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gi4hao · 10 days

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🪁 ˎˊ- their favorite thing to do with you

— aka my take on what makes them express their love for you in a special way <3

— reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

— seungcheol + nighttime cuddles

it’s one of the rare moments when he can fully let go of his responsibilities and turn his brain off so sign him up. he’ll speed run his entire shower routine just to get five more minutes of calm cuddle time before bed. big spoon, little spoon, it really depends on his mood; but he’ll always make sure you feel held and protected no matter what, and so will you.

— jeonghan + going for a walk

at first he didn’t notice how much it meant to him. but after some time spent away from you, he realized how much he missed your silly little walks. they don’t always have a purpose, and it’s what makes them so nice. you two just wandering around town, hand in hand and your arms swinging at a regular pace. it fills his heart with nothing but love, because he thinks the world always looks a little more beautiful when you’re with him <3

— joshua + making plans for the future

whether it’s planning an upcoming trip or something more distant (your wedding for example…), joshua loves talking about his future with you. he likes to picture you in his life forever, and to hear how you picture him in yours. sometimes it’s just sleepy late-night conversations, sometimes it’s the two of you cuddling in bed and creating pinterest boards on your phones. that way when one of you gets stressed about the future, you can remember you have a lifetime to figure things out together.

— jun + watching your favorite movies

especially at the beginning of the relationship! i feel like jun could ask you to make him a list of your favorite movies and offer to watch them together, because it’s a great way to get to know each other on a deeper level. and he’d be happy to make a list of his own as well! obviously many inside jokes would emerge from these movie nights, making you the kind of insufferable yet cute couple that can hold a full conversation with no one else understanding.

— hoshi + dancing in the kitchen

sometimes it starts with him slowly swinging from left to right as he hugs you from behind, leading to something rather tender. other times it’s him grabbing your arm and making you twirl on some catchy pop-rock song. it’s his own way of expressing how happy these small moments of domesticity make him. of course he’ll also throw some singing in there, and yes he will snatch the wooden spoon from your hands to turn it into a mic.

— wonwoo + taking pictures

there are two sides to that. the first one is when a particularly aesthetic situation occurs and you both take a bunch of pretty pictures. the second one is more personal, more spontaneous. it’s wonwoo sneaking snapshots of you doing mundane things like brushing your teeth or petting a stray cat. it’s also taking low quality selfies of the two of you doing nothing in bed (with you often wearing his clothes), or just during any moment you’ll want to remember and cherish forever.

— woozi + napping

ok let’s be real here: a busy man needs to optimize his time, which means that you will get dragged into bed with him so that he can collapse on top of you and sleep like a log. but what makes it fun are the moments when he shortly emerges from his slumber and changes his position like some sort of touch-starved zombie, frowning until he gets to trap you in his arms again. he loves to say you’re exaggerating when you tell him about it, but you’re absolutely not…

—dokyeom + day trips

he loves loves loves making memories with you, so he’ll gladly dedicate half of his weekend to go on various day trips with you! he’ll pack your lunches himself, make sure you don’t have to carry any bags throughout the day, and even carry you on his back if your feet start to hurt. your camera rolls are filled with pictures of these little trips, and he wouldn’t mind talking about them for hours to anyone who will listen. he might even make a little handmade scrapbook of these memories for your valentine’s day gift :3

— mingyu + grocery shopping

you always go to the same supermarket and the cashiers all think you’re their cutest clients because of how happy you look together. there’s just something about the way he pushes the cart while reading the grocery list out loud that makes you feel like the luckiest person on the planet. also, mingyu will always insist on buying you a little treat during every grocery trip. even when you’re not with him, he knows which ones are your favorite and he never ever gets it wrong.

— minghao + museum dates

it’s the epitome of peacefulness to him. holding your hand as you wander among the artworks, discussing them, sharing your thoughts and sometimes cracking jokes in each other’s ear. when he sees you getting closer to a painting or a sculpture, he’ll stay a few steps back to take a picture of you, a proud smile on his lips as he captures the moment. “again?” you ask when you catch him in the act. “you know you look too pretty to only take one,” he replies, leaving a kiss on your temple.

— seungkwan + skincare routine

you shared a face mask with him once and it’s become a regular occurrence ever since. of course seungkwan knows how to do his own skincare, but it’s so much better when you do it for him! head resting on your lap, you could make him wear your stupidest headband and he wouldn’t even complain. he likes how gentle you are when applying the products on his face, and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

— vernon + flea market

he likes everything about it. he likes that little game you have of pointing two remotely associated items and saying ‘us’. he likes to come up with backstories for the things that are being sold. and you like to remind him of that time he pointed at a trinket and asked “who even buys that?” right in front of the person who was about to get it (but he lets you laugh about it, because he just loves hearing your laugh). all in all, it’s a privileged moment where he gets to enjoy the beauty of simple things with his favorite person, and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

— dino + supporting your passions/hobbies

let me explain! obviously he loves it when you keep him company while he’s training or when you patiently listen to him ramble about it; so he’s really careful about reciprocating that energy as much as possible. that’s why he often comes to support you at your sports competitions, art shows, or just any kind of hobby you might have. he shows genuine interest and will always your biggest cheerleader no matter what, always pushing you to do your very best in what you love.

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starryeyedjanai · 5 months

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bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #st ficlet #janai.doc

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sugojosgf · 8 days

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jealous nanami

highly suggestive + masochism + jealousy

🍓 i might write a second part if you guys want, let me know tho :3

nanami and you have been going out for a few months, and you don't think you've ever been as happy as you are right now. nanami is everything you can ask for, he buys you anything you look at, kisses you like his life depends on it and loves you like you are his religion.

but he also gets so jealous very easily,,,

it's not that he doesn't trust you, not that he thinks you are the kind to stray, he just hates how people look at you, like you are theirs...

it was an office event, and of course nanami invited you as his plus one. making sure he got you the prettiest red dress ever, the way it hugged your body, had him so fucking hard. it was quite modest, the only skin revealed was your legs,,, but anything on you, or nothing on you (doesn't really matter) was enough to make him rock hard in his tailored pants.

"oooh- is this nanami's pretty girlfriend?" a man sauntered up to the both of you, dressed in an expensive white suit to match his hair.

you recognised him, how could you not? this was the very same coworker that nanami would complain to you about during dinner.

"gojo," his voice comes out a little strained, "yes, this is my girlfriend, you might recognise her of course, she interned in our company a while ago,,," kento answers, hand on your waist pulling you closer.

"awww, isn't she absolutely gorgeous, can't believe nanami got his hands on you before me." he giggles, eyes glimmering with a mischievous glint.

"i'm lucky she decided to go out with me,," nanami forces a smile, his grip on your waist becoming tighter.

you gasp and giggle, "nooo,, im the lucky one, kento is so kind to me," you say looking fondly at him.

you continue, "oh and thank you so much gojo! you look really good too,,," you return the compliment.

suddenly someone calls out to nanami, a fellow coworker and he gets whisked away leaving you all alone with gojo. he smiles like a cheshire cat, the gears in his brain working harder. he looks at nanami from where he is, making steady eye contact as he begins to talk to you.

he tells you about how nanami was actually his junior in high school and how he was really into the emo subculture then, recounting stories of young nanami that made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes. he fishes his phone out to show you a picture, teen nanami brooding and scrawny, hair swept to the side.

of course to you, you were just talking to gojo about your shared love for nanami. but to him, the one way out of earshot to understand the context of your giggling, the green fire of jealousy made its way to his heart.

he slowly makes his way over to you, pulling you away from gojo and hands travelling to your hip. you were still laughing, too far gone to notice the expression on his face.

"what's got you so giggly? hm?" he asks, fingers pinching your thigh. it's not really painful , almost like an ant biting. but you are the kind to bruise easily, red blooming the minute his fingers pull apart.

you are immediately pulled out of your laughing fit, eyes blown wide looking up to nanami. it's almost like he had conditioned you, a little touch to your pretty thighs and you were ready to cum in your little thong.

"o-oh! gojo was just showing me pictures..." you mumble, embarrassed by the heated stare nanami was giving you. you felt so small under his gaze. your tongue comes out to wet your lips, to ease the way your throat has dried up.

gojo stands still in front of the both of you, smirking as he sees the tension build. he knew very well what he was doing. rolling his eyes and happy that once again he managed to piss nanami off, he walks away to the bar.

"i think it's high time we go home,, you look needy." nanami rasps out, the hand on your thigh travelling upto your ass and staying there. you nod, words unable to string themselves together.

nanami sighs, eyes darkening and his smile dropping as he guides you towards the exit.

"when we are home, i'm going to teach you to use your words."

#nanamin me 🧈#got me so soaked 〰⋆｡˚#nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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inf3ct3dd · 8 months

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ellie headcanons ..!

warnings : literally none, perfectly sfw 😍😍

content: loser!ellie x reader, more ellie-focused than relationship focused (sorryyyy 😞😞)

authors note: i’ve literally never done headcanons omg 😓 this is js my random ramblings 🔥🔥🔥

pt. 2 ! taglist!!!! masterlist!!

- send you an excessive amount of reels. every 5 seconds. cute cats, random facts about space, stuff she thinks is funny, it all goes to you.

- definitely had a “rock collection” when she was little, but she was so ???? excessive with it??? like every time she saw a rock she picked it up. she walked so weird bc her pockets were just FULL OF ROCKS.

- also, was literally the grimiest kid ever. playing in ROLLING IN the mud, going snail hunting when it rained!!! she was the kid that would go in the bushes and mess w rolly pollies all the time for NO REASON.

- is weirdly good at fishing?? joel took her all the time, and shes a self proclaimed “fishing master”

- WAYYY clumsy. always running into a wall, tripping on air, or missing steps on the stairs (smh its cuz of that damn phone 😒😒)

- im so into the whole “adam sandler” fits cuz its so true. esp during the summer, its some stupid t shirt that says “master baiter” and a pair of old basketball shorts.

- speaking of t shirts, she’s def the type to own an absurd amount of dumb t shirts.

- gets all her clothes from like, walmart and goodwill. she does not CARE!!!

- cuts her own hair too 🤞🏽🤞🏽 shes soooo self sufficient 😍😍😍

- bites. she is such a biter.

- speaking of, i feel like she js has to have something in her mouth constantly. gum, random pieces of plastic, bottle caps, pens, anything 😞

- speaking of mouths (wow sierra so many connections!!!) she def had braces , but she hates wearing her retainer so her teeth are like ever-so-slightly fucked up

- is AMAZING at committing to the bit. she will drag it for DAYSSS if you don’t tell her to stop. once did a (awful) british accent for 4 days until you threw something at her and told her to shut the fuck up

- definitely not shy, just kind of…odd. she’ll talk to anyone that talks to her, she just doesn’t really approach people.

- weird obsession with pickles. has a pickle stuffed animal with a mustache and glasses that she bought from goodwill

- hangs up so much stuff on her walls!!!! tickets, old notes, cards, pictures of people, drawings, old tickets, literally anything she thinks looks cool

- obsessed with rollercoasters!!! she took you to the fair for your first date

- also like- very good at fair games. she’s so cocky about it too, you’ll go home with like 20 stuffed animals she won for you and she’ll carry ALL OF THEM with the stupidest smile on her face

- wears all of joels old contractor-workwear clothes during the colder months

- trys so hard to be “mysterious” but she’s never actually doing anything so she just does stuff like not telling you what movie she’s watching or what she’s eating

- also just texts you 24-7!!! like every time she’s doing something she’s like “i made a quesadilla” “i went to the store” “i took a shower” she just looooves keeping you updated

- tries to raise one eyebrow but ends up just squinting one eye. so funny 😞😞

- really good at solving rubix cubes???

- definitely had a fuck ass bob at one point

- GLASSES. that is all. glasses.

- listens to so much dad rock, midwest emo, indie, she LOVES male manipulator music!! but like she isn’t like thatttt shes so niceeee 😞😞

- mostly calls you babe/baby, she’ll call you really dumb pet names as a joke like “pookie” 😭😭

#loser!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #modern au #lesbian

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jinkiezzsstuff · 2 months

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Hello!!! i’m not sure if your doing requests or not. but i was wondering if you could do an Alastor x reader and everyone is doing movie night and i wanted to know his reaction to the said chosen movie Bambi, I’m currently whatching bambi and thought about this😅

Hiya! I thought this was such a cute little dabble in could do, so i got it out pretty quick! I never explicitly stated i do request but i do! Perhaps i’ll make a formal request post but for now i will take the ones that do come as they do. I really hope this is what you imagined i haven’t watched bambi in years! Xx

Movie night

PT 2

Words: 830

Alastor x gn reader

Warnings: Nada really, just bambi’s momma died rip disney love killing parents also could be read platonically or romantically

“C’mon please.” Charlie begged you, hands clasped in front of her as she gently bounced on her heels. She was in the middle of begging you to talk Alastor into watching Bambi for tonight’s movie night. An exercise thought up by Charlie to have all of the patrons sit quietly and enjoy something together as a group, no fighting, no judgement, just relaxation as a unit.

But of course Alastor wasn’t a fan of said “picture shows” so Charlie enlisted you to do the sweet talking. After some more begging on Charlie’s part you gave in, knocking on Alastor’s door. You could already hear him humming happily to himself on the other side, sound increasing as he got closer. When he opened the door to you he visibly perked, seemingly pleased to see you. “Hello dear, what can i do for you?” Standing out of the way he outstretched his arm towards the inside of his bedroom. Smiling you gladly stepped in, feeling fairly comfortable around the demon and his presence at this point.

“Well, Charlie wants to have a movie night, everyone voted for Bambi, thoughts?”

“Ha, no.” Alastor cackled promptly shutting you down, it rolled off your back though, you expected this kind of response. “Y’know Al, the TV was a staple of 1936, and Bambi came out in 42, that’s ten years tops away from your time. It’s a musical too so up your alley, technocolour and it’s about deer. This is your movie man!” You exclaim excitedly, Alastor watched you theatrically explain with a fond look.

Once Alastor sighed dramatically you knew you were in. “Alright dear i’ll watch this silly moving picture with you.” Smiling, you stood tall linking your arms to his. “That’s why they call it a movie, it’s moving. See Al, not so bad you already know the lingo.” Alastor said nothing as you dragged him along amused by what he presumed was your nonsensical ramblings.

Once in the room with all the lights dimmed, a large tarp pulled over a fireplace, since Angel professed that “Projecta’s are just betta” as the excuse to not use a TV. Alastor snapped his fingers, changing both his and your clothes to loungewear of the 1930’s which you decided not to argue against due to him being so receptive of the whole movie thing. Once settled down, you mushed against the arm of the couch and Alastor, beside Alastor Husk, who kept a great inch from Al. And ontop of Husk, Angel, who wouldn’t leave no matter what Husk, or Al said.

Nifty sat in a little rocking chair, compliments of Alastor, Pentious was curled up with the egg bois, on the floor, and Vaggie shared a large bean bag with Charlie cuddled in together. At first things were fine, Alastor’s radio would hum along occasionally with the tunes, and you watched his ears occasionally flick at certain sounds in the movie.

It wasn’t until Bambi’s mother died that things went astray. Something in Alastor ticked, and suddenly he was pin straight unmoving and it was concerning. By this point everyone was zoned into the plot or sleeping- it seemed like only you noticed his change in demeanour. Softly placing your hand on his arm you asked for him to accompany you to the kitchen for some water, Alastor of course agreed being the gentleman that he is.

Once away from others ears you gave him a pointed look, one that told him he’d better tell the honest truth. “Is everything alright Al?” You asked, watching as he leaned forward on the island looking toward you who stood on the other side. It looked as if he was searching for an excuse, but you weren’t letting up so easy. Walking toward him you met his eyes. “I can keep a secret.” You promise in a whisper. Sighing static Alastor seemed a little peeved about your pestering but nonetheless didn’t blame you. “I suppose it reminded me of my mother, i’ll never see her again. I’m a lonely orphan deer, hahaha,” Alastor chuckled dryly, cocking his head side to side as he laughed.

“Not to mention those hunters are buffoons, most of the prize lies within a buck and their antlers. No sense in hunting doe really.” Alastor finished explaining, he felt weak humanly so, but he always did with you, it was like your very presence was truth serum and he couldn't help but sing out the truth whenever you’d ask him for it. With a gently hand against his shoulder you gave him a tight squeeze. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to see her again, I hope you can.”

Alastor hummed not paying much attention to the sentence, but he was at least happy he did have you, after all he told you many things, and you did manage to keep it to yourself. Composing himself again Alastor stood tall. “Well let’s go finish this movie dear! I can’t just walk out now!”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor x reader fluff #hazbin hotel x you

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crybaby-bkg · 2 years

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You’re laying on top of Bakugou as the night passes on. It’s late, too late, past his old man bedtime, but Bakugou stays with you. Holds you tight on top of him, warm hands caressing your sides, mouth pecking at your hairline whenever you laugh at whatever’s on tv. It’s a peaceful moment, domestic and soft, and he’s willing to silently admit that he never wants it to end. But of course, you disturb the silence.

“How come we’ve never talked about having kids? Or marriage?” You ask him, cheek smushed against his own as you both watch the colorful images flash by on tv. He arched a blond brow though, breath caught in his throat. How could you drop a bomb like that so casually? Talk about these kinds of things that have been known to cause arguments and force breakups within other’s relationships? He has to realize though, that you’re not others.

“What about it?” Bakugou grunts, softly pulling you away by your nape so that he can look at you. The colors from the screen paint your face pretty, your soft downturned smile, the cheekiness in your eyes, the way your pointer finger traces the hard contours of his face. He thinks that if you asked him to set the world aflame, he’d do it without question.

“Do you want marriage? Kids? Would you ever want to live a domestic life with me, Katsuki?” You whisper, cupping his cheek to bring him into a kiss. He hums against your lips, thinking, stealing a few more kisses before he answers.

“I’ve wanted marriage since the day I met you.” He replies honestly, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your hips. You snort though, smiling, as you briefly hide your face in his neck.

“God, you’re so fucking obsessed with me.” You snicker, chortling loudly though when he can’t help but run his fingers over your more ticklish areas. He relents when you concede though, and you pull back to look at him again.

“I’ve wanted kids since I could remember. Maybe I pictured a little girl with blond hair and red eyes once or twice, though.” You grin with a roll of your eyes and a shrug. Bakugou watches you though, thinks about the stereotypical picket white fence, the big rock on your finger, a couple brats and maybe even a pet running around your front yard. He realizes he likes the image, the domesticity of it, and nods to himself as he brings you in for another kiss.

“How about I get you both? A nice ring and our own little demon spawn. How’s that sound?” Bakugou asks against your lips, pulling back to watch you frown and bat softly at his chest.

“Katsuki, don’t call our unborn baby that!” You pout, letting him pull you back in for another sweet kiss.

“Whattt? With me as their father, I’m sure they’ll be little evil shits.”

“With you as their father, I’m sure they’ll be amazingly talented, beautiful, kind hearted children. The best we could ask for.” You interject, pecking him with every compliment before tacking on, “I also play a part in their best-ness, if that wasn’t clear.”

Katsuki laughs at that, full hearted and loud, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the booming sound. It warms you, as you laugh with him and rub softly at his chest. You both fall into silence as you stare at each other, smiling like two idiots, both unknowing about the ring that sits in his pockets and the baby that rests in your belly.

#I thot about this months ago and never wrote it #I’m now ready to expel it from my brain #I hope u all are as obsessed w domesticity w bkg as I am #okay gn 🏃‍♀️#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬#dad bkg

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genderlessghoul · 5 months

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This is for @anonymouslymadebydesign

I'm so sorry I don't know how to Tumblr properly I messed up your ask 😭 (if anyone saw me post this one for 3 minutes and then delete it, no you didn't)

Here's how to differentiate all the current ghouls, explained as best as I can!

Dew :

First we have our lead guitarist, nicknamed Dewdrop or Sodo. He's most often seen playing his white Stratocaster guitar, which is a great way to identify him. He's the smallest of all the men in the group and also has a very small frame that matches his height.

He's arguably the easiest to recognize with the costumes on because he's the only one with white horns on his mask. He usually wears his sleeves rolled up and has a black compression shirt underneath. If his sleeves aren't rolled up, you'll notice he has no ruffles at the cuffs. He wears a balaclava over his mouth and nose

You know how they say the smaller you are, the closer to hell? Yeah that's Dewdrop. He's our angry gremlin, he likes to throw stuff at people. He also has a very distinct posture. The way he walks and stands, at least to me, inspires authority, it's almost intimidating.

Phantom :

On rhythm guitar, we have Phantom or Aeon, people couldn't agree on the nickname. He plays a black Fantomen guitar. He's a bit taller than Dew and has a similar frame.

His mask has scratch marks in the leather on the left side. He also wears his sleeves rolled up with a compression shirt underneath, sometimes they're kinda rolled the "wrong" way around so he looks like he has bell sleeves. His cuffs also don't have ruffles. He also wears a balaclava over his mouth and nose, it took him a while to know how to wear it properly because it used to stick to his face so bad.

He's the newest and he tends to act a bit younger too if that makes sense? He's very playful with the audience and thrives on interactions (my personal biggest brag is playing a game of rock paper scissors with him when I saw them live. He's very flexible and will not hesitate to throw himself on the floor.

Rain :

On bass we have Rain. He plays a couple different basses in the show. If you tend to get confused with instruments, your best bet is to count the strings. A regular guitar has 6 while a bass guitar has 4. He's taller than Phantom and Dew but he still has a small frame, he's our lanky boy.

They changed most of the ghouls' masks this summer so this is not a 100% method anymore but his mask used to have a little patch on the right side that one of the horns was poking out of. His nose is always poking out from underneath and he wears tape on the bridge of it. He rarely rolls his sleeves but it does happen. He doesn't have a compression shirt underneath. His cuffs still have ruffles. He only wears his balaclava over his mouth

He's often classified as shy by the fandom, he acta a bit more neutral on stage than the other ghouls but he does have his moments. He's not very stable on his feet hence the name Rain.

Mountain :

Mountain is our drummer. He's the tallest of our ghoul.

I don't remember what was special about his mask before it got changed but he's often recognized by sheer height alone. After concerts before bows, he can sometimes be seen walking around the stage without his vest and/or shoeless. His sleeves don't have ruffles anymore. He wears a balaclava for official pictures but not on stage, he paints his exposed skin black instead.

We don't have a lot on him personality wise given he's hiding behind a drum kit the entire show. The people who know more about drums than me seem to agree that he has a bit of an aggressive playing style.

Swiss :

Then we have our multi ghoul Swiss (my beloved). He plays a rain shaker, a tambourine and allegedly a black hagstrom viking baritone guitar. He also does backing vocals. He's the tallest after Mountain and our boy is large.

Before they changed the masks, he had a small patch on the left side, kind of behind and below the horn. He rolls up his sleeves with no compression shirt and has ruffles at the cuffs. He doesn't wear a balaclava and can often be identified by his bigass smile.

He is feral. He is The Whore. He will secude everything and everyone in his path. He definitely likes to act very sexual on stage and has no shame in grabbing his band mates in less than appropriate ways. Sometimes he does things that he's the only one to know why. Be warned he cheats at rock paper scissors.

Then we have the ghoulettes

They all have pretty much the exact same uniform without variation at all but they can be differentiated by their body type and personality. They also have capes compared to the boys.

Cirrus :

She's on keys and keytar. She's quite tall and has an average body type. She has her own solo during Mummy Dust on keytar and she's absolutely rocking to it. Loves to interact with fans during it.

Cumulus :

She's on keys, tambourine and backing vocals. She's the roundest of the ghoulettes and she's rather small. In my opinion she's the most wholesome ghoul, she just wanna spread love.

Aurora :

She's on backing vocals and tambourine. Smallest of them all, she makes Dewdrop look like a giant. She has a big personality and she's the ghoulette that jumps and dances around the most.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghost #cirrus ghoulette #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #cumulus ghost #aurora ghoulette #meerkat talks about ghost costumes #kind of

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shieldofiron · 1 month

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Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979.

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,”

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes:

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it.

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things #my writing #DJATS au #Daisy jones and the six au #tw drugs

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nobrashfestivity · 4 months

Text

Personal rambling on Robert Johnson (don't feel you have to read this)

Since last night's song was a Robert Johnson song, I feel like mentioning that I always find it stomach churning how his musical legacy was talked about a large part of the music community.

His name was the subject of two complexly fabricated stories designed to cast him in a musical light that was comfortable to white musicians and writers.

The first one was silliness about him selling his soul to the devil so he could play guitar. It was such an incredibly popular myth (they made movies about it) and when I was a kid it seemed harmless enough until I realized it was to fuel the idea that white culture had about black artists. To whites, black musicians could never be scholarly and learned, doing the difficult task of mastering a musical instrument. Even though so many back musicians were highly educated the trope of the "natural black musician" that didn't have to learn it because they were part of a primitive culture and they were born into music, is a destructive stereotype that lives on today. It's adjacent to the racist "Black people have rhythm" stereotype.

Black people invented so much of American music but it's always been criticized until it is popular enough to be coopted by white artists. I'm not suggesting that white artists refrain from playing and adapting any sort of music, only that there's a lineage from "Jazz is not music" to "Rock and Roll is not music" to "Hip-Hop is not music." I wonder what all these kinds of music have in common!

Fewer people know the more recent Johnson myth that started on the internet, that his recordings were sped up and that's how he sang so high and played difficult things so fast. This had no basis in fact, it was an internet rumor. I felt it was also based on an ingrained racist idea about blues. White musicians had decided it sounded more "Authentic slower despite the fact that Johnson was only 25 years old when he recorded his first records and had ever right to sound like the young man he was. I have been over the "evidence" of this speed changing conspiracy and it was no basis in fact for about 10 reasons I wont bore you with. I just feel it's a lingering and unfortunate cultural picture of the blues that it's a bunch of uneducated black people getting drunk and singing that their baby left them. It can be extremely sophisticated and lyrical music.

I am not accusing everyone of being a racist. Many white musicians genuinely adored, shared the music of and credited Johnson for his genius. Keith Richards famously said when he first heard a record of Johnson paying solo he asked "Who's the guy playing with him?"

The thing I find unfortunate is that endless parade of Blues Hammer bands (Terry Zwigoff KNEW) that have systematically dismantled the elegance of the early rural music. The culture makes it hard for anyone to listen to Johnson and not think of some white hat mustached bar band who thinks they are covering Eric Clapton. And it's just a shame that, in a sense, he will remain this cliche of the guy selling his soul to the devil (so he could play hot licks!) instead of the graceful writer and musician he really was.

And to the poets and writers out there who analyze song lyrics, for me Johnson has some tremendously wry and dense allusions.

I recall reading Stephen Calt (I think) saying that in Johnson's song "Dead Shrimp Blues" "Shrimp" was a 19th century French slang term for a sex worker, long outmoded when he used it. I find these coded aspects to the music really interesting.

In the song last night "Come on in my kitchen" which is all at once mournful and salacious, there's one of Johnson's references to Hoodoo culture:

"Oh, she's gone, I know she won't come back I've taken the last nickel out of her nation sack You better come on in my kitchen It's goin' to be rainin' outdoors"

ethnographer and folklorist Tony Kail writes:

During the 1930’s Anglican minister Harry Middleton Hyatt traveled the United States performing interviews with numerous devotees of Hoodoo and African-American spiritualism. During his stay in Memphis Tennessee Hyatt encountered an informant who shared about a curious artifact known as the ‘nations sack’. Other local terms used for the sack included ‘nations bag’ and probably the most used term the ‘nation sack’.

Hyatt’s informant shared that the sack was worn by females typically around their waist. The sack contained money and objects considered to be ‘lucky’. One practitioner shared with Hyatt that some nation sack owners would place parts of a chicken egg inside the bag while others spoke of adding objects such as roots, snuffboxes and silver dimes. One informant shared that some women utilize materials such as a dollar bill covered in their mate’s urine inside of their nation sacks. Some were used in conjunction with a string that could be tied to ‘tie’ up a man’s ‘nature’ or sexual prowess. The magical principal that appeared frequently was that the ingredients in the nation sack could keep a man faithful and a woman protected. Hyatt’s informant he nicknames the ‘Nation Sack Woman’ advises the minister that the bag is off limits to men and should never be touched by a man.

But a favorite Johnson lyric for me is positively psychedelic for 1937 and is from "Love in vain" which perhaps is popularly known from being covered by The Rolling Stones .

"When the train, it left the station, with two lights on behind the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind."

#personal #robert johnson #Okay I didn't intend to go on like that #this is what happened when i can't sleep

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lurkingshan · 1 month

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Rose's Day of Asks

Top 5 QL couples that you think can truly have a HEA?

Have a great Day💜

Oh hi Rose! I would be honored to participate. This is a great question because there are not actually that many qls where I end the show convinced the couple will stay together for the long haul, either because the characters are very young, the relationship problems are not entirely addressed, I don't fully believe in their bond, or I picture the characters changing in a way that is not compatible. There are a handful that I have a hard time imagining ever breaking up, though.

Pat and Pran, Bad Buddy

After everything these two went through to be together and, crucially, stay together? Ain't no way. They've already survived being forced to compete with each other, feuding friends and families, years-long separation, long distance, and plenty of serious conflicts both with each other and with threats external to the relationship. They will survive the rest and live together through it all.

Kasuga and Nomoto, TsukuTabe

It took them so long to find each other, and now that they have you can bet they will be sticking together. These two are so well matched, and they each provide something the other needs, both where food and emotion are concerned. Nomoto is kind and curious and Kasuga is steady as a rock. They decided to move in together before they even kissed (the u-haul lesbian jokes write themselves). I can easily picture them still sitting at that table eating together in 40 years.

Payu and Rain, Love in the Air

These two are so young, but this is a situation of two perfectly suited people finding each other at an improbably early age. It's rare, but it happens! They are not only a perfect match for each other sexually, but their personalities are also very-well suited. Payu needs to direct his care taking energy to someone who wants it, and Rain needs someone to give him attention, motivation and focus. They give each other a lot of joy and you can feel how happy they are whenever they're together. They will have a long life together pushing each other to succeed and discovering new kinks.

Baram and Hantae, Sing My Crush

These two have been devoted to each other since the day they met. They love each other and they like each other and I can't imagine either of them wanting to be with anyone else. Even if Han Baram's music career takes off, he will be bringing Im Hantae along with him.

Achi and Karan, Cherry Magic Thailand

They are husbands! And even if they weren't, I would like to see you try to pry Karan away from Achi. This one is interesting because we have multiple adaptations of this particular story, but for me Karan and Achi are the pair I believe in the most. Achi really put in the work to learn how to communicate and reciprocate Karan's affections, and their bond with each other feels mutual and rock solid. They're going to have a long and happy life together and be that sickeningly sweet married couple everyone else rolls their eyes about (except for Pai, she will be in the background swooning).

#this was a fun one thanks rose!!#bad buddy #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #love in the air #sing my crush #cherry magic th #multi bl #shan recommends #shan answers

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sugar-coat-it · 23 days

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hi belle! what do you think body piercer is like as a bf 👉👈

also would you do an alphabet or something for him? lowkey dying for more content for him

Hiii!! <3

Omgggg wait wait let me tell you some details

He’s very much into punk rock (Fugazi, Rage Against The Machine, etc.) and lives in his band tees. Much like the back room of the parlor, a lot of his stuff is covered in stickers for his fav bands. So I think he’d really like to introduce his girl to his music if she’s willing to try it out, it would mean a lot to him!

Whenever he picks her up, he’s always blasting music LOUD so she knows when he arrives

Big fan of CDs. You can bet your ass that he’s burning CDs for her for all sorts of things. Songs that remind him of her, songs he wants to fuck her to. Some of them are stupid too, like “Good Shit” scrawled in black Sharpie on a disc. Sometimes he’ll scribble little drawings on there too. His handwriting is shit and she loves it.

Also music related, he's an amazing concert bf, always making sure she can see and no one is getting too close to her. He'd be SO PROUD if she went to a punk rock show with him

Now… if she ever did say she was interested in getting another piercing of any kind, he is begging her to let him do it for her (for free, with princess treatment). He’s very much like “fuck yeah, do it” whenever she brings up a tatt or piercing of any kind

Quietly cuddling, he’s tracing her features with his finger, he comes to the bridge of her nose and he’s suddenly like “You have a good nose for a septum piercing” and she’s like “???”

He remembers everything about her, and he makes a point to, even if he has to write sticky note reminders to himself sometimes (ADHD brain as hell)

This man SMOKES. My god his marijuana tolerance level is ungodly. If his girlie is into it too, it would be the joy of his life to roll spliffs for her.

Big fan of getting baked with her, putting on music, and then going off about the album’s impact on the music world because he knows she likes listening to him talk, and none of his boys let him ramble on nearly as much

The late-night diner visits after hotboxing his car go CRAZY (side note, don’t ask me why, but I feel like he has a rubber duck on his dashboard)

One time after a smoke session they built a fort in his room and made out for close to an hour, all giggly and hazy

I think he’d like to let his girl paint his nails. He prefers black, but he wouldn’t mind painting his nails the same shade as girlie’s so they can match

He also let her braid his mohawk once… lol

Tea had sent me an idea about this, but he’d absolutely buy her engraved jewelry. Like… barbells with hearts that have little M’s engraved on them??? Holy shit

Also, from a discussion with B, HE GOES SO FERAL WHEN SHE GOES BRALESS AND HE CAN SEE HER PIERCINGS THROUGH HER TOP

He keeps a Polaroid picture of her both in his wallet and at the desk in the shop

If anyone asks about it he’s like “THAT’S THE LIGHT OF MY FUCKING LIFE”

Veeery possessive. Not to a toxic point, but she is his, and he makes sure that everyone is aware in his own little ways

He likes to be touching her almost all the time. Whether it’s an arm lazily slung around her shoulders or lacing their pinkie fingers together

Really likes love bites. One time he left hickeys in the shape of a heart on her collarbone

Y’all remember that hip pouch thing he wore during the 2020 era? That but it’s filled with his girl’s things like her lipstick or her wallet so she doesn’t have to carry them

Teenage boy humor. Hella “that’s what she said” jokes

He forgets stuff at her place constantly. She’s starting to wonder if it’s on purpose at this point. Maybe it’s his own way of feeling like a more permanent part of her life

Finding his jewelry on her dresser, his lighter on her coffee table, a hoodie hung by the door

Sometimes he’ll leave his keys and come running back into her place just to end up messily kissing her against the wall

Overall, I think he probably looks a little intimidating to people because he has a mohawk and wears chains and platform boots but he’s such a sweetheart oh my god anon. He just loves her so so so much, and he’s so gentle with her. I love him. So much. That’s my baby.

And as for an alphabet, maybe! I’d be happy to if that’s something you guys would want to see

#WAHHH #my mohawked pride and joy #body piercer!matty #asks #matty healy x reader

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marrycv · 23 days

Text

You dont gotta love me, we dont have to speak…

paring : mean!ellie x dumb!reader

warnings : language, smut, mention of alcohol, weed. Ellie choking reader. fingering (r!receiving) thigh riding (r!receiving). Ellie’s a meany and Reader is dumb asf.

summary :

You didn’t know how it happened. How you and Ellie Williams ended up by being alone in the bathroom. How her hands were everywhere on you while your lips were glued to hers. How you moaned in her mouth when her tongue danced with yours. How you were rocking your hips to catch some friction to her knee that was between your thighs.

It was supposed to be a stupid game.

You were drinking your favourite drink. Something you preferred in all the alcohol on the drink table. You came with your best friend Dina, but she kinda disappeared in her current situationship with Jesse.

These two were glued on eachothers, drunk and completely unaware of the others that was around them. You were also invisible to everyone now. All alone and you were observing everyone dancing, making out, smoking and doing some crazy shit.

You tried to walk towards the bathroom when someone bumped in your shoulder.

“hey! look where your going, cunt” Ellie shout at you, completely high, red eyes and flushed cheeks. She probably just had sex with someone- it was the kind of person she was. Having one night stand with her little fan girls and forgetting their names the day after. But in some way they didn’t care less, they won in some kind of way, and honestly acted like they did. But in a way, they did won, it was Ellie, Ellie fucking Williams.

“I beg your pardon?” you shout back. Ellie was always mean with you. You never understood why, she was flirting or kind and funny with everyone else, but you. so you hated her too.

“you heard me” and she rolled her eyes at you.

you hated when people would disrespect you, and it made you always angrier with ellie.

you walked closer to ellie, wanting to look intimidating, but somehow she was a little bit taller than you- just like an inch, but you couldn’t overpower her, not when her eyes were piercing into your soul with a venom that would make you incapable to look away even if you wanted to. You just stared at her, like she wasn’t insulting you in the first place.

“take a picture, itll take longer” Ellie said as she stepped closer to you, like she waited something from you. You scoffed and walked off, not wanting to start a fight again with her.

An hour later, Someone screamed ‘7 IN HEAVEN’ and now around of 15 people were in a circle in a random piece with a bottle in the middle of it. many rounds went on as people were going 7 minutes in a bathroom with the person the bottle pointed at. You obviously didn’t want to play but Dina’s drunk ass made you sat in it. After the duo came out of the bathroom, another round started and it was Ellie’s turn. She looked annoyed and probably Dina made her play that game too. You hated that your best friend was also best friend with someone you hated more than everything.

Ellie grabbed the bottle and turned it. Her veiny hands made it impossible to not look at her and her hands and her lips and- ‘what the fuck’ you thought, wanting to get rid of your drunk state.

Without even realizing, the bottle ended on you. Obviously it did, the future is so fucking predictable.

“Hell no.” Ellie said in a stern voice and everyone got mad at her which caused her to go in the bathroom waiting for you because she couldn’t stand others thinking she couldn’t go in. You followed her, stressing as your anxiety was making millions of scenarios in your mind.

You got in the bathroom and closed the door. Ellie was sitting on the floor, on her phone. You sat- the furthest you could in that tiny piece. You looked at her, trying to read her mind, but she was like a grave whose name got erased by the wind and rain. She was a mystery and you could never figure how she could feel or her mood. If she was happy and joking around, she still could be mean and could easily get mad. If she was mad, she still could do jokes and make others laugh or whatever the fuck, her emotions were always mixed.

You find yourself, again, staring at her. For the third time today, your eyes would always end up on her figure since you two got that close after ages. Last time it happened, ellie tried to kiss you, but you refused. Which now you always wonder what would’ve happened if you accepted it or if you told her you had a crush on her and didnt want to be a sex toy for her.

Which now you wonder every night what would’ve happened if you let her use you.

“Why do you hate me?” you asked her

Ellie lifted her eyes away from her phone to look at you. The tension was so high she looked like she wanted to kill you. She could, just by lifting her pinky finger. She could also manipulate you, manage to do something with your brain to torture you until the end of the time.

“You’re another specimen yn.” Ellie answered and got back to her phone. She irritated you so much.

“what?” you asked, confused. your drunken state made you so much dumb than you already were.

“you have no idea why? that’s literally fucking pathetic.”

“you’re pathetic to hate me for something so small i dont even know what i did to you.” you spat back, being furious at her mean comments.

Ellie let go of her phone as she stood up, you did the same, not wanting her to gain power over you- as you had any..

Ellie checked you out- her eyes looking up and down at you, as she was gonna eat your soul. Maybe she already was.

“Wait- is it because of that time where i rejected you?” You asked her, a smirk growing on your lips as you saw her jaw clenching and her usual ‘mad’ loud breathing. You finally could read her. You hurt her ego.

“Aww, Ellie, i didnt know a refuse of a simple little kiss could hurt that ego of yours so mu-” And before you could finish your sentence, ellie’s fingers were around your throat, tighten it as you felt that you didn’t have enough air to breathe

“you shut the fuck up or i swear to god you’ll regret it”

Even though she was hurting you- as fucked up you were, she looked so fine and it turned you on.

“Or what Ellie? You’re gonna kill me or finish what you didn’t start?” You told her as your fuzzy and drunken mind wasn’t even thinking and saying shit you absolutely would never say. Her grip around your throat loosened and she grabbed your shirt to pull you closer to her as she kissed you- not letting you time to reject her again- as if you wanted yo.

You quickly returned the kiss and held her closer by the neck. Her hands going on your back as they made their way on your hips, making you closer to her as if it was even possible. Your chest glued to eachothers and kissing noises with the far music of the party playing was so intoxicating and so intense.

Its when you didn’t know how it happened as her fingers got into your pants and your underwear searing for the place you needed her most. “Els..” You looked at her, whining at the need of her. “What? Use your words, slut, i cant read your stupid mind” She was making you going over the edge. “please… i-i need you” She smirked and entered a finger in you as her thumb played with your clit. Her lips everywhere on your neck, kissing the bruises she left after her hands were left as your new favourite necklace. At least you were oblivious enough for her to not realize how much you loved it when she did it. You were moaning against her, small whimpers leaving your opened lips. You wanted yet more.

“Ellie- fuck… Please!” She was torturing you at this point, going painfully slow as your clit was burning. She wasnt giving you enough, it was only painful because you almost couldnt feel anything- you needed more.

“Shh, i know, i know. Hold on yeah? can you do this for me- shit”

Her raspy voice could make you cum right there, right now.

You nodded as you literally became to ride her fingers, becoming louder and louder against her ear. your face hiding in the crock of her neck, as you were holding yourself on her shoulders, trying your best to ride yourself on her, trying to reach your peak with her finger inside of you.

“You shut up- or you want everyone to hear how much of a fucking slut you are, just for me”

“mhm..” Is all you could master. You bit your lips trying to hold in your moans, your moans of how good and how skilled her fingers felt against you.

“Fuck yn, Youre so wet, so fucking wet for me”

You could only nod in response, she was fucking you dumb like the dumbest person you were. drunken by not only alcohol, but how her words made your mind dizzy and how her fingers made you feel so lightheaded. She was just like a dream.

“say it, say its for me”

“it- its just for you els… ‘m wet just for you.. mh!”

And this is how you ended up in her room, her strap ponding fast and deep into you as she was making you cum for the 5th time tonight, the day afterwords you waking up alone, her ignoring you at school- more than she ever did.

not even mean comments about you, absolutely nothing.

You couldnt help but wanting for more. Couldn’t cum on your own as she completely destroyed you.

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sissylittlefeather · 3 months

Text

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 11

A/N: I'm on a roll with this one right now, so I figured I'd go ahead and publish this. ICYMI, this is the soulmate/time travel AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and biting 😏

Word count: ~3k

Somehow, you're pregnant with the child of Elvis Presley.

******

On March 12, 2017 you give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. You name him John Jessie and he has your hair and Elvis's bright blue eyes. When the doctor hands him to you, you weep openly for so many reasons, but mainly because you wish Elvis could be there to see him.

And sure, you could've made a portal sometime while you were pregnant or in that first year, but you didn't. First because you were afraid he'd change his mind about staying in his time, and second because you wanted his first experience of fatherhood to be with Lisa Marie.

But once Lisa is born, you start to think about telling him. In the evenings when you rock John Jessie to sleep, the desire to let his father know about him overwhelms you. The same thing inside you that made you tell him about your engagement all those years ago is now telling you to find him and tell him about his son.

You even have the wild inclination to pack John Jessie up and bring him with you. You consider going to his time forever and just living as an unknown girlfriend. But you think about what it would mean for Elvis if anyone found out you were there with his son. His reputation would be ruined. And aside from that, you don't want to risk taking him away from Lisa Marie in any way. There's no telling how Priscilla might react if she ever found out about you.

So instead you pack up an envelope of pictures for him to see, put it in your bag filled with vintage clothes, leave John Jessie with your mom, and head to California in June of 2018. He's filming the Singer Presents Elvis special, better known now as the '68 Comeback Special, so you know exactly where to find him. Furthermore, you know he's living at the studio, so you'll be able to get to him alone more easily than if he was at home.

You don't know how he might respond to finding out he has another child, especially one that he might never get to see and definitely won't get to raise. Still, you have to risk it. He deserves to know.

******

When you get to California, you check into your hotel and get dressed. You're going to have to find a way to sneak into the studio since it's been closed to the public for a while now. You pray that fate will be on your side again, as it always has been for the two of you.

You take a cab to the studio, but the driver won't let you off in front of it. Instead you have to get out at the corner and walk over to it. You walk all the way around the large building trying to find a way in and start to get nervous that it's not going to work. You're also dodging security the whole time and you're exhausted after trying for several hours. The sun is low in the sky when you lean your back against one of the doors and almost break down crying.

******

Elvis was unbelievably nervous to begin filming for the special. In fact, he tried to refuse at the last second, but the producer insisted. After several hours of filming, he demands a break.

"I need some air." He says, looking for a door to escape and try to relax. He had finally begun to feel comfortable on stage, but there is a different kind of nervous energy possessing him now. There's a feeling in his stomach like something is about to happen, but he has no idea what it could possibly be. He gets his answer when he finally gets outside to find the buzzing sound and wavy air hovering right in front of him.

He turns and looks back at the door to the studio and then back at the portal. His life is finally starting to be what he wants. He doesn't want to leave now. And he has his child to think of. Still, he's desperate to see you, to hold you, and feel you against him. He cares for Priscilla, that is true, but his heart still belongs to you.

******

You stand there in complete shock that you were able to find a portal here outside the building. You take a deep breath, grab your suitcase, and walk through. Thankfully, he's alone when you appear out of thin air.

"Hi." You say cautiously. He's an absolute vision standing there in his black leather outfit. Your heart is beating so hard and so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. He seems to be trying to decide how to respond. "I'm sorry to just-"

In one step, he's wrapped around you with his lips pressed to yours. He takes your face in his hands and kisses both of your cheeks and then your mouth again. The scent of cologne, sweat, and cigarillos envelops you and you could cry with the familiarity of it. Neither of you has to speak to know what's being communicated. He just holds you and strokes your hair and you rest your head against his chest. You're in this position when one of his guys pokes his head out of the door.

"Hey EP they're... oh shit, sorry." He averts his eyes like you're naked or something. "They need you to come film some more."

"Okay." Elvis speaks into your hair, his voice muffled. "Come watch. I'll find you somewhere to sit."

You pull back away from him and nod. He puts his hand on the small of your back and ushers you inside. He takes your suitcase and stashes it somewhere quickly. Then, he finds you a place to sit and heads back up to the stage.

He records the sit-down portion of the show with his old band and you melt a hundred times. You haven't seen him perform for a real audience before. Its electrifying. In varying waves, your heart is filled with love and affection and then you're so turned on you could crawl up on the stage and fuck him right there in front of all these people.

You fidget with your ring to distract yourself and realize that you wore it here. You really didn't intend to, but you've been wearing it since he gave it to you, so it was habit to put it on this morning. Somewhere inside you, he's still your husband. Priscilla might have his time, but you have his heart. When you have this thought you panic for a second that she's here. You swivel your head around frantically looking for her. From the stage, he notices your mood has changed. He catches your eye and gives you the slightest inquisitive look. You mouth Priscilla? and he shakes his head ever so slightly, so you relax back into your seat. The whole exchange is less than ten seconds long and thankfully, no one notices.

Finally, they finish the set and he's done filming for the night. You stay in your seat, not sure what to do. Should you go to him? Or will he find you? You see him standing in a group of guys laughing and talking. He doesn't seem to be coming for you, so you stand up and walk slowly towards him, without an inkling of what you'll do or say when you get to him. As you get closer, you hear him.

"Nah, guys, not tonight. I have other plans tonight."

"Other plans?" One of the guys looks at him curiously. Just then, you make it to the edge of the group and he notices you.

"Ah, speak of devil. Or angel, rather." He puts his arm around your shoulders in a casual and friendly gesture. "This is y/n. She's an old friend from Tupelo. I told her I'd show her around tonight."

One of the other guys raises his eyebrows and the others shuffle around nervously.

"Oh, calm down boys. She's married." He uses his other hand to hold up your hand and show them your ring.

"Not that that ever stopped you." One of the guys jokes. Elvis moves away from you and play punches the guy that said it.

"Okay, I'll see you guys later." With that, he puts his arm around your shoulders again and walks away. On the way out, he grabs your suitcase and then leads you to the room where he's living in the studio. Once you're inside, he shuts the door and locks it and then wraps himself around you again, kissing you deeply. When he finally pulls back, he looks into your face and laughs softly.

"Good thing you're still wearing your ring."

"Yeah that would've been hard to explain after you told them I was married."

"Yes. They don't need to know it's me you're married to." He leans in and kisses you passionately again. Then he pulls back suddenly. "It is still me, right? You're not here to tell me you married some other guy again, are ya?"

"No, it's still you I'm married to." You respond, laughing. "I am here to tell you something, though."

He looks at you curiously and tries to think of what you could possibly have to report.

"What, honey?" You pull away from him and walk to your suitcase.

"I think it's better if I just show you." You pull out the envelope of pictures and hold it in your hands, your heart pounding.

"Divorce papers?" He eyes the envelope and his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"No! No, not that at all. You should sit down, though." He walks to a chair and sits down carefully.

"You're scaring me, honey." You take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. Then, you extend your arm and hand him the envelope. He opens it cautiously and pulls out the stack of pictures. The first picture is one a nurse took in the hospital of you and John Jessie together right after he was born.

He looks up at you and his face is a mix of shock and confusion. He's not able to say anything, though, so he flips to the second picture. It's one of John Jessie that you took earlier this week.

"You... you had a baby?"

"I did."

"And the baby is this old... oh God." You watch him as he puts the pieces together. He looks at the date on the back of the first one and counts the months backwards. "This is my baby."

"Yes." You almost whisper it and he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I have a son." You're getting choked up now too, watching him.

"You do. His name is John Jessie." He stands up and wraps his arms around you, as the tears slide down his face.

"John Jessie Presley." He whispers into your hair. Then, he sniffs and stands up, looking down at the pictures. He flips through them and smiles, seeing his little boy grow from a newborn to the almost-toddler he is right now. When he gets to the end of the stack, he has a thought.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to distract you from Lisa Marie."

"Distract me?!"

"I wanted you to be focused on her." He shakes his head, but he can't argue with it. A different thought occurs.

"Why didn't you bring him with you? Where is he?"

"He's with my mom. I couldn't bring him here."

"Why not?"

"Do I need to spell out the headline for you? Elvis Presley's secret love child?"

"Oh, to hell with that. I want to see my boy."

"Did you forget that you have a wife here? Imagine how she would react."

"Again, I don't really care. He's my child."

"I just couldn't, Elvis. I can't mess with-"

"I swear to God, if you mention the damn timeline of history again, I'm gonna-"

"What? You're gonna what, Elvis?"

"I WANT TO SEE MY CHILD." He yells at you for the first time ever. He's yelled near you before, but never directly at you because he's angry with you. You stand there defiantly, both of you breathing heavily. "Take your clothes off. We're making a portal. You're gonna go get him and come back here."

"I'm not bringing him here."

"Goddamnit, y/n, then why did you tell me?!"

"I don't know. I guess I shouldn't have!" Your eyes begin to well up.

"You're damn right you shouldn't have. Now I get to live with the knowledge that I don't get to raise my own son." With that, the dam breaks and you begin to cry. He's right. You're ready to curl up and die when it hits you and you stop crying and look up at him.

"Come back with me."

"I can't leave Lisa."

"No, not like permanently. Just come with me and see him. The portals reopen right where you left from, right?"

"Yeah I'm always right back where I was when I walked through originally. Unfortunately, because it meant I had to finish filming Spinout-"

"So then I can open a portal for you any time I want and you can come through and see him. Just for a little while and then go back!" His eyes sparkle with excitement and he picks you up and spins you around.

"Haha! Yes! I can be a part of his life!" You nod and he kisses your cheek. "Oh, thank you, y/n. God, I love you. I missed you so much."

"I love you too." He smiles and kisses you tenderly.

Then, he sets you back down on the ground and kisses you again with a renewed hunger this time, his tongue parting your lips and dipping into your mouth. His desire is contagious and before you know it you're tearing at his leather jacket while he kisses your neck. You get it off of his shoulders and rip the shirt up and over his head. He literally tears your dress at the zipper and yanks it off of you. In your uninhibited passion, you sink your teeth into his shoulder and he yelps.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry."

"Do it again." He whispers in your ear. You bite into the skin on his chest and he growls deep in his throat. He removes your bra and panties with an animalistic fervor and throws them across the room. You peel his leather pants off of him as quickly as possible and he tosses you on the couch. In a second, he's pushed into you and is pounding you with a new kind of power and confidence.

"God, yes! Yes!" You yell as he fills you over and over. He holds your hip with one hand and slams into you rhythmically. He grunts and nips at your shoulder.

"You like it when I fuck you hard, baby?"

"Mmmmm harder." You moan.

"Yes ma'am." He listens to instructions and crashes into you even harder. There's a desperate kind of passion in the way he fucks you and it's everything you've needed for the last two years. He's needed it too; you can tell by the pace of his thrusts. He kisses your mouth, hard, and you bite his bottom lip. The way he drives into you is raw and dirty and makes you scream as you come as hard as you ever have while he pumps in and out of you.

"Fuck yes." He grunts through gritted teeth as he continues to pound against your hips while you pulse around him. Finally, he succumbs to the intensity of your sex and shoots you full of his warmth. As he comes, you bite him again on the chest and he lets out a guttural groan that makes you want to climb on top and fuck him again. He's dripping sweat and it mixes with your own as he collapses on top of you, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

The portal appears and he groans and rolls off of you. You scramble off the couch and try to get your clothes together. You cannot find your bra, though, and you have to dig through your suitcase for a new dress since he ruined the one you were wearing. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look like a wild animal with your fucked out eyes and hair everywhere. You're desperately trying to smooth your hair when you hear a small pop and the portal disappears.

"Oh shit." He looks at you and laughs. He stops trying to get dressed, settling for just pants, and drops back down on the couch. He produces a cigarillo from somewhere and pats the couch next to him. You pick up his black shirt and pull it on over your head and then sit next to him, lightly running your fingers over the bite marks on his chest and shoulder.

"I marked you."

"It's a good thing we're going to your time. I can't go home like this." He chuckles and lights the cigarillo, taking a long drag.

"We missed the portal." You say offhandedly.

"I guess we'll just have to have sex again."

"Oh, darn." You respond playfully, taking the cigarillo and putting it in your own mouth.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I guess I can still surprise you."

"My wife, the mystery." He puts his arm around you and takes the cigarillo back.

You stay like that on the couch for most of the night, just talking and passing the cigarillo back and forth. You tell him all about John Jessie and he tells you about Lisa and how excited he is for the potential future of his career after the special. Eventually you fall asleep on his chest and wake up to a loud knocking on the door.

"Fuck." He sits up quickly.

"We're gonna start recording in an hour, EP. I know you like a warning..."

"Yeah, I'll be there." He hollers and then looks at you and puts his finger on his mouth to indicate that you should be quiet. You stand up and start to pack up your clothes from last night and lay out a dress to put on once the portal is there. He throws some clothes in a bag too and then comes up behind you and kisses your neck.

"I believe we have some work to do." You turn to face him and he kisses you deeply, walking you back to the couch again.

This time you have sex in the most married way possible and laugh at how tame it is compared to last night. But you're both satisfied and it works to make a portal, so neither of you complains. You get dressed and pick up your bags as he takes your hand. After a deep breath, you walk through the portal together and find yourselves outside the studio in 2018.

******

To be continued...

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Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x you #elvis presley smut #how the web was woven

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arlechinav-blog · 10 months

Text

Training for Trancework

(Pictured: A working trance altar with resin incense, flowers, chocolate, salt & herbs, and a plate for monetary offerings.)

Basic Trancework -Just trance for the sake of trance. Celebration. Experimentation. Fun. Labor.

In the beginning, your efforts should be focused on just getting into and out of an altered state safely and reliably. You can do that by giving yourself permission to go all in. Embrace the magic floppy time without hesitation or second guessing yourself. Make peace with things as they are. If your hair is messy, just let that concern go. If your mind is too loud to release from your body, disconnect from your worries. Whatever holds you back from totally relaxing into yourself, put it aside temporarily.

In my opinion, the best way to do these things is to just play around with it. When starting out with any new thing, there should be a childhood phase. It may grow to be a serious thing later but in the beginning, you get to be childlike and just explore what is possible and what you like. Whatever brings you a sense of peace and joy. That will give you a strong foundation to build upon later.

On a practical level, that will mean putting on some music or playing with live musicians and engaging in simple repetitive (dance) movements that disrupt the body's equilibrium. Rocking side to side or front to back, whirling, rolling movements that ripple from the spine through the limbs. It is okay to flop on the group. Trance dancing is dance but it is more to be felt than seen so it doesn't have to look dignified in any way. Just enjoy yourself and let your mind go.

If you are developing trancework as a musician (musician's trance is definitely a thing) then at this stage you will want to practice your music until you feel confident with it and then condition yourself to relax more and more as you go. Committing a song to memory will really help, that way you don't have to stay focused. Your muscle memory will carry you through but only if you have trained your body to do it while fully awake first.

Catalyst Trancework -Trancework that utilizes a fuel source to propel you deeper into an altered state. This can be a heavy emotion like love, rage, or grief, OR a substance like alcohol that can melt away barriers between the active wakeful mind and the loose uninhibited mind. It can also just be a power object that you introduce whenever you trance that will send you over the other side.

Once you have the basics down and you can get in and out of a trance without much difficulty, you will want to shift to a different goal. At this stage, you will want to build up your hypnotic conditioning to reduce your reaction time and encourage muscle memory over active waking-mind reactions. This is where trancework starts getting formal. If you want to engage with Med style trancework then you will wear white when you trance. Every time. This conditions your mind to only trance when you are wearing white and it helps to keep you out of an altered state when you don't want to be in one.

At this stage you can use colors, symbols, and scents to create the hypnotic suggestion that now is the time to trance as well as what kind of trance you want to engage in. Use different incense, scented oils, and perfumes to trigger different muscle memory states. Use each scent consistently and for no other purpose to keep those associations strong. They will build over time.

You can also paint symbols on your body that have deeper occult meanings for you personally or culturally. I use mud, henna, and wood ash to create designs on my body for this. They can be for protection, for magic, for enhancement, for whatever you need. Just use them consistently and for no other purpose than this.

This is a good stage to start developing group trancework as well. Through repetitive chain or circle dances with others. Just like with the musician's trance training described above, you will want to learn and perfect the dances you want to use while fully awake and then begin conditioning yourself to relax while doing them in a trance. This places the burden of movement on your muscle memory rather than your active wakeful mind.

As a musician, you can start weaving more complicated rhythms and start developing your skills at improvisation. To do this as a singer, take one or two songs that you know really well and start amusing yourself by crafting new lyrics for them. Do it often in a wakeful state. The goal of this is to condition the mind to be able to improvise lyrics in an altered state. This is used in traditional Mediterranean mediumship where the ability to spontaneously compose verse from the perspective of the dead provides proof of state. With an instrument you will probably end up going down a folkloric numerical rabbit hole. Where each number has a spiritual significance and you start anchoring the music you make to those numerical associations.

Ecstatic Trance -Spiritwork. Any trancework that involves spirits other than your own but not gods. This can be a form of automatic mediumship, or some form of possession. The Cult of the Winds and some of the trancework relating to both the Mountain Mothers & Dionysos fit this description.

There are so many angles to developing the knowledge and skills for this type of trancework. If you are a Bride then you would initiate into a living tradition or a reconstructed one with people that you trust. To develop skills as a Bride, you will want to practice extremely strict compartmentalization and reinforcement of your hypnotic triggers. The exact parameters of what you would do here depends on what spirit you are a Bride to.

If you are a musician then you will spend a lot of time memorizing threads (spirit chants) and rhythms. There can be dozens to hundreds of threads depending on which spirit cult you are involved with. You will also devote some energy to strict compartmentalization of your hypnotic triggers, which are also cult specific.

If you are training as a monitor (someone who watches over the entranced), you will spend a lot of time in the trenches watching the body language of the entranced and learning to read the signs to interpret what is going on. And, of course, you will spend time learning how to troubleshoot various scenarios where your skills will be tested.

If you are training to be a lead musician then buckle up because you will have to learn all of it and then some. To be a lead musician is to intimately and skillfully be able to perform every role used in trancework. You will also want to start acquiring gear that your trance group will need to host a ritual. (I'll make a separate post on what kind of materials you will want to have on hand for that.)

Euphoric or Enthusiastic Trance -Bridalwork, which is ecstatic trance with gods instead of spirits. This will also be cult specific. Some euphoric traditions just focus on becoming closer to divinity for no other purpose than it is holy and desirable. Others use music as a diagnostic process to see if a person has run afoul of a god. And still others utilize euphoric trance to drive away lesser spirits who are making problems for mortals.

This is the most formal type of trancework there is. That formality is there as a safety feature and to facilitate the creation of proof of state. The more strict you are with this type of trancework, the farther you will go with it. It takes a lot of faith. You have to know what you are doing with absolute certitude and commit to it fully. The more reverence you put into it in your waking life, the deeper your connection while entranced.

Unfortunately those three different ritual goal styles listed in the description have radically different needs so I cannot help too much in a general sense. The major thing that connects them is that formality though. So focus on that, cultivate strong relationships with divinity by doing things the way you are supposed to do them when you are supposed to do them. And this will build over time and repetition.

A Final Note Taking your sweet time is very important. Rushing to an imagined destination or an end goal will create a weak foundation. I recommend spending at least a year of active weekly development on your skills for each stage before actively moving on to the next. You can build your skills in each type of trance up all at the same time but it will still take years. The longer you keep at it and more consistently you do it the more you will be able to do with it. This is a lifelong pursuit.

Hope this helps! Good luck.

#trance work #hellenic polytheism #spiritwork

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