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withoneheadlight · 3 years

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oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So.

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while. Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands, feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e. When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this: the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

#harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #xask #askfic #xharringrove #the harrington-hargrove household #xaskwithoneheadlight #xfluff #xpronight

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

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alright here’s ma thoughts on that flick I mentioned

we hatewatched a*my of the dead because we were CONVINCED “zombies in las vegas” would be an impossible concept to screw up, but in so assuming we obviously invoked a holy wager with the universe and got reminded, once again, that hoping for improvement from someone who’s dependably put out bad art is never a wise choice 😐

but we were honestly kinda roped in by the marketing??? and expected a goofy fast-paced flick with the odd traditional undead metaphor thrown in, framing some sort of relationship drama maybe or hell even nothing at all! we’d have taken pure indulgent storytelling, idk italian job with zombies in las vegas, I don’t know fucking anything but??? whatever this was???? spoilers below for it is time for One Of My Rants

I mean the main reason I really want to write all this and complain. this film here probably has the most unappealing cinematography I have ever experienced in my life and that is saying something. who the fuck signed off on that CONSTANT shallow-ass depth of field that imprisons your eyeline and turns every shot into bokeh paste???? and I mean every shot almost!!!! I promise if you think I am overreacting just throw a dart at the seek bar and watch twenty seconds from wherever it lands. it is horrifying to look at. at least it gave my girlfriend a good visual shorthand for what it’s like when I lose my glasses

why was sean spicer in this movie. did they pay him to be here. was sean spicer paid hollywood money for his scene in this film because fuck everyone who was involved in that decision

the legitimately baffling hints at the extraterrestrial origins of the infection that went absolutely nowhere and had no dramatic or plot-level bearing. we love to see the franchise sprouts fellas

yet another big budget waste of everything hiroyuki sanada has to offer. and bautista too I guess? I like him but man was this an odd career move

what was the crux of his conflict/resolution with his daughter btw. I understand it was rooted in miscommunication over their forms of grief irt mom but uhh… it was all rather clunky and didn’t land for me. I tried I really tried to buy in but something was wrong fundamentally with the groundwork there, it did not click and their catharsis felt unearned. I know there’s massive amounts of tragic baggage being projected there from the author so I’m not slapping any judgment down really;

but again it would be an easy thing to wave off if they just had a vibrant cast of lovable simpletons with good chemistry and the kinetic sense of plotting the trailers promised (and this premise never discounts good drama, either). but instead it was just two and a half (!) hours of meandering into situations the filmmaking instincts had no idea how to flow in and out of

to wit. I know talking about “bad pacing” is associated with armchair bullshit but consider the example of the scene were dieter does an out of nowhere little dance after childishly screaming but then still-killing a zombie, with the film framing this as a micro character triumph, and not a second later the bg soundtrack instantly fades into an orchestral score dramatizing a nearby mcguffin reveal, completely 180 degreeing the tone without a semblance of deft insert shot stitching or even I dont know a fucking jump cut maybe. now imagine this whiplash for 2.5 hrs uninterrupted

I will keep complaining about the length yeah because this was not a story requiring this much real estate to be told. Uhh in my humble and personal opinion, of course

[man sees zombie tiger] “this is crossing the line!” you can in fact write dialogue that is not utter nonsense that falls apart once you drill down its single fickle layer of referential meta winking. what line are you talking about. you have rules in this insane situation you’re in? total nitpick moment I know but it got burned in my brain for some reason. like a microcosm of the mismanaged dramatic instincts paired with weird writing that dots this movie. I am sure the director calls this either satire or genre deconstruction. I am SO sure

tumblr domino meme that goes from “dude getting sucked off while driving” to “entire las vegas literally nuked”

tig notaro is always great to see but once you know she’s been filmed as a separate greenscreen plate months after photography wrapped - cause she had to apparently replace some abusive asshole but that’s a whole other pig not worth fucking - it becomes impossible to unsee her odd detachment from everyone else in the movie lmao. it doesn’t really “ruin” anything on its lonesome but it is hard to unsee

why. was. sean. spicer. in. this. movie

a very simple key ingredient missing from fully turning lip service sympathy for main uruk hai dude into actual empathy that would generate meaningful conflict with hero family would be to spend a bit more time articulating what he internally wanted the most. because he was obviously trying to do something here with pointed agenda. a family, to have kids, build a caste system, save his wife’s head, return to his planet??? all of these could represent the bigger context in his psychology that spurred his vengeance but none of them are dramatically emphasized long enough for you to cheer him on. I’m not asking too much I promise. Articulating interiority of a mute character is pretty doable with deft cinema language, just gotta linger and hold a shot here and there for a few seconds, frame as his POV, donezo. I know this is also one of those like. “who cares” moments but the movie does, very evidently so, in making this guy an actual character. you can kinda piece it together and create a framework of sympathy for him, sure, but then again he ultimately becomes a foil to be killed and not defeated, so. Ehh whatever

quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was n

the rooftop helicopter fakout at the end was such an ass-backwards, manufactured moment of what could be a simple setup/payoff it just pissed me off??? you gain nothing by giving sad dad five seconds of pointless crisis that flips right back to previous status quo ANYWAY, except for a weaksauce waste of runtime, which could be used instead to get inside notaro’s head and actually SHOW the remorse form as she took off, literally maybe even a frown playing on her face as she’s headed for safety right before we cut back to drax and the kid. just a simple-ass, minimal, momentary setup for what is the most basic filmmaking trick of creating macro catharsis moments. Just???? g o d if you can’t even land that shit why are you even doing any of this

that lil run final pam did was very very charming and super choreographed in a way that was the tiiiniest bit overdone

the whole intro with the simul-backstories and posing with family photos was just… oddly motivated. what was the goal? “here’s what we’re fighting for” vignettes? why? it’s not a functional setup in that vein. what was all that

also I am sorry if this is insensitive but the reasons most characters end up articulating to justify going back into the hell that destroyed their lives makes them sound seriously insane

I dont like complaining about CGI (honestly) but so much of it in modern movies can achieve higher fidelity if the animation is simply subdued. Do not overengineer and over-apply 2D cell methodologies and kinematics to each tiny twitch and movement in a hyper 3D model and I promise you. it will look a thousand times more natural. look at thanos in those last two movies. your rendering and detail are absolutely perfect with the tiger you just have to let stuff sit instead of constantly simulating swaying hair strands and firing off all facial muscles at once. great moment at one point where makeup zombie horse and CG zombie tiger are both in one shot together and just by unnecessary amounts of movement alone you can tell who doesn’t belong. again; detail, rendering, compositing, lighting, all picture-perfect; but y’all just gotta let the animation breathe sometimes, and chill it out

plot holes don’t really matter to me but it was kinda funny how lilly decided not to mention the enormous wrinkle in intel pertaining to an actual territorial tribe of intelligent zombies that require human offerings to let you pass, just so that reveal could play out in real time through the joyous punishment of the cartoonishly misogynistic dude

total chad move for mister uruk hai and final pam to rule from a rusted swimming pool complex

the ending with vanderohe oh my god. with the. cash stacks at the airport register. and specifically them working in his favor. that is literally something you do to get arrested under suspicion of theft. it was almost played for laughs and I respect that. coulda been goofier. make these movies goofy ya dorks

anyway, weird, weird movie. bad marketing. message unclear (something something sins of the father???), baffling editing instincts, literal worst-looking cinematography I ever laid eyes upon. Confidently dying on that last hill

#text #long post #aotd spoilers #aotd critical

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crsinclair · 6 years

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Whiskers

Literally this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote this out during a slow hour at work. Basically a cute explanation to how it all came about, anyway.

Also has some snippets of my headcanons that Aizawa is the biggest softy for children (especially young ones), tiny tikes have no fear of him whatsoever, and the tiiiniest bit of Aizawa Has Anxiety.

Enjoy!

Shouta's patrol had started normally. He liked to start around ten, when the bars and clubs were fullest and the drinks were pouring heavy. That was usually about the time the most incidents occurred. Small incidents, but just enough of them that the police couldn't possibly get to all of them. H'd helped a few people get in cabs home safely and stopped a pick-pocket from stealing money from a group of first-time clubbers all in the first half hours, so he knew it was going to be a busy night.

Normal for a Saturday.

Of course, seeing as it was Saturday, that meant there were some families out and about. What with no school and most businesses closed on Sundays, many parents felt it was alright to stay out late even with tiny toddlers on hand. Personally, Shouta didn't see the appeal of screwing up a child's sleep schedule, but his job was to help people and not parent them. (At least, his hero job. His teaching job, however...) So it wasn't unusual to see tiny children in the crowds of the busier districts close to midnight on a Saturday.

It was unusual to see a tiny child crossing the street alone while the light was till green.

He'd just barely managed to snatch the little girl up before a fast-moving truck could – well, he didn't want to think about it. A quiet sigh of relief escaped him as he crouched on the sidewalk, clutching the child to his chest while waiting for his heart rate to slow down. A few of the people around them commented loudly to each other about his daring rescue, but he ignored them in favor of the tiny girl pawing at his capture weapon.

“Hey now, careful with that,” Shouta scolded quietly, sitting back on his heels and using a gentle hand to dislodge tiny questing fingers from his scarf. “It's rougher than it looks.”

Large hazel eyes blinked up at him, curious and not at all afraid. He huffed. 'Of course she'd have no idea the danger she was in,' he thought. 'She can't be more than three years old.' There wasn't a pressing need to scold her, though, especially when she simply offered up a toothy smile and trailed stubby fingers over a lock of his hair.

“Soft!” she chirped. No, his heart didn't melt.

He tugged his goggles down so he could see her more clearly. “I'm Eraserhead. A hero,” he introduced himself. “What's your name?”

“'M Chizuki!” she said, still playing with his hair. “You a hero?”

“Yes, I am.” Shouta studied her a moment, taking in her frilly purple dress and shiny shoes. Definitely not homeless. “Chizuki-san, do you know your parent's names?”

Chizuki hummed over the question a moment. “Mama and Papa.”

Of course. He sighed again. “Alright...” He stood scooping Chizuki up and settling her on his hip. “Let's look for your Mama and Papa, alright?”

“'Kay!”

For the next 20 minutes he walked with her, keeping an eye out for panicking parents. It was a bit difficult, what with the thick crowds and all around general excitement over pretty much anything and everything. Not to mention that Chizuki had discovered his scruff and was petting his chin while alternating between saying “whiskers” and “kitty”. Just as he was contemplating ringing Tsukauchi up, though, he spotted one of the police detective's officers talking to a couple of distraught looking adults.

“Finally,” he grunted, shifting the child into a better grip. He dug out his hero liscense as he walked brsikly up to them, holding it up like a peace offering as he called out, “I found her.”

Twin cries of relief came from the parents as they swept upon them, and the officer shot Shouta a thankful grin. “Ah, thanks, Eraserhead,” the man said, tucking his radio away after sending a brief cease order on the search. “Where'd you find her?”

He wanted to say, “In the middle of the street,” but he didn't want to cause the parents – who were now crying and hugging their child fiercely in a pile on the ground – too much worry. “A few buildings that way,” he said instead, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“How can we ever thank you enough?” asked the father, standing and wiping the tears from his face.

“Don't bother. It was nothing.”

“But we've got to thank you somehow – “

“Seriously. Don't. I'm a hero. It's my job,” Shouta stated bluntly.

The father wrinkled his nose at his frank statement, but the mother smiled at him. “Well, regardless, thank you. We'll probably be going home now.” She knelt back down to her daughter. “How about you say thank you for bringing you back to Mama and Papa and tell the hero goodbye, Chizu-chan?”

The tiny girl nodded her head so enthusiastically that Shouta fears she'd nod her head right off before skipping over to him. When she tugged on his hand, he crouched down, barely managing to keep a smile off his face, capture weapon be damned. Children were cute when they weren't causing problems.

She patted his cheeks with fingers splayed wide. “Thank you, Hero!” she chirped, smiling wide, then leaned in to give his cheek a quick peck. His heart warmed. “Bye-bye, kitty!”

'Kitty?'

He quirked a brow at the odd nickname, wondering if it was maybe because of his “whiskers” as she called them, but startled at the screech the parents let out. Shouta looked over towards them in alarm and was confused at the horrified stares they were giving him. 'Maybe because she kissed my cheek?' But before he could stand or back up, the father hurried forward to snatch Chizuki up.

“Chizuki – “

“Is everything alright – “

“– how could you do that!? We told you that it wasn't okay to use your Quirk like that!”

...Huh.

“But he's a kitty, Papa!”

“No, he's human, we explained this – “

“He got whiskers! He's a kitty!”

Shouta was confused and, with every passing moment, he felt increasingly that he was missing something. The mother was crying again, but instead of tears of joy, they were of distress.

“I am...so sorry, sir,” she whimper pathetically. “It's mostly harmless, I swear, but she's three, and...”

“What...did she do,” Shouta managed, straightening up slowly. He wouldn't panic. Pro heroes didn't panic.

“Erm...Eraserhead?” The officer coughed, holding up a hand-mirror. “Perhaps you'd like to take a look.”

With hesitance he normally didn't feel Shouta took the small mirror and held it up. He didn't notice anything at first, and furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to find whatever was different. “What is – “

And then he saw.

Not only were a few of his “whiskers” now much longer – and thicker, too – but sticking out of his mess he called his hair were two triangular shaped appendages line with short black hairs and pink in the middle. He blinked, astonished, and tried not to startle when they twitched. Even more so that he could feel them twitch. And now that he was paying attention...the back of his pants felt...uncomfortable.

Resisting the very strong urge to grab at his own ass, he stiffly handed the mirror back to the officer. “Would you mind telling the Precinct Quirk Councillor that I wll be dropping by shortly?”

The officer took the mirror back with a not-very-well suppressed smile. “Y-yes. Of course.”

“We are so sorry.”

“Kitty!”

Children were cute when they weren't causing problems.

#ravyn writes #crack treated seriously #somewhat seriously #this is one of the more ridiculous things I've come up with #one of my friends wants all the art of this haha #cat!aizawa #bnha #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #if I do ever finish this it'll be erasermic just throwing that out there #quirks are fun and versitile #eh maybe i'll draw more too

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