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strangerthingsreversebigbang · 6 days

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In case you missed them, here are the next ten works posted from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

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Under the Myrtle by @lorifragolina | Art by @raven-cl

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington's parents

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove

Summary: A shepherd and a stranger, in the woods by the lake, under the myrtle, in a sweet, warm spring. There is love, there are secrets, there are broken promises and faith in the gods. --- He was wearing the white tunic, almost completely opened on his chest, and a golden chain was sparkling around his neck. He was barefoot and the pebbles and twigs seemed to not bother him. The man stood near him, looking at him with a smile. He was more or less as tall as him, but for some reason Steve felt uneasy in front of him. He sat up and looked at the man in return, speechless and bewitched. “You…” he heard himself whispering to the stranger. The air seemed still and he feared breathing. The man giggled, and this little laugh seemed like the song of a fresh and cheerful waterfall. “It’s you who spies on people when they are taking their baths?” The man asked, still smiling under his tiny mustaches, tilting his head to him. Steve nodded. He couldn't trust his own voice. “You scared me,” continued the other sweetly. Steve blinked, and the man got nearer and sat at his side.

Rooftop Blues and Midnight Reds by @flowercrowngods | Art by @maikaartwork

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): max mayfield, steve harrington, eddie munson, wayne munson

Relationship(s): max mayfield & steve harrington, max mayfield & eddie munson, max mayfield & wayne munson, steve harrington/eddie munson

Summary: The world ended, and then it didn't. In the aftermath, Max is left with the need to re-learn what it means to be a person, and learn what it means to have a family. One September night, on the rooftop of her new home, she comes one step closer to both of those, and learns what it means to have hope.

Sol Invictus by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Art by @waldos-art

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington (Unrequited)

Summary:

The prince smiles and plucks the lute from his limp fingers, carefully setting it down next to the bed. Eddie can’t recall when he stopped playing. “Look at you. Not just easy on the eyes, but smart to boot. Knew I made a good choice with you.”

Those graceful fingers are on his face now, caressing his cheekbones on either side, slipping into his curls, and Eddie’s insides are warm and light.

“My prince—” he starts to say, but that pretty face twists into a scowl and a soft finger pushes against his lips.

“Let’s try something new, Just Eddie.” Those beautiful eyes are alight with mischief, a temptation dangling just barely within reach. “When we're like this … Can I be Just Steve? Do you think you can do that?”

Something inside Eddie coils.

“Steve,” he whispers against pink lips. The name is sweet nectar, the juice of forbidden fruit on a hot summer day, a sin and a secret and an oath.

Steve smiles and the sun rises in the moonlit room.

Eddie says his name a thousand times more on that night and the nights that follow.

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In a world where the king is worshipped as the living embodiment of the sun itself, two boys learn to navigate life in their golden cage.

Spark Notes by @nomadicwolf | Art by @freedom-in-darkness

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Carol Perkins, Tommy Hagan, Barbara "Barb" Holland, Fred Benson

Relationship(s): Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Summary: It was love at first sight. One look at Nancy Wheeler was enough for Steve Harrington to fall head over heels. While Steve is no stranger to the art of seduction, he soon realizes that Nancy is going to require a different level of courting than he's accustomed to. He enlists the help of Jonathan Byers to help send love letters to her. Over time they develop a friendship and while Steve's affections for Nancy never falter, he begins to think he might be able to feel this way for two people at once.

Nothin' to Show by @bifuriouswaterbender | Art by @madaboutmunson

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Billy Hargrove, Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Jim "Chief" Hopper

Relationship(s): Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary: Vecna Industries couldn't keep getting away with their criminal enterprises. Luckily Dustin knew a few people with just the skills to take them down. He just hoped they could learn to play nice with each other. AKA, The Fruity Four as a Leverage AU.

Playing with Fire by @betty-boom | Art by @waldos-art

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve's bounty hunts and contracts never usually lasted a full year, until now, and he's unsure how to cope. Until Eddie shows up to speed things up.

5 times Eddie tempts Steve + 1 time Steve finally gives in

Feel the Tide Shifting (and wait for the spark) by @maxinemaxmayfield | Art by @hereforanepilogue

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Appy

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Original Characters

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington & Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Steve's daughter is his entire world. He doesn't really have time for anything - or anyone - else. But when they take a trip to see the dolphins at the Indianapolis Zoo for her ninth birthday, Steve gets a blast from the past that could change his whole future.

Butter, Sugar, and Northern Mockingbirds by @thefreakandthehair | Art by @janie-bean

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Stranger Things Ensemble

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson

Summary:

“Holy shit, Steve, this cookie has no right to be this good,” Eddie praises, cookie crumbs stuck to the corner of his lips. “What did you put in this? Drugs? Is it drugs? I feel like it could be drugs, they’re that good.”

It’s not the first time he’s felt these proverbial butterfly wings flapping against the inside of his ribs. Every time they’re alone together, every time their shoulders graze or eyes meet, every time Steve sees Eddie smile with that stupid dimple that not even the slashing scar across his cheek can hide, the little thing with wings that’s taken up residence close enough to his heart to set it alight goes insane.

He should know how to handle the feeling by now, but he doesn’t.

You're Under My Skin (burning in my bloodstream) by @lihhelsing | Art by @lady-lostmind

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Gareth

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve's not sure why he keeps betting on things with Robin when he knows he's going to lose. Except this time the bet ends up with him getting his nipple pierced and it seems like the guy who's about to run a needle through his skin is hotter than Steve expected and he's having trouble keeping it together.

But after a charged first encounter, Steve has no way to get in touch with Eddie and thinks he lost his chance until he runs into him in the most unexpected of places and finds out Eddie is a lot more than Steve initially thought.

OR; Eddie gives Steve a piercing and Steve is clueless about his true identity.

Rebel Girl by @annanevermore | Art by @artbean

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Eddie, Chrissy, Robin, Steve

Relationship(s): Eddie & Chrissy, Eddie/Steve, Chrissy/Robin

Summary: Chrissy Cunningham has been dealing with a lot lately, between her mom and her new relationship with Robin and deciding what to do with herself after high school. Eddie has been dealing with quite a lot himself too. When things come to a head for Chrissy and she gives herself a rather disastrous haircut, she naturally goes to Eddie to help her fix it. What else are best friends for?

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Stay tuned for more incredible works from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

#stranger things #stranger things reverse big bang #strbb #posting round up #harringrove #stoncy #steddie #hellcheer #the fruity four

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odetopictorialism · 8 months

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Fred Holland Day • Untitled, 1910

#pictorialism

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destinyc1020 · 4 months

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Fred Astaire Update: 20/December/2023

"King passed on Paddington 3 to take on the film, but jokes he will be back “for 4 through 12”. For now, though, he is “currently unemployed — but there are a few irons in fires”. One of which is an Astaire biopic starring Tom Holland. “We’re working on a script and Tom’s fantastic, but it’s early days."

Source:

https://www.screendaily.com/features/paul-king-talks-casting-timothee-chalamet-in-wonka-hes-slightly-unknowable-like-hes-stepped-in-from-another-world/5188922.article

Thanks Anon! 🥰

It sounds like they're still working on the script then... wow.

I think I recall Tom saying smthg to that effect as well during TCR FYC press.

I wonder how often it is that they hire the actor for the role before the script is even written? I guess it must happen often? 🤔

Is competition in the industry THAT tight that you better jump on to a project before the script is even finalized before other actors are offered the role? Or is it that they want THAT particular actor for the role before they have even written a script? 🤔

If someone who works in the ET/acting business could chime in and clarify, that would be GREAT!

Because a lot of times, I hear actors say that they took on a particular role because the script just called to them, and it was really interesting.... and then others, it seems they're announced for a role, and then it's a long waiting game on actually writing the actual SCRIPT. 👀

#Fred Astaire Biopic #update #tom holland #paul king #screen daily

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caltropspress · 9 months

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DEBRIEFING: 5 August 2023 | Brooklyn, NY | The Nursery at Public Records

Armand Hammer’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips Pop Up Party, featuring Fatboi Sharif, Cavalier, and DJ Haram

On the helix approaching the Lincoln Tunnel I saw a Virginia plate that read PHUNKE—its occupants seemed anything but, but who am I to judge? Not since I saw EGO DETH on a Volkswagen Kombi in the artificial light of the Holland while driving in to see woods’ Church release show at Baby’s All Right in early June have I taken a license plate as a sign. Fred Moten writes that “the sign works its terrible magic precisely from within a radical non-isolation,” but it’s a bit too early in the everyday struggle for theory, wouldn’t you agree? What I’m focused on is the WE BUY DIABETIC TEST STRIPS signs plastered over walls and poles. A sight as common in NYC as POST NO BILLS and CA$H FOR CAR$. We close our eyes to these signs, oblivious to their ubiquity. We’ve become blind to them. But I saw the sign with “Armand Hammer” appended to it, and it opened up my eyes. Life is demanding without understanding. So I overstand the signs and signals sent through wires and cables when I dial 1-877-ARM-N-HMR. I focus. I fixate. I study Alexander Richter’s photograph from the forthcoming album of a lamppost covered in taped and torn flyers. The edges fray and flicker in city winds. Looks like the tendons and flesh rotting from the bones of Death in Hans Baldung Griend’s Der Tod und das Mädchen (1517) painting. Looks like some real litter-ature. Gathering on August 5th, just six days shy of hip-hop’s much-heralded 50th anniversary, I think of hip-hop flyers of the past, specifically Kool Herc’s Back to School Jam at 1520 Sedgwick. But MC Debbie D—a flyerologist of the highest order—tells us that the index card flyer is a phony, a fake, a fugazi replica, a forgery. Fifty years into this thing and we’re still searching for authentic experiences. Fifty people at a rap show and one’s an informant. I’m here to inform on what felt—brain to bone—like an authentic experience.

3PM in the sun. I lined up with the other RSVPs (the show was free, in every sense of the word) outside the venue. Summer summer summertime. Fresh Prince via Juice shit. The temp on my dash read 90°. Kids walked down Butler Street mantled with beach towels from the Douglass and DeGraw Pool. Spotted lanternflies dive-bombed my legs. Thank god I lotioned my pale neck. When the powers-that-be finally allowed us entry, the musk of maryjane and malignant body odor was thick. Now I knew (it hit me in the fucking face) what that PHUNKE license plate was all about. “Funk,” from the French dialectal funkière: “to blow smoke on.” I’m not complaining, though—it was a communal fumigation. We were funky technicians, one and all.

“The Nursery” that Public Records has built falls somewhere between greenhouse and Zen garden. The square space is essentially an urban enclosure where pine and plane trees and fresh lumber create a private performance patio, a paradise just beyond the concertina wire, as woods might say. The stage is bedecked with potted cacti, while I spied A. Richter across the way with his Fujifilm GA645Zi amongst the bamboo stalks. ELUCID’s green Champion mesh football jersey (the Bo Jackson jersey in the laundry, apparently) matched the soundsystem monitors, and I found what little shade there was to be had and huddled close to the soundman’s booth, a shed of glass. I almost managed to forget I was cordoned off by beige shipping containers.

It wasn’t long before I was entertaining the idea of going full Fatboi Sharif, i.e., shirtless. Sharif himself only made it through half his set before shedding his garb—there wasn’t even a hospital gown in sight. The heat was on as soon as he came out to Can Ox’s “Scream Phoenix”—rising from flames. El-P’s Phillip Glass sample could’ve easily made a Sharif beat (we’re only talking a single generation removal, really). Sharif made quick work of some of his most recent altered realities. “Static Vision” included a call [I ain’t scared!] and response [Motherfucker, I ain’t scared!]. He ran through “Phantasm,” “Dimethyltryptamine,” “Designer Drugs,” “Think Pieces,” and “The Christening” like a buxom blonde through an abandoned building, revving chainsaw in pursuit. At times, his speech slurred into a makeshift Swahili (word to This Heat). It was strange to see Sharif in daylight, sunstruck, as I’m so used to seeing him in blood-flooded cellars or Joseph Conrad’s heart of darkness environs, like he alludes to on “Dimethyltryptamine.” He barreled through ventricles, riding shotgun in Sir Menelik’s Space Cadillac. DJ Boogaveli (who hypes up Sharif like it’s a pep rally at Springwood High) shouted about family at the start of “The Christening,” which sounded sincere compared to the tone Sharif takes on Decay—there the family must be of the Manson or Duggar milieu. He finished the track acapella, exhausting the last of his energy, only to reinvigorate and reanimate for a rioting rendition of “Smithsonian.”

I’ve yet to invest the necessary time into Cavalier’s work, though I know him from his association with Quelle Chris. With an album coming down the pike from Backwoodz, I found myself in the lucky position of witnessing his set incapable of discerning old material from new. He took centerstage, acting as his own hype-man and DJ (though he did high-five the invisible “DJ Light-skin” at one point), and his kineticism was immediately apparent. His floral button-down danced over his body as he rapped vitally. I felt vivisected by his exhortations and incisive observations. Keep in mind, my age prohibits me from becoming enthralled by any performer whose work I’m unfamiliar with—a sort of neuropathy of the soul. But he had me open and endeared by the time he implored, Put the tiger balm on it, put the tiger balm. As you wish, Cav. I lathered my chest.

“Y’all believe in magic? No? That’s okay.” Cav said it so quickly that he didn’t give anyone a chance to answer, but he assumed correctly, I think. Still, I was smitten by his conjurations—he made me a believer (no small task). “King me,” he rapped, “I’m trying to make it all across the board.” And, by the end of it, he had the entire crowd shouting “KING ME” back at him without a problem. MAKE SOME BLOODCLOT NOISE! he growled, and we didn’t need to be asked twice. IT’S VIBRATIONAL, AIN’T IT? With a seemingly innocuous phrase he was able to summon the spirit of the crowd. Over the course of his 25-minute set, I heard him rhyme epiglottis, brag of spitting a verse while performing cunnilingus, give a lesson on homophones, and regale us with stories of winking at cops in Whole Foods. “From the Tree of Life I smoke foliage,” he said, and the trees Betty Smith saw grow in Brooklyn circulated through his lungs. “We need to bring back weed spots—it’s not nostalgia.” Though he did rap nostalgically at times, letting us know he was born in BK, went to school not far from where we stood, and though he’s representing the 504 now, Brooklyn born-and-raised ossified his being into bone.

THIS IS CHURCH, YA FEEL ME? And I did feel him. I spent the week culling quotes about improvisation from Amiri Baraka’s Black Music (1967) for another self-assignment (I don’t work for anyone, son), and highlighted this passage: “...to go back in any historical (or emotional) line of ascent in Black music leads us inevitably to religion, i.e., spirit worship. This phenomenon is always at the root in Black art, the worship of spirit—or at least the summoning of or by such force.” [Peace to Kehinde Alonge—always at the ready with choicest recommendations.] Cavalier danced upon the altar and rapped his sermon relentlessly, tirelessly. I was raised up on tippy-toes, enthralled by the force of his spirit. THIS AIN’T JAZZ?! he asked. WHAT THE FUCK THEY TALKIN’ ABOUT MAN? I don’t know who’s doing that sort of talking, but they’d be hard-pressed to say such a thing in this public gathering. “Brooklyn, this is how it feels—all of us together: this is how it feels.” I believed in Cavalier’s magic by the end of his set. I was charmed by his satchel of High John de Conqueror. Let me know where to Venmo my tithe.

The heat index had my vision tunneling. When Armand Hammer stepped on stage, sounds were moving in reverse, and the Class-A dynamite duo took us back (way back) in time, when ELUCID was in “fifth grade in [his] dad jeans” and he “played Game Boy in the backseat.” woods, with his first words of the afternoon, said he “rather be codependent than co-defendants.” This must’ve been “Landlines,” the lead-off from the new album, seeing as how they shouted-out JPEGMAFIA, ELUCID rapped “leave a message after the beep,” and a dial tone toned between verses. It was off the hook, as they say.

They seemed to be following the official We Buy Diabetic Test Strips tracklist, because next up was “Woke Up and Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die” (a song with a title so long that it must’ve come from the magnum mind of ELUCID). She replied, she replied, she replied… they repeated, but I didn’t quite catch what that chatbotbitch said. woods refashioned a line from “Remorseless” with “Life’s a blip, I’m swimming under the radar.” Life’s a blip and then you die, that’s why we puff lye. Further deepening the uncanny valley, their third offering to the musty masses included “fake trees in the Apple Store.” I’m sensing something about the excesses of tech after a cursory listen to these WBDTS tracks, the detritus and pollution it produces. To quote my damn self, something in line with “...a cell tower with evergreen branches: / …a drone with seagull feathers.” ELUCID revived “a double portion of protection for [him] and [his] niggas,” explaining he’s “trying to only say what’s necessary.” By any means, sir.

Cavalier was welcomed back to the stage for “I Keep A Mirror in My Pocket,” another new joint with Preservation on production. We the audience felt, collectively, like we were in the belly of the beast—those shipping container walls (a real Season 2 of The Wire sensation)—as Cav chorused and signified about the Big Bad Wolf. A cautionary tale, indeed. I can see clearly how Cavalier fits within the Backwoodz cadre.

The content of the next number left no question of its title. “Niggardly (Blocked Call),” if I was asked to predict, will be the cynosure of the new album. (Yeah, you heard me right dog, I said cynosure.) Produced by August Fanon (who was in the place to be—a rare appearance from an elusive mastermind who would humbly demur if you called him such, I’m supposing), the song has an R0 = 15 infectious hook: “Admittedly niggardly, I won’t even give these niggas bad energy.” woods, what with his penchant for scales and measurements, boils everything “down to the last red cent.” How does he do it? Well, MY HEART PUMP KETAMINE, he yells. We find woods in one of his ruthless, no Vaseline moods: “I eat knowing I’m starving my enemies.” Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to spending time with your kids, and woods picked up where his verse from “As the Crow Flies” left off. He closed his eyes and rapped to the rafters and the sky:

I write when my baby’s asleep, I sit in the room, in the dark, I listen to him breathe, I walk him to school and then the park, Hold they little hands while we cross the street, I think about my brother who is long gone, And this is all he ever dreamed.

ELUCID and woods repeated admittedly niggardly back-and-forth at the end, delighted with the wordplay.

They kept riding the August Fanon beatwork like Thomas Sankara in the Renault 5 as the killer chords from “Smile Lines” crept in. The crowd response was screw-faced sneers and shouted lyrics. One youngblood knew the song front to back, beginning to end—ELUCID acknowledged him from the stage: “Peace to the homie out there—he knew every word, man.” I watched the dude beam from the compliment. Even after writing profusely—profusely (fuck Caltrops and his non-existent editor, here comes the predator…)—about woods and ELUCID, I still can’t memorize their lines. Chalk it up to some neurological incapacity that arrived in my 30s. I envy those who commit songs like “Smile Lines” and “Smith + Cross” to memory. My not-so-supple gray matter just can’t cut it anymore.

My expectations for We Buy Diabetic Test Strips were upended by the tracks they debuted. I’d speculated an abrasive noise event; a Sheet Metal Music for the new millennium we’ll never reach; a kind of Schoolly D “P.S.K.” FML swagger. There’s certainly elements of that, just not as much as I was anticipating. (And who knows what noise the as-yet-unheard tracks might bring.) I assumed the shared space with Soul Glo over the past several years, the screechings zapped through the receiver on the toll-free number, and their recent appearance on Shapednoise’s Absurd Matter would be an indication of the Shape of Rap to Come. Speaking of which, woods sludged through his verse from “Family” before DJ Haram’s scrapyard percussion ushered in “Trauma Mic.”

Haram was at the helm for the entirety of Armand Hammer’s set, and she reveled and felt every ounce of her own beat. The buzzsaw sounds were like Baraka’s description of Don Ayler’s trumpet: “long blasts…in profound black technicolor.” ELUCID’s traumatized mic draped over his shoulder for the opening anvil strikes. He needed his hands free to clap in rhythm. The gesture was reminiscent, again, of Baraka’s analysis of the saxophone held by Albert Ayler (the elder Ayler), “a howling spirit summoner tied around the ‘mad’ Black man’s neck.”

The “Trauma Mic” video had me thinking on thematics of refuse and rubbish—you best protect your dreck. I thought back to the garbology Aesop sifted through, where I saw Bakunin’s barricades in the city streets and revisited the actions of The Motherfuckers in the late ’60s—they stood in solidarity with striking sanitation workers and dumped garbage at the doorstep of Lincoln Center. Armand Hammer—outfitted as scrappers, pitching barrels and coiling skeins of copper wire—are of the same spirit. They propose a cultural exchange of garbage for garbage.

woods bodied “No Hard Feelings” and was joined by damn-near the entire crowd. Had it sounding like a tenant revolt as we all screamed, LIKE THEY STEALING! The Aethiopes track equals, if not outright overtakes, “Asylum” and “Remorseless” as most affecting in the past year’s blitz of performances.

ELUCID stood on the precipice, at the edge of the stage, as he rapped through “Barbarians.” He went swimming into the crowd with his free arm, astro-spiritually. The refrain of “Who the fuck are you?” evolved from the accusatory tone heard on Rome to an existential “Who the fuck am I?” ELUCID and woods bandied the question between them like two college kids in the dorms at 2AM, faded as fidduck. The “intelligent fist” of woods and the “mysticism” of ELUCID (to use an equation Baraka applied to Milford Graves and Sonny Murray) working together to produce a manic mix. They kept the marriage going through “Mangosteen” before turning to the heliocentric worlds they invented in collaboration with the Alchemist on Haram. “Black Sunlight” and “Falling Out the Sky” had me thinking of Baraka (again!): “It only takes two to start a group. If the two are maturely strong, and have a oneness, then the others will feel it and touch their own sound, voice, or whatever.”

ELUCID’s last solo number was “Spellling,” and by then he was spent but still perseverating in the dopest way possible. “This is a physical experience,” ELUCID said as the song began, asking the soundman to turn the volume up higher. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII been spelling, he spoketh [an ever ever elongated I and a shot-to-the-dome of “been”]. The I Told Bessie opener became what Baraka calls “an antiphonal rhythmic chant-poem-moan.” ELUCID’s voice was ragged by this point, a metallic scrape as he shouted about being “your momma’s favorite, since about ’88, ’89.” The down in “just got to heaven and I can’t sit down” was made malleable in how he twisted it around in his mouth. Split tongue heavy lifting.

He had nothing left when the alarming squeal whistle warp of “Stonefruit” started to play. But the audience assisted, screaming with him I REALLY CAME IN ON A CYCLONE as his voice gave out. woods jumped in early when it was his turn, which proved a moment of levity. To err is human, and woods—despite the adoration he’s been receiving—is endearingly human. That humanity is probably why so many of Armand Hammer’s fans have become zealous collectors, showing up at the venue with cardboard boxes full of vinyl, willing to wait patiently for woods and ELUCID to write their names in metallic Sharpies on these their prized possessions. “First Armand Hammer show in the states in a while,” woods said at one point. “Small flex,” ELUCID noted, chuckling. But they brought it home on Saturday. It was “As the Crow Flies” made manifest. woods brought all the Backwoodz family on stage at the conclusion of their set. The family atmosphere afforded by the 3PM start time was embellished by the sight of children on shoulders. It had the feel of a triumphant affair. It’s winning, it’s winning, it’s winning…

Peace to the conversations that were had with Alex Richter, Willie Green, Max Heath, and Sharif.

Photos credit: Rory Simms

AH setlist:

1. Landlines 2. Woke Up and Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die 3. [???] 4. I Keep A Mirror In My Pocket 5. Niggardly (Blocked Call) 6. Smile Lines 7. Family 8. Trauma Mic 9. No Hard Feelings 10. [???] 11. Barbarians 12. Mangosteen 13. Black Sunlight 14. Falling Out the Sky 15. Spellling 16. Stonefruit

#armand hammer #backwoodz studioz #public records #fatboi sharif #dj haram #cavalier #underground hip hop #brooklyn

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sssstarstruck · 1 year

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recs!

sirius black

he’s like that

dote on me

a good mum

a pretty boy and his pretty girl

sweeter than sweets

z-a

smart cookie

remus lupin

sweet weeping soul

flu

language of flowers

you are in love

lovers rock

charmed (series)

beyond rumours (series)

sweet memories

love letters to no one (series)

dance with me

bookshop girl (series)

heavy handed - band au

cherry tree

routine

james potter

lovesick

first and last

don’t miss you at all

playing pretend

what’s my name

shy beginnings

so perfect

three confessions

chaser at heart

kissy kissy ooh la la

invisible string

charlie weasley

some things are better kept secret

christmas eve

taming the dragon tamer

a family mystery uncovered

hearts on fire

bill weasley

willow

fred weasley

home for the holidays

my little hufflepuff

harry styles

thumper

ig blurb

ig blurb- chef!yn

ig blurb- since forever

ig blurb- the nanny

love me tomorrow

lunch time

whiskey

knight in shining armour

shy

two ghosts

winter flakes

just how fast the night changes (series)

the silk shirt

been there all along (series)

behind the door

hockey harry

regulus black

the better of two bad options

professor regulus black

steve harrington

i’ll put us back together at heart

can we always be this close

coach harrington

bucky barnes

they always find me

lost without you

uncle buck

six days

i like me better when i’m with you

nothing breaks like a heart

do not fall in love

operation get mom and bucky together

conrad fisher

no shame

isn’t the same without you

baby honey

ocean eyes

booty shorts and bikinis

tom holland

holland sister recs

rumours

angst!!!

imagines

holland sister recs

a missed chance

chris evans

your silence is the most violent

the evans’

playing with fire (series)

ig blurb

spiderman

not my spiderman (series)

tequila makes me sleepy

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vendettaparker · 1 year

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TAoST: Chapter Four—Would Things Be Easier If There Was a Right Way (Teaser)

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The day of the premiere used to be hectic, but you liked to think that you had it down pretty perfectly. Up by nine, coffee and breakfast, nail appointment at ten, home by noon, shower, hair at two, makeup at three, dress at four-thirty, pictures at five-thirty, and out the door and on the carpet by six-thirty. It seemed like the a lot but you loved it. You looked sitting in the chair or standing in the middle of the room while everyone worked around you. There was some strange peace to it.

“Good morning,” Tom smiled as you walked into the ensuite bathroom where he was shaving, “sleep good?”

You rubbed your eyes. “O kicks in her sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s why I suggested she sleep with you instead of me.” Tom laughed.

“You’re evil for that.”

You, Emily, and O were in one room, while Tom and Harry were in another. Both of the rooms were connected by a door, and with Harry taking a shower, Tom meandered over into your bathroom.

“Where’s Em?”

“She went out to get you a coffee and something to eat.”

“Avocado toast and an over easy egg?”

“That’s the order I gave her.”

You let out a content sigh. “You’re the best,” you smiled, leaning your head against Tom’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you cancel your nail appointment and go back to bed?” Tom suggested, wiping his face of with a towel and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, “it’s part of the process.”

You envied Tom a little bit for how easy his process was. He just had to get his hair tussled a bit, get maybe a pump or two of foundation and concealer, get his suit on, and bam; he was red carpet ready.

“At least find maybe an hour to squeeze in a nap,” Tom said.

“I’ll do my best,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Tom wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss. He lifted you onto the marble counter before cupping your jaw with his hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighed in between kisses.

You giggled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Tom kissed down your neck, tucking his hands under your sleep shirt to cup your breasts. “Tom,” you hummed, wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Fuck, I—”

“(Y/N)!” O called from the other side of the door, “I have to go potty!”

You pulled away from Tom and hopped off the counter, opening the door for the little girl. She waddled in and immediately rushed to the toilet.

“No, Tom!” She squealed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tom chuckled, “I’m leaving.”

You covered his eyes and walked him out the room. “Don’t worry, O, he didn’t see anything.” Octavia nodded and kicked her feet happily.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A/N: this chapter has lots of drama to come. sorry if it takes a while to come out! while you wait for it, please feel free to reread this series!

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✧tags & moots✧ PERM

@ptergwen @princessofguineapigs @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @hollandcrush @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @loveaffaire @angelmavmurdock @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeelin @slut-for-steve-rogers @kitkatt18-blog @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @prancerrparkerr @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue-blog @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya-blog @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @rqmanoff @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa-blog @freds-slut @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @spider-man-stiles-gubler @wildholland @marvelobsessedteen @lolooo22 @moniffazictress11 @sleepybesson @sweetpeterparker @bradtomlovesya @teenwishes08 @hogwartsmarvelmommy @dracoswhore007 @elishi03 @beth-gallagher22 @hunnybunimdun @badbatch-simp24 @raajali3 @vibezayn91 @heyyitsreign @iamsherloki-wholocked @itscaminow @blankspaceblankday @denkisclown @spideysloverera @minejungwoo @dirtytissuebox @princessnnylzays @lucypevensie111-blog @dottirose @tiaamberxx @wh0re4zaynmalik @luvwanda @cevans-winchester @wondergal2001 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @belovedholland @randomstufflol29 @t-lostinworlds @kaitieskidmore1 @milkiane @pandaxnienke @onceuponameli @ju1cyang3l @maximoffbarnesprotectionsquad @indouloureux @d22malfoys @chaoticevilbakugo @princessnnylzays @edgycatx @seolaseoul @evermoresilk @uwiuwi @meghanmhill1 @princessatoru @evanstanwhore @f-ergj @lovesanimals0000 @eichenhouseproperty @1-800-imagines @aslutformarauders @s-we-e-t-t-ea @queeniequinn @totheblood @liltimmyst @zendayassimp @lnmp89 @chxosunbound @bath1lda @gypsytraveler86-blog @madsttx @bitch616 @alicjaalaki @fishingirl12 @tom-hollands-wifey @mymultiveres @alina02 @lastwandastan @olsensnpm @hollandweather @hehehehannahthings @alexxavicry @tomspidertingle @serenityleah @shycowboyangel @thehuntresswolf

✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND

@hollandlover19 | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @lmaotshollandd @tomhollandlol @outshineallthestars @summer-paris-lights @skatazz @blueclouds666 @saigensauce @sherlockstrangewolf @notfeelingsogoofy @maybetwistedthoughts-blog

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland series #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst

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saltysideblog · 8 months

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❁❁ Daisy ❁❁

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

A self indulgent Nice Guys OC

Summary: Getting ready. Technically Part 3.

Part 1 Part 2 ❁ Part 4

A/N: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

The bathroom was cramped and the mirror was dirty, but it was the only one available in the cheap rental. Daisy adjusted her earrings and caught a glimpse of someone watching her.

An older man leaned against the doorframe, brown hair falling in loose curls on his forehead. She smiled at him in the reflection,

“What?”

He shrugged and smirked, “Nothin’. You look pretty.”

She chuckled, resting her hands against the sink, “Yeah?”

He took two steps and his arms were around her waist, head resting on her shoulder,

“Yeah,” he pointed at her reflection in the mirror, “you’re gonna kill it today.”

She rolled her eyes, but made no effort to push him away, “It’s a conference, not a competition.”

“For sure. You’re still gonna kill it though.”

He kissed her neck to punctuate his sentence.

“I will?”, she leaned into his embrace.

“Oh yeah…”

He kissed her neck again,

“Aaaand you’ll take lots of notes?”

She dropped her playful tone, “I will?”

“Yeah, c’mon. It’s just a few notes…”

She spun around, his hands still resting on her waist as she did so.

“Y’know sometimes, I think you’re just with me for the stories.”

He pouted,

“That’s not true…”, his hands fell to her hips, tugging her forwards, “I’m with you for the sex too.”

She smacked his chest, chuckling, “Fred!”

The boyish grin that illuminated his face was enough to light up the Vegas strip. He wiggled his eyebrows as he slowly closed the gap between them. She giggled and squealed as he suddenly kissed all over her face.

“I’m gonna be late!”

“Better kiss me goodbye then!”

He was relentless in his attacks, she barely had time to retaliate.

“Here!”, she grabbed his face, gently squishing his cheeks, planting a firm kiss to his lips, “Goodbye!”

He pretended to melt, falling to the floor dramatically. She shook her head at him,

“Is that from the kiss or the LA heat?”

“Both”, he sighed.

She stepped over him. He didn’t budge.

“The floor’s gross.”

“Hey, at least the tiles are nice and cool, you should try it.”

“Dad!”

Holly shook her father’s shoulder.

“Dad! Get up!”

Holland groaned, shifting on the bathroom floor,

“Five more minutes…”

The young girl scoffed,

“You’re gonna be late.”

She watched as her father curled in on himself, clutching the fancy bottle of whiskey closer to his chest,

“Late for what?”

She kicked her father’s shoe,

“The conference.”

“Conference?”

He slowly peeled himself from the cold tile,

“What conference?”

Her eyes went wide, “You’re kidding, you promised to take it seriously.”

As Holland sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes, his brain finally caught up,

“I am.”

Holly adjusted her backpack, “And you’re driving me to school.”

“I am?”

Before she coud even voice her disappointment, he held his hands up in surrender, “I am, I am!”

She sighed, “That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

Holland shrugged and shook his head, world spinning as he did so,

“Well, the tiles are really nice. It’s very refreshing. You should try it sometime.”

She managed a smile and a small chuckle,

“Maybe when we aren’t late.”

“Plus you get a free face tattoo.”

He gestured to the imprint left on his face. Holly laughed, exasperated, tugging on his sleeve,

“C’mon let’s goooo!”

Healy brushed his teeth and tore the first page off his word of the day calendar. He read aloud,

“Expeditiously.”

He spat in the sink, continuing, “Done with speed and efficiency.”

Wiping his mouth, he used it in a sentence,

“The investigation was carried out expeditiously.”

He thought of March and their last case. Sidetracked for hours, searching for his wallet. It made him chuckle.

He ran his mental checklist:

Fish

Keys

Jacket

Address

Address. He needed the address. After quickly glancing around, he found the flyer where he’d left it on the coffee table. A bright orange thing, Xeroxed to hell,

7th annual,

LA Private Dicks & Sleuthing Chicks,

networking event

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t go. Not a fan of the name, but he promised Holly.

He carefully folded the gawdy piece of paper and placed it in his pocket.

“Here we go…”

#the nice guys #the nice guys oc #daisy streets #and introducing #fred #holland march #jackson healy #holly march #the nice guys fic #self insert

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