, not even bothering with a pointed tone, and "Jackson's" mouth twists. He doesn't bring his eyes back to Bruce's face.
"That's not what you call me," he says.
"Inside," Bruce says, stepping back from the doorway. Jackson swallows again, visibly steeling himself, then steps across the threshold. Bruce doesn't ask why what "he" calls him is more his name than the technical answer is, and doesn't ask what "he" calls him either.
That's the whole damn point of that code phrase, after all.
"Report," Bruce orders as soon as he closes the door, and Jackson shifts his center of balance and stops standing like he doesn't know how to fight.
And meets Bruce's eyes again, too.
"Alternate reality," Jackson says, and sounds just like any one of them when the worst has happened. "Things went–bad. Level Omega, final phase. You ordered me to take the out. I said no, and you shoved me through anyway."
Of course he did, Bruce thinks.
Jackson would've died with that version of him, otherwise.
"Solo flight?" he checks without any actual hope for a merciful answer. Not if Jackson had to be forced to take the out.
"Yes, sir," Jackson says, his hands curling into fists at his sides and his mouth going tight. "Nightwing was already–it was solo."
Bruce doesn't imagine a version of himself that had to bury Dick.
That didn't have time to bury Dick, more than likely.
"Downstairs for decontamination, containment procedures, and questioning," he says. Jackson nods, short and efficient. He doesn't protest the precautions.
Maybe Kon would've, but Bruce doesn't actually know him well enough to know.
This version of the kid knows all about him, though, doesn't he.
He takes Jackson to his study. They don't run into Tim or Alfred on the way, and no one else is in the manor right now.
That's for the best.
Bruce looks at Jackson. Waits. Jackson glances at him, then to the grandfather clock.
Its hands move. Tactile telekinesis, obviously.
And 10:48.
Obviously.
The door to the cave opens.
So yes, Jackson knows all about him, and the manor, and the cave, and who knows what else.
Bruce walks through the door. Jackson follows him, bag and all, and Bruce can't hear either his clothes rustling or his footsteps on the stairs behind him. He doesn't bother pretending the kid is flying. He knows he's not.
He walks down the stairs to the cave floor. Walks to the computer. Turns to look back at Jackson, who, yes, is not flying.
He waits.
Jackson stops in the middle of the floor. He drops his bag and strips off his clothes without any sign of modesty or hesitation, then takes both bag and clothes to the autoclave, shoves them into it, locks the outer seal, and activates the sterilization process. Then he heads for the decontamination showers. Bruce follows him. He's not ready to let the kid out of his sight.
Jackson very obviously knows where everything in the cave is. Knows how everything in the cave works.
Knows it by reflex; by heart.
Watching him move through the place like a ghost haunting its own graveyard is not an experience that Bruce is enjoying.
Jackson walks into the decontamination showers, flicks the first one on, and goes through the exact scrub-down process that Bruce has taught every single one of them. He's efficient and effective, and doesn't either rush through or take his time with it.
Bruce waits in the doorway and doesn't wonder what's in the duffel bag, or why Jackson didn't unpack it before throwing it into the autoclave.
He knows what's in the duffel bag.
Of course he does.
Jackson finishes the scrub-down process and turns off the shower. The water all sluices off his body all at once and spatters down against the tile floor, leaving his hair and skin completely dry. Tactile telekinesis, again. No noticeable gesture to direct it, though; not even a glance this time. And not a potential application of it that Bruce was aware of either, though perhaps one he should've extrapolated.
Bruce steps back from the doorway and Jackson leaves the showers. He still doesn't seem concerned to be naked.
"Where's Jason?" he asks carefully. The nonsequitur makes absolutely no sense to Bruce, until Jackson's eyes flick to where the memorial–isn't, anymore.
"Stakeout," Bruce replies neutrally, refraining from providing a location, and Jackson . . . blinks.
"Oh," he says, just barely frowning. "But . . . Tim's here."
"It's complicated," Bruce says. Jackson's frown deepens, but he doesn't ask any more questions. He heads for the locker room and Bruce follows after. Bruce suspects he only diverted from SOP enough to ask about Jason because he already knew about Tim's presence in the manor. Kon is . . . irrational, about Tim. It's not difficult to believe that Jackson might share that particular character flaw.
Especially given his name.
Jackson walks past Tim's locker without stopping. Bruce doesn't think for a moment that he doesn't know who it belongs to. Jackson goes to the back and opens one of the lockers with spare clothes inside, and that . . . he pauses after that, for some reason.
He doesn't say anything, though, and then he just checks through the clothing labels neatly and efficiently until he finds options that'll fit and takes them out. He doesn't seem concerned with anything but the sizes, which seems . . . odd, for Kon.
But this isn't Kon, Bruce reminds himself.
Jackson pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt. They don't belong to Jason, but Bruce put them into that locker with Jason in mind. They don't fit Jackson quite as tightly as they'd likely fit Kon.
They're soft, Bruce knows. And warm, too.
It's a useless thing to think, but he thinks it anyway because this is a boy from a final-phase Level Omega reality whose Batman forced to take the out; a boy who knows exactly how many pearls there were and exactly what time his parents died and exactly where Jason's memorial used to stand in the cave.
A boy who doesn't want to see Tim, but is carrying a part of his name.
But that name isn't what his Batman called him.
"Containment," Bruce instructs as Jackson closes the locker. He doesn't think it's a necessary instruction, given how perfectly Jackson's been following procedure so far, but he's thinking about the way the kid showed up looking and the way he had to brace himself before he could cross the threshold of the manor and just how perfectly he's been following procedure.
"Yes, sir," Jackson says, turning back towards him and pushing up the sleeves of the soft black shirt that doesn't belong to Jason. "But, uh . . . the standard protocols might not work."
Bruce doesn't realize what he means for a moment, and then he remembers the obvious issue–alternate reality. Different Earth. The standard protocols for a Kryptonian unknown involve blue kryptonite, and their reality's kryptonite likely won't affect Jackson.
That's . . . a concern. One he should've thought of immediately.
Eighty-four pearls, though.
Magic, Bruce reminds himself. Magic would still work. Or red sunlight. Hell, he could just call Clark over right now. Kon-El isn't a Superman-level threat, at least not yet. It's unlikely Jackson Kyle is either.
He was with a Batman, though.
Bruce isn't sure what kind of results to expect from that.
He does consider actually calling Clark, but Jackson clearly isn't a Super. Jackson is . . .
Jackson is his responsibility. No one else's.
And Jackson came to him, not Clark.
"The promethium restraints," Bruce says evenly.
"Yes, sir," Jackson says, and still doesn't protest the precautions. Then he stills, his eyes flicking towards the stairs. "Someone just opened the clock. I don't–know their heartbeat."
"Tim and Alfred are the only ones in the manor right now," Bruce tells him.
Jackson . . . swallows. Flicks his eyes back to him.
And, Bruce notes, away from the stairs.
"Then it's Tim," Jackson says. Which means he doesn't know Tim's heartbeat. Which means he's likely never heard it before, even though he knows who Tim is.
How old had Tim been before Kon had developed super-hearing?
Not old enough, Bruce already knows.
"Maintain standard distance," he says. Jackson has to be more than fast enough to hurt or kill Tim from anywhere in the cave before Bruce could even hope to stop him, but that's not why he says it. He's . . . establishing something.
Or testing it.
"Yes, sir," Jackson says, still without protest. Bruce is feeling increasingly wary over that level of compliance, given that one of Kon's most reliably present coping mechanisms has always been stubborn defiance.
Then again, the last time Jackson defied a Batman's orders was the last time he ever saw the man. And Bruce doesn't know the full extent of whatever relationship the two of them had, but they clearly had one.
Jackson's last name is Kyle, for fuck's sake.
And he knew exactly how many pearls there were.
Bruce looks towards the stairs. He knows Tim's pace; knows just when to expect him to come into view. Jackson keeps his own eyes on him, nowhere near the stairs, and stays perfectly silent. He doesn't so much as shift his weight.
"Uh . . . is something wrong?" Tim asks warily as soon as he's visible, because him being visible means he can see Jackson himself, of course, and also of course he's not seeing Jackson yet.
And Bruce has never brought Kon down to the cave like this. Kon's only actually been in here about as many times as he's been on-deck for a Gotham-centered all-hands, in fact, which has not been many.
"Yes," Bruce says. Jackson's jaw tightens. Tim frowns.
"What's going on?" he asks.
"Unidentified alternate reality went Level Omega and hit final phase," Bruce says, then links his hands behind his back and tips his head towards Jackson with a neutral expression. He's not interested in drawing out the explanation, for more than a few reasons. "Refugee reporting in. Solo flight."
". . . what?" Tim says blankly. "But that's . . ."
"Tim Drake, Jackson Kyle," Bruce introduces bluntly. "Jackson Kyle, Tim Drake. Red Robin."
Jackson's scarred eyebrow twitches once, but he doesn't otherwise visibly react.
Or look at Tim.
"'Jackson'?" Tim repeats, looking bewildered. He seems to have forgotten to finish coming down the stairs. "And–solo flight? How did you even . . . ?"
"He was ordered to take the out," Bruce says. "Didn't comply, so his Batman forced the issue. Been through decontamination; moving onto containment and questioning."
"That's not the protocol for a Super," Tim says, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Not any version of a Super."
"When we have a Super on our hands, we'll enact the relevant protocols for one," Bruce replies evenly.
"Shit," Tim says.
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Twenty-Eight Across
Prompt Day 28: Proposal | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Heavy Petting, Fade to Black Sex, Afterglow | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Long-Term Love, Fluff, Softness, Proposal, Eddie POV
The sun is just barely starting to creep over the horizon, and Eddie snuggles closer to Steve in the warmth of their bed. He wishes he could sleep in, but his internal clock gets him up with the sun, no matter if it's his day off, or not.
But he won't complain about being awake for lazy, cozy mornings in bed with Steve. Even if Steve's still asleep, his hair a mess, fluffed out on the pillow under his head.
These quiet, sun-kissed moments are some of Eddie's favorite minutes all week. The slow climb of the sun, illuminating Steve a little more with each passing second. And Eddie gets to watch it happen in slow motion, up close and personal.
He never dreamed he'd get to grow up and be this happy. This settled.
That he'd have all this chosen family, surrounding him with love and affection that he hopes he returns tenfold.
Twenty years. He's been with Steve for twenty years.
From when they were just scared kids, having barely survived the fucking apocalypse, to grown men, with jobs and lives.
And yet, he still wants more. He feels selfish that he even thinks this life he loves isn't enough, just as it is.
Eddie gets up and showers, and when he gets out, the mirror is steamed up, so he writes Steve a message.
Marry Me?
He looks at it, then scrubs it away with the hand towel. That's not good enough. Nothing he's ever thought up has been good enough. Steve deserves something perfect. Something romantic, and that's not exactly Eddie's strong suit.
He goes to sit at the table, and starts doing the crossword in the morning paper, drinking his coffee.
He works on one across: pop the question. Three letters. Eddie scribbles in ask.
Then there's four across: that guy! Three letters again, and Eddie writes in him, taking another drink of his coffee.
Seven across: Vedder, of Pearl Jam, and Eddie laughs, writing in his own first name: Eddie.
Ask him, Eddie is the crossword gods really fucking with him, at this point. He's definitely lodging a complaint with Nancy at the paper. It feels like he's being taunted, and he's taking it personally.
He does a few more, then twenty-eight across is crazy long, and when he reads the clue, generic proposal, he counts out the letters, and sure enough: will you marry me?
Now, the universe is definitely taunting him.
He folds the paper over, not in the mood to finish.
Then, Steve clears his throat from the doorway to their bedroom. Eddie turns to look at him, and smiles, just seeing him. He's sleep rumpled, in just his boxer-briefs. Looking beautiful, and happy.
His belly has gotten a little softer with middle age, but he's never been more beautiful in Eddie's eyes. Eddie feels so lucky.
They have this whole life they've built together. They don't need to be married to be a family. They've been that since they decided they were in this thing together, forever.
"Finish your crossword?" Steve asks, leaning against the doorframe.
"Most of it," Eddie answers, standing up and crossing the room, gathering Steve up in his arms. He's still warm from bed, and Eddie leans into him to steal a little of that body heat for himself.
"And?" Steve prompts.
"And what?" Eddie asks.
Steve chuckles, laying his head against Eddie's, leaning close to his ear, "Will you marry me or not?"
Eddie pulls back, looking in his eyes, and they are playful.
"You did that?" Eddie asks, slightly disbelieving.
"I did that," Steve confirms. "With Nance's help. But I did it, since you kept chickening out."
Eddie laughs, squeezing Steve tighter, "You weren't supposed to know that."
"I know everything about you," Steve whispers, and a shiver runs down Eddie's spine. Because it's true. Steve does.
"That so, Harrington?" Eddie asks, "What do I want, right now, then?"
"To go back to bed," Steve whispers, reaching down to cup Eddie's dick through his pajama bottoms. Palming him, rubbing his fingers back and forth.
Thumbing him, catching the head of his dick, even through his pants, well-practiced at the art of taking Eddie apart and driving him slowly mad.
Jesus H. Christ.
Yeah, that's exactly what Eddie wants. So, he nudges Steve's backwards, and Steve goes, willing, still working his hard dick through his clothes, still touching him, still kissing him.
Wanting to marry him.
Eddie presses Steve back against the sheets, ready to warm them back up again. He lines their dicks up, and grinds down. Pressing against him, making Steve squirm beneath him.
They know this dance well, and they fall into all the right moves. Getting each step perfect.
"So, you never answered my question?" Steve says, curling against Eddie. Pressing their warm, sweat-slick, naked bodies together.
"Yes," Eddie answers, meeting Steve's eyes, "of course, yes."
Steve smiles, "Good. I got tired of watching you be so nervous."
Eddie laughs, "That obvious?"
"Just for the last year or two," Steve teases, hooking his chin over Eddie's shoulder. "I knew you wanted to do it, so I wanted to let you, but it was getting painful."
Eddie laughs, full and loud. He loves his man.
"And I just want to be your husband. So, I asked. I hope you're not disappointed."
"No," Eddie says quickly, "never. I could never be disappointed by getting to marry you. It was perfect. Better than anything I've thought up."
"That's not true," Steve says, "I really liked the jumbotron plan from last fall."
"Goddammit, those fuckfaces," Eddie swears, banging his head against his pillow, "all our shitty friends talked me out of that."
"I know, and all our shitty friends hate sports, honey. You were thinking of what I like, and you were right. I mean, in general, you shouldn't use the jumbotron unless you're sure of the answer."
"I was sure of the answer," Eddie whispers, and feels foolish.
"Good. You should be sure, always."
Notes: I googled to see if I could find the clue that would produce will you marry me as an answer, and came up with this article of someone that did it in real life. And that clue was "generic proposal" - which, perfect. I also found another instance that someone used "words with a certain ring to them" to get to it, but I liked using the proposal one since that was the prompt word!
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 💍📰✏️
If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
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tutoring gig (joel miller x f/reader AU)
summary: you picked up a tutoring gig teaching joel's daughter, sarah, english in the evenings. on your way to their house one night, a storm catches you off guard and you're forced to spend the night. once his daughter goes to bed, there is some undeniable tension between you and joel that you can't seem to ignore...
a/n: i mentioned it in the story a few times but just in case anyone misses it, reader is in her 20's!!! don't come at me!!
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You let out a shaky breath as you knocked at the door, your body trembling from the cold. You had walked over to your tutoring gig, which you had gotten as a co-op in your fourth year of University. It had been going on a few months, and you quite enjoyed it, thanks to the high school student you were tutoring in English being super eager to learn and pass her classes. Along with that, her dad was super kind and welcomed you into their home like a friend.
The only problem was that this time, as you began the twenty-minute walk, it had begun to pour with rain. Now, you were shaking like a leaf, absolutely soaked, your hair stuck to your face and your clothes weighing down your body.
The door swung open and you were greeted by Joel, his tall body leaning against the doorframe. He looked you up and down quickly, noticing your state.
“Hey.” You laughed awkwardly.
He opened the door wider and let you in, and you were immediately met with the warmth of his home. “I was gonna text you to postpone because of the storm.” He closed the door behind you and you stood on the doormat, not sure what to do.
“I know you usually walk, so…” He put a hand on your back, looking around frantically.
You shook your head. “It started raining after I left.” You laughed, embarrassed by your state. You probably looked like a wet dog. Placing your bag on the ground, you let out a deep breath.
“Sarah!” Joel yelled, and after a few seconds, the fifteen-year-old came down the stairs, looking at you with shock. “Can you grab a towel?” He asked her.
She laughed softly. “Yeah. Hey Y/N.”
“Hi.” You smiled, shrugging off your sweater that was dripping onto the hardwood floor.
Joel chuckled when you brushed your soaking hair from your face. “So, how’ve you been?”
“Good. You?” You looked up at him and noticed he looked more tired than usual. His hair was tussled and his eyes seemed heavy. He looked strangely handsome, but you shoved down that thought the second you conjured it up.
“Pretty good.” His lips curled into a smile.
When Sarah tossed you a towel you immediately wrapped it around yourself, letting it soak up the droplets of water from your skin. You kicked off your boots, and Joel took your sweater. “I can throw your stuff in the dryer. Maybe you could borrow somethin’ of hers to wear…”
You looked over at Sarah, her tiny body compared to yours quickly giving you the answer to that proposition. “I don’t think I’d fit.”
“Okay, I’ll give you somethin’.” Joel led you to the stairs, and you started to ascend. You couldn’t lie, the thought of wearing his clothes sent a thrill through your body, although you couldn’t put your finger on why.
He brought you to his large bedroom and went to his drawers, pulling them open and looking for some clothes. You stood there awkwardly, hugging yourself with the towel.
“Here.” He tossed you a pair of grey sweatpants, and you were hit with his scent, the homey, earthy scent of laundry, and something that was simply him.
“Better than nothing.” You laughed, holding them up. You would have to roll them up, but thankfully they had a drawstring that you could tie at your waist.
He then walked over to you with a worn white t-shirt, handing it to you. You held it up, reading the print.
“Pearl Jam.” You grinned, “Thanks.”
“You listen to ‘em?” He asked.
There was something warm in the room, and you couldn’t tell if it was just you. Your skin buzzed as he looked down at you, being in his bedroom alone with him had your mind wandering to places you weren’t used to.
His bed was unmade, his clothes were strewn about… it was intimate, being in there.
You cleared your throat. “Not really. But I know of them.”
“You should give 'em a listen. I’ll uh…” He turned, “Let you change.”
He ducked out of the room and closed the door. Some tutoring job this was. You certainly hadn’t planned to develop a weird crush on your student’s dad who was at least twenty years older than you in the span of five minutes. Sure, you had always found him kind of handsome, but he was much too old... right? You thought back to the other times he had made your stomach swirl in excitement, like that one time his hand lingered a little too long on your back as he passed you in the kitchen, or when he caught you teaching Sarah some English grammar he didn't know about and leaned over you to listen in. He turned the paper towards him, and his smell wafted by you as he chuckled... you remembered holding back a smile and feeling your cheeks go red. Another time, he offered for you to stay for dinner- even though he was a terrible cook- and despite his pasta being slightly overdone and the sauce kind of salty, you were infatuated by the gentle kindness that he so easily presented.
continue on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53994223
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I got my first ask!! Somebody asked for tattoo artist!julien x reader, so that’s what I did. I hope you like it 😘 the diehard Swiftie in me rly shows here.
Happy birthday
Today was my twenty-second birthday, i figured it was time to get my first tattoo. I had made my way into a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles, seeing a light haired girl at the counter.
“Hey, how can I help you?” She asked as I approached the front counter
“I was hoping to get a tattoo!” I answered
“Well you came to the right place” she laughed then kept going “what were you looking to have done?” I took out my phone and showed her a picture of the tattoo I wanted, a tattoo that that “If you never bleed you’re never gonna grow” In (swooping sloping) cursive letters, it was a line from my favorite Taylor Swift song.
“That’s a cool tattoo. I’m a huge Swiftie too! It shouldn’t take too long, we could definitely get you in today. Let me go ask Julien if she’s free right now” she said as she walked away. Soon, a brown eyed girl came out, covered in tattoos, and smiled at me.
“You’re the one who wants the Taylor Swift tattoo?” She questioned and I nodded
“I’m Julien, I’ll be doing your tattoo for you. And you are?” She puts her hands out for me to shake “Hi, I’m y/n.” I gladly shake her hand, gosh this woman’s attractive. I’m mesmerized.
“Nice to meet you, y/n. Can I just see your drivers license before we get started?” I nodded and got my license out of my purse and handed to her. She scanned it before saying “happy birthday!”
“Oh thank you so much” I smiled and laughed a little, she smiled back and it made me a blushing mess. “Ready to get started?” She asked “yeah” I answered and she started to lead me to the back, opening the door to her studio. “Wow it’s really nice in here” I said. The walls had beautiful art on it, and there were plants decorating the room. She smiled again “thank you. Come sit.” She pat the chair in front of her rolling one, I walked over and sat down. “So where are you wanting this tattoo?”she asked “I was thinking right under my breast” she looked back at my eyes. “Okay great, let’s get started. Did you wanna lift up your shirt or yknow take it off?”
“I could take it off” I smiled “okay” I took my shirt and bra off “are you nervous?” Julien asked “yeah very nervous actually” I giggled nervously “don’t be, I’ll talk to you and it’ll distract you. Or at least it does others. Lie back for me.” She said and I did as I was told, and then she gets to work, she put her needle on me and I cringed and whined a little “shh..shh..it’s okay. Tell me about you, y/n. Who do you listen to besides Taylor Swift?”
I tried to center myself and respond “I uh..uhm I-I like Conan gray and Olivia Rodrigo and uhm Sabrina Carpenter. I also really like older rock stuff like uh…Uhmmmm Nirvana and Pearl Jam and nine inch nails.” I responded hoping I didn’t stutter too much “that’s cool, I like them too. You know hardy?” She asked and she worked “yeah, yeah I went to his concert a couple weeks ago.” I responded “oh so did I! Small world. What do you do for a living?” She asked “uhm well right now I’m working for a local newspaper while I finish up my senior year of college but uh I’m working on becoming a musician.” I responded “that’s really nice, I’m in my senior year too. I also make music, I preform at that coffee shop around the corner, Amelias, on Saturday mornings, you should come see me.” She said…oh my god was she asking me out? “Yeah..yeah maybe I will.” I respond “you should…okay it looks like we’re done here.” She says, then puts the plastic over my tattoo and hands me my clothes. I put my clothes back on “it was really nice meeting you.” I said “yeah, the feelings mutual” she said and I left, going to the front desk to pay and then exiting. As I’m going out to my car I hear someone yelling after me “y/n!! Y/n wait!!” It was julien running after me, I stopped and turned around as she approached me “Julien?” I asked “you forgot your phone, must’ve fallen out of your bag.” She said, handing it back to me “thank you so much!” I said “No problem” she responded and walked back in. My phone case had a sticky note on it that read
“Please come see me on Saturday, and please text me
771-777-875
-Julien <3 “
Oh my god. She really was asking me out. I got into my car and texted the number immediately
“I definitely will be seeing you Saturday.”
“It’s y/n, by the way”
she responded
“Yeah I got that , lol. Happy birthday, pretty girl.”
I hope y’all liked it ❤️🩹
Edit: let me know if you want a part 2…I also have something written for tattoo artist!julien in an established relationship if you want that too ✏️
ANOTHER IMPORTANT EDIT: if you want crew!reader x Julien go check out mama g! @gingerjolover
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Eddie Vedder
Pearl Jam: Twenty | Date: Unknown
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・ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑.
❛ playing with fire in the twilight , wandering home . . . trouble - bound , 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 swept me off my feet . ( i was numb . ) nothing brings me back to life like walking out into the firing line . call it lust or losing sight , nothing brings me back to 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 . . . ❜
・ ⏤ quick links : pinterest + playlist .
・ 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
name : kyle wilder . nicknames : kai . age : twenty - seven . gender / pronouns : cismale & he / him . hometown : lincoln city , oregon . career : aspiring pro skater / extreme sports athlete + freelance . positive traits : spontaneous , charismatic , curious , free spirited & independent . neutral traits : realistic , sarcastic , stubborn , curious & impulsive . negative traits : destructive , closed off , manipulative , selfish & pessimistic .
𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 ,
𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠 ;
hair color : brown ( will dye it at any moment if he gets bored ) . eye color : blue . height : six foot , two inches . tattoos : currently 25 various tattoos . piercings : 2 , both lobes but usually only wears one . faceclaim : drew starkey .
𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑐 ;
artists streamed : nirvana , rage against the machine , badflower , soundgarden , alice in chains , pearl jam , led zeppelin , metallica , audioslave , beastie boys , boston manor , cleopatrick , bad omens , joey valence & brae , bring me the horizon , dead poet society , royal blood , the pale white , radiohead , nothing but thieves , grandson , system of a down , korn , tool , finger eleven , foo fighters . . . and many many more .
・ 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒.
𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 …
kai wilder , more known as an agent of chaos some would say . . . that some being me . . . i'm the one . it's very hard for kai to feel settled , always needing some sort of rush or adrenaline . that mostly leading into him getting himself into some sort of trouble along the way . he'll never admit to anything actually going on with him and claim he's just trying to have a little fun . even though , there's no doubt that he does everything he does because of the chaos that swarms inside his head . always seeming unserious , kai can flip around in his moods easily . one second he's joking around and the next he's bored and flips the script . he's very unpredictable in a lot of ways . . . then again , if you really know him , you probably feel his unpredictable chaotic behavior is to be expected . underneath it all , there's just a very lost human being but . . . that's a secret . or , he thinks so . he could be very high energy , mainly because he needs things to keep moving or he'll lose his mind . then again , i'm pretty sure that his mind is already lost . there's a lot to uncover but . . . is it worth it ? maybe not . . . he's not a bad person . . . but not exactly a good person either . his morals a little lost .
!!! 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓 !!! : drugs / addiction ( there's a tiny mention ! i put a warning before it starts and after it's over ! )
kyle wilder or as he likes to be called , kai wilder was born in good ole lincoln city , oregon . growing up in his small family of four . then again , it wasn't much of a family to begin with .
kai's mother , kathy wilder felt as though she wasn't living the life she was meant to . playing pretend and trying to fit in with every other country club wine mom . not understanding why she couldn't live her dreams of sitting pool side gossiping with the ladies about her life while her husband played golf with the boys . alas , things didn't come that easily for the woman . her idea of country club living was sitting at the public pool with a box of wine and overpriced sunglasses . trying her darnedest to ignore the screams of children around her .
daddy dearest on the other hand was too distracted with his own issues to ever really involve himself . ( TW : DRUGS / ADDICTION. ) carter wilder wasn't one for the family lifestyle . which was exactly why he didn't really entertain the idea . it didn't matter that his on and off girlfriend became pregnant twice with his offspring . he wasn't interested in kids or marriage . the only thing that really interested him was getting his next hit . whatever hard drug he could get his hands on , that's where he drifted off to . it didn't matter where it took him , it didn't matter if he was off the radar for days , months or years . . . that's where he'd be . ( TW CONCLUDED ! )
that left kai's brother , christopher wilder . only older slightly older , the two got along relatively well for how dysfunctional the two became to be later on . but as kids . . . they were thick as thieves . they had to be , they were all each other had . in a lot of ways , chris was the one that raised the both of them . but as life goes , things change and kai and chris' relationship fell apart . the two brother not really having anything to do with each other other than chris trying to pick up pieces of a broken family .
as for kai , he'd never really felt as though he belonged anywhere . never feeling as if anything felt quite right . nowhere ever felt like home to the male causing him to run off or jump from place to place , even at a young age . never really wanting or being able to call one place home . even when chris would come running after him . telling him to come back , kai seemed to have a lot more of the not so great qualities of both their parents . although , if there was one person that could talk kai off the ledge , it was probably chris . . . sometimes .
the only thing that the male really clicked with was extreme sports . skateboarding , bmx , anything that got him flinging through the air or onto the ground . there was something about the adrenaline and the constant movement that kept him entertained and excited . although , his aspiring career hasn't jet off just yet in current years , it doesn't stop him from continuing to try and be the next tony hawk or big bmx guy .
that being said , he needs a way to pay for the random places he finds himself . working any jobs he could get his hands on . nevertheless , most of the poor people that decide to hire him , regret it . never really taking anything too seriously has it's downfalls .
that being said , we're getting off topic . moving back to the day chris went missing . kai ran off , one of the many times . only this time it stuck . thinking he'd never find himself back in oregon . disconnecting from his family after they started their charities . putting up an act of this perfect little family that lost their beloved son . his father even marrying his mother for the looks of a decent father figure . kai didn't want anything to do with it . that and , he knew a lot more than he was letting on .
it wasn't until that dreadful message that kai found himself coming back . as much as kai want's to act like he doesn't care about any of it . . . he does . . . it is his brother after all . maybe he isn't the best person in the world , definitely not . . . but he is human . . .
there's some things missing , i'm sure ! but for now , this is what i got . going with the flow as i figure him out more ! please , have this trash as my token of gratitude . and i'm sorry you had to endure this struggle and ramble .
・ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 : i currently don't really have anything other than just vibing and seeing what will happen ! but i'll update this when things start flowing in my head . always down to brainstorm and plot ! i'm always down for the most chaotic things , no limits !
i do have a section in his pinterest that could be potential ideas for some plots ! if that interests you !
・ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 : his brother chris wilder .
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Just going to leave this idea here...
What the Chain would listen to based on my playlist/music taste.
Time: Elvis Presley, U2, Pearl Jam and maybe Queen..? I also have a feeling that he would just vibe along with whatever his boys or Malon would listen to.
Twilight: Mitski, Pearl Jam, The Cranberries, Nickleback, Kygo, AURORA and probably country music.
Sky: Mitski, Lana Del Rey, Billy Eilish, AJR, The Cure. Something soft for his his ears to listen to-
Warriors: LINKIN PARK, Guns N Roses, Metallica, Nirvana, Billy Idol, Queen and probably a mix with Lady Gaga, Kate Bush and P!NK..?
Wild: YUNGBLUD, Blink-182, Twenty One Pilots, Mother Mother, System of a Down, P!NK, ABBA, Imagine Dragons and whatever Flora would listen to.
Legend: My Chemical Romance, Garbage, Michael Jackson, Twenty One Pilots, MGMT, and a little bit of Metallica and Nirvana?
Hyrule: Melanie Martinez, Weezer, AURORA, The Oh Hellos, Tears For Fears, ABBA, Foo Fighters and The Police.
Four: Since there's four of him.. probably would listen to every genre of music because the colours can't agree on something? Or he won't listen to music at all because it would probably cause arguments with the colours. I need to know your opinions-
Wind: Pirate songs.
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ok final lineup for 90s bracket under the cut (128 bands)
311
4 Non Blondes
Air
Alice in Chains
Aphex Twin
Backstreet Boys
Barenaked Ladies
Beck
Ben Folds Five
Bikini Kill
Björk
Blind Melon
Blink-182
Blues Traveler
Blur
Boards of Canada
Bowling For Soup
Boyz II Men
Built To Spill
Burzum
Butthole Surfers
Cake
Cibo Matto
Counting Crows
Crash Test Dummies
Dave Matthews Band
Deftones
Destiny's Child
Dinosaur Jr.
Dismemberment Plan
Dixie Chicks
Eels
Elliott Smith
Failure
Faith No More
Fiona Apple
Fishmans
Foo Fighters
Fountains Of Wayne
Fu Manchu
Fugazi
Gin Blossoms
Goldfinger
Grandaddy
Green Day
Guided By Voices
Hole
Hootie & The Blowfish
Incubus
Jamiroquai
Jane's Addiction
Jeff Buckley
Jimmy Eat World
Korn
Kyuss
Lenny Kravitz
Limp Bizkit
Living Colour
Manic Street Preachers
Marilyn Manson
Massive Attack
Matchbox Twenty
Melvins
Mercury Rev
Meshuggah
Moby
Modest Mouse
Mogwai
Morphine
Mr. Bungle
My Bloody Valentine
Neurosis
Neutral Milk Hotel
Nine Inch Nails
Nirvana
No Doubt
NSYNC
Oasis
Opeth
Pavement
Pearl Jam
Phish
Pixies
PJ Harvey
Placebo
Porcupine Tree
Portishead
Primus
Pulp
Queens of the Stone Age
R.E.M.
Radiohead
Rage Against the Machine
Rammstein
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Rob Zombie
Sleater-Kinney
Sleep
Slint
Slowdive
Smash Mouth
Sonic Youth
Soul Coughing
Soundgarden
Spice Girls
Spiritualized
Stereolab
Stone Temple Pilots
Sublime
Swirlies
Teenage Fanclub
Temple Of The Dog
The Cranberries
The Flaming Lips
The Goo Goo Dolls
The Jesus Lizard
The Magnetic Fields
The Presidents of the United States of America
The Smashing Pumpkins
The Verve
They Might Be Giants
Third Eye Blind
Toad The Wet Sprocket
Tool
Ween
Weezer
Wilco
Yo La Tengo
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And now we wait
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Pinkpop with Metallica, Pear Jam and Imagine Drragons
17-19 June 2022, Landgraaf, NL
More information and tickets at https://www.pinkpop.nl/
Want more festivals? Check out our Festival Calendar for a complete list.
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wing
Bruce opens the front door of the manor and Kon-El is standing on the steps in unassuming civilian clothes that don't look like they belong either on a farm or at a punk concert, a cheap duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his hands jammed tight into his pockets, body language unsettled and uncomfortable.
"I'll call Tim down," Bruce says, already resigned to putting up with the kid at dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. Every time he shows up looking like this, Tim refuses to let him leave before a full twenty-four hours are up.
"Please don't," Kon says tightly, and Bruce . . . pauses. Looks at him more closely.
Processes.
There's a faint little unfamiliar scar on Kon's face. A thin white line splitting his left eyebrow, as if someone actually hit him hard enough to bleed. He's not wearing any earrings, and the scattered piercings that should be in his ears . . . aren't. There's one, but only one. His build is off. A little less brute strength in it; a little more flexibility. He's standing like he doesn't know how to fight.
And, again: the scar.
When and how did anyone actually cut him like that?
"'Don't'?" Bruce repeats, his eyes just barely narrowing.
"There were eighty-four pearls," Kon says, and Bruce's gut goes cold.
Tim didn't teach him that. Tim would never. None of them would ever. Even Jason was never angry or bitter or broken enough to compromise that code.
So someone else taught it to him.
"The doctor is out," Bruce replies by rote, perfectly neutral, and Kon's shoulders sag with . . . relief. He's relieved. He didn't know if Bruce would know what he was saying.
He wanted Bruce to know what he was saying.
"I'm sorry," Kon says, swallowing roughly. "I fucked up real bad this time, B."
That's not something Kon's ever called him. The look on his face isn't an expression Kon's ever directed at him.
This isn't Kon.
"Name," Bruce orders, just as perfectly neutral.
"Jackson Kyle," Kon mutters, his eyes slanting away guiltily. Bruce is in no way inattentive or oblivious enough to miss either Tim's middle name or Selina's last one in that answer, much less the guilt. "Technically."
"Technically?" Bruce asks, not even bothering with a pointed tone, and "Jackson's" mouth twists. He doesn't bring his eyes back to Bruce's face.
"That's not what you call me," he says.
"Inside," Bruce says, stepping back from the doorway. Jackson swallows again, visibly steeling himself, then steps across the threshold. Bruce doesn't ask why what "he" calls him is more his name than the technical answer is, and doesn't ask what "he" calls him either.
That's the whole damn point of that code phrase, after all.
"Report," Bruce orders as soon as he closes the door, and Jackson shifts his center of balance and stops standing like he doesn't know how to fight.
And meets Bruce's eyes again, too.
"Alternate reality," Jackson says, and sounds just like any one of them when the worst has happened. "Things went–bad. Level Omega, final phase. You ordered me to take the out. I said no, and you shoved me through anyway."
Of course he did, Bruce thinks.
Jackson would've died with that version of him, otherwise.
"Solo flight?" he checks without any actual hope for a merciful answer. Not if Jackson had to be forced to take the out.
"Yes, sir," Jackson says, his hands curling into fists at his sides and his mouth going tight. "Nightwing was already–it was solo."
Bruce doesn't imagine a version of himself that had to bury Dick.
That didn't have time to bury Dick, more than likely.
"Downstairs for decontamination, containment procedures, and questioning," he says. Jackson nods, short and efficient. He doesn't protest the precautions.
Maybe Kon would've, but Bruce doesn't actually know him well enough to know.
This version of the kid knows all about him, though, doesn't he.
He takes Jackson to his study. They don't run into Tim or Alfred on the way, and no one else is in the manor right now.
That's for the best.
Bruce looks at Jackson. Waits. Jackson glances at him, then to the grandfather clock.
Its hands move. Tactile telekinesis, obviously.
And 10:48.
Obviously.
The door to the cave opens.
So yes, Jackson knows all about him, and the manor, and the cave, and who knows what else.
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Twenty Years Later: The Playlists
“It wasn’t lost on either of them that it took nearly dying for them to start drifting back to one another. The hate faded into background noise, or ceased to exist at all. They picked up their anger when they were safe, because it took effort. It took effort to stay mad, a fire requiring constant attention. But protecting one another was natural. At the end of the day, all that had transpired between Joel and Y/n would never come in the way of saving one another. Hate was a choice, care was an instinct.”
a selection of songs to pair with Joel and Rosebud’s journey 💞
Lost On You - LP
The Last of Us - Gustavo Santaolalla
Wicked Game - Chris Isaak
Turntable - Dead Horses
Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier
Younger Years - The Milk Carton Kids
Unfinished (Acoustic) - Noah Cyrus
All Gone (Aftermath) - Gustavo Santaolalla
Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier
The Choice - Gustavo Santaolalla
Vinyl - Kira Kosarin
you broke me first - Tate McRae
Adeline - John-Robert
The Last of Us (Never Again) - Gustavo Santaolalla
Something In The Orange - Zach Bryan
Alone and Forsaken - Hank Williams
Memory I Don’t Mess With - Lee Brice
Long Long Time - Linda Ronstadt
The Way It Was - Gustavo Santaolalla
Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) - Kate Bush
I’ll Never Stop - Smithfield
Vienna - Billy Joel
Butterflies - James TW
I Wish I Never Met You - Babygirl
Home - Gustavo Santaolalla
Autumn Town Leaves - Iron & Wine
WAITING FOR YOU - Brooklinn Khoury
I Was Made For Loving You - Tori Kelly
San Luis - Gregory Alan Isakov
The Last of Us (You and Me) - Gustavo Santaolalla
Bigger Than The Whole Sky - Taylor Swift
King Of Wishing Thinking - COTTA
She Used To Be Mine - Sara Bareilles
Vanishing Grace (Childhood) - Gustavo Santaolalla
You Are My Sunshine - Johnny Cash
Stoic - Penny and Sparrow
Yesterday - The Beatles
Dynasty - MIIA
The Last of Us (Goodnight) - Gustavo Santaolalla
Work Song - Hozier
You and Me (On The Rock) - Brandi Carlile
Future Days - Pearl Jam
Burial Plot - Dayseeker
—————
2003 - a pre-outbreak playlist for rosebud and the millers ❤️ (created by anon)
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