#Tw: prison

[idontknowreallywhy]

Tormenting Scotty more? Me? Surely not.

So this was the first thing I read when I woke up this morning…

And ermm… Oops…

😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰

It was the beard that broke his heart.

Scott had three methods of tracking the time he’d been Here.

Absent the first couple of days or so where he’d been dragged from building to building… he’d always ended up Here at the end of the day. ‘Here’ being the 2x3m concrete box with a steel door on one side and a tiny grate to the outside, about 3m up on the other. That seemed precisely positioned to let in plenty of chilly breeze but very little light. Another couple of days passed before he realised it was definitely the same one… the bloody stain where his head had hit the wall as they’d slung him in one evening was there the next. To welcome him home.

He had always had a good memory for images and so he started out by creating a mind palace. He imagined his old bedroom at Gran Roca. Each day as the light started to trickle in, he added another object which didn’t belong but which gave him a moment of peace. Gordon’s stuffed shark on the pillow, Virgil’s painting overalls hung over the back of the chair, John’s telescope at the window, Alan’s old rocket teething toy he still clung to aged 7 propped up on the desk. Each morning he pictured it, listed and counted the objects and added one more.

But some days he was so hazy he worried he would forget something. Maybe Virgil’s easel had been there all along and he’d counted it twice. So on day ten he cast about for something outside his own head he could mark the time with.

Another defining feature of Here was that floor was particularly gritty compared to some of the other rooms/labs/holding pens. He’d cursed it many times as he’d stumbled through the door and taken more skin from limbs that didn’t have a lot to spare.

He could use that.

Sweeping an area clear in one corner, he made a tiny almost invisible pile of grit as the light entering the cell began to disappear each day. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen… on the Fifteenth day he swept them all into a bigger pile and started again. Sixteen, Seventeen… Eighteen, Nineteen…

On the twentieth day he suddenly panicked that he could roll over in a fitful sleep and brush it all away. Or the breeze could betray him in more ways than just chilling his bones. So he instituted another back up. For every 5th day he also made a mark on the back of the door where they’d never look. That same mark on the wall reminded him he did have one kind of ink in plentiful supply. Even on the rare occasions there was none fresh there were plenty of barely healed wounds he could reopen with a flick of a broken fingernail.

Twenty. Twenty Five, Thirty. Thirty Five. Forty.

On day 41 the first tendrils of doubt began to weave their way through. He’d expected a couple of weeks, maybe three or four… he’d been air support on two retrieval missions so far so he knew they took a bit to plan and resource. Maybe this was particularly tricky, so maybe it could be four before they came. Maybe five?

Initially he blamed his counting. Maybe he’d doubled up some days - maybe mistook a floodlight for Dawn, or a cloud passing over the sun for dusk. He needed some other more reliable method.

He sat in the corner and ran his hands through his unruly hair and matching beard and tried to make himself look respectable. And then his heart froze and sank into his gut where it thrashed painfully against his other organs. He’d never had much success with facial hair, it grew so slowly and patchily. He’d stopped shaving for charity one month and in 31 days it was still pretty threadbare fluff and he got rid of it with a sigh of relief as soon as the challenge was completed. This… this was A Beard.

On day 41… or maybe it was 51 or 61… he began to believe they might just… not... come.

Surely Ash and Val would raise hell, his whole squadron would. Their Group Captain wouldn’t let him rot.

And if not them… Dad… he’d raise hell and then do it himself if necessary. He’d imagined that gruff voice at the door so many times. Of course he hoped Dad wouldn’t have to because the thought he could be hurt was… unacceptable. But he would do something. Someone would launch a rescue soon.

Unless they thought there was no rescue to effect. He squeezed his eyes as he recalled attending the empty coffin funeral of a colleague he’d never known. The pomp and gravitas so hollow and…pointless. The eyes of the man’s family so dark with sleepless grief as they accepted the flag and tried to summarise a life in halting, pain-filled words to a crowd of uniformed people all praying they wouldn’t be next.

Had they… had they done that for him?

Had someone called it? Drawn a line?

Changed the M to a K?

Had his family stood in the front row and listened to a bugle and mourned him?

He could see their faces and it tore at his soul. He could picture Virgil’s devastated eyes, John’s pallor, Gordon’s tears, Allie’s tantrum at the absence of his big brother hugs and he gasped in horror.

He had to get to them and tell them it wasn’t true.

His bruised and battered body screamed at him as it collided with the steel door. He cursed it into silence and threw himself at the unyielding metal again and again and again…

[thegreatobsesso]

find the word tag!

Tagged by @space-writes, who, if you are into kinky queer shit, you have to check out. 🤌

my words: aloud, allowed, alone, and although

WIP-switchin'!!!

aloud // gay BDSM crime story

allowed // The Insuppressible Electra Ray / Electra POV

A useful skill, all the same - the ability to grab a thought by its coattails as it tried to sneak by and beat it down so thoroughly it’d reconsider ever showing its face in these parts.  These days, she wasn’t trying to hide her thoughts from God; she just aimed for efficiency, and dwelling on the past was pointless. So when they took Paulie away and put a new girl in her place, that was that. Outta sight, outta mind.  Well, Paulie wasn’t taken away, per se. Only moved to Murex Block after what must be decades of good behavior. Medium security, where she’d be allowed an extra hour of rec time per day and receive less pat-downs as she moved about.  Electra’d never see her again because Electra’d never leave Spindle Block, no matter how good her behavior was: not with her notoriety or the nature of her offense.  And so that was the shit, wasn’t it? Downing Bay, heaven and hell; born a sinner, die a sinner. If good behavior didn’t count for jack, why should she even try? 

alone // gay BDSM crime story

although // The Insuppressible Electra Ray / Electra POV

Spending a year as mental roommates with Bell had broken her of some bad habits. Like whenever I don’t deserve it surged up, and it met with an equal and opposite response: Stop agonizing over whether you deserve it. Just try again and do better next time. Like a shock collar that didn’t hurt. That felt nice, even, in a way she was just learning to trust. Inside Bell’s mind (a frankly mind-boggling labyrinth of moral quandaries and philosophical complexities, although he kept the shrubbery well-trimmed), there was no good-person bad-person split and no end point to the maze. Any human could, apparently, always try again and do better next time. This made a certain degree of optimistic sense, but did it also apply to the treacherous creeping seething thing Bell brought into the castle? Eve was technically a human.

--

Woo hoo, that was fun! I like stacking wip-bits side-by-side and reveling in how different these are in every way.

Tagging some friends: @revenantlore, @winterandwords, @foxboyclit, @andthebubbles and @pertinax--loculos with new words: inside, under, around and everywhere :)

[peppermintwhisp]

Stop portraying Jason’s parents as deadbeats. You’re perpetuating a harmful stereotype without even realizing it.

You don’t have to be a bad person to work for a criminal. You don’t have to be an abusive dad or a petty thug or an alcoholic. Good people, kind people can end up in prison.

You don’t have to be a neglectful mother to end up with a drug addiction. You didn’t choose your addiction over your kid if you die of an overdose.

Picture this. The Todd’s are a middle class, nuclear family living in the suburbs. Both parents are working and they are able to have a comfortable living and save for retirement. Then Catherine gets a cancer diagnosis. In 5 months, the cost of treatments completely destroyed their savings. Catherine loses her job and her health insurance. They have to sell their home and move to a smaller, cheaper apartment in Park Row. The costs of medicine is too high. They have to sell their car. Willis doesn’t have reliable transport to his job. He loses his job. They need money to put food on the table. The only work he can find that pays enough to support his family is working for Two-Face. They can’t afford to see the doctor anymore to get prescriptions for Catherine’s painkillers. The free clinic doctors refuse to give her opioids. She starts using street drugs. Throughout all this, they still try to protect their 9 year old son from the devastating turn their lives have taken. Catherine helps him study for his spelling tests and reads with him every night. She gives him her portion of dinner when his stomach won’t stop growling. Willis teaches Jason to swim on free swim days at the community pool and gives vague answers when Jason asks him what he did at work. They try to hide the bills and the credit card statements and the past due notices until after he falls asleep at night. One night Willis gets arrested. They can’t afford the apartment without his income and get evicted. Catherine and Jason stay at the shelters when they can. Then Catherine gets a dose laced with fentanyl and dies, leaving their 9 year old son to fend for himself on the streets.

Tldr: Being poor is not a moral failing. Just because Jason was homeless when Bruce found him doesn’t mean one or both his parents were shitty parents.

[bunny-is-cute]

Sneak Peek of Chapter 25 of “Tell Me True”

Please check the tags!

Lucifer never thought he’d say this, but he missed Hell. More specifically he missed the familiarity of his manor. Heaven had changed so much over the eons that he never truly took that in since the closest he’d ever gotten to Heaven was the embassy in the Pride Ring. Now as he was a prisoner, he could only watched from a high view of Heaven. Sure, the golden clouds remained the same, but buildings had changed and it felt so modern that it shook him to his core.

He looked down at himself. He was now in angelic garb, a long white gown with long sleeves. He looked at his hand and realized with a slight horror that he was still wearing his wedding ring — the one he once shared with Lilith.

But she was dead now.

And it wasn’t like they were together for a while. Seven years was when she left — it’s been much longer since they had been intimate with each other. Not since after Charlie was born. He always thought she no longer saw him as a man after he gave birth to Charlie. She had other lovers to fulfill her needs while he did nothing.

He pulled the ring off and for a moment thought he would explode, like pulling a grenade pin. He didn’t. He just held the ring in his fingers and saw how the golden band had lost its luster and now seemed dulled. He examined it for a moment until he saw the engraving on the inside.

ℰ𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈，ℒ𝒾𝓁𝓎❦

He’d forgotten that it was engraved. And seeing those words sparked a flame of anger. He clutched the ring and in a moment of rage he threw it out the window.

Lilith be damned!

He be damned!

Till Death do they part! Well now she was gone! Forever gone!

And in that moment, Lucifer felt truly alone.

He sunk to the ground, trying to contain his sorrow.

He leaned back against the wall, his heart ached. Only now that he had time to process everything did he realize he didn’t allow himself a moment of peace. Heaven was supposed to be peace in all its essence.

Tears fell from his eyes. He could cry alone. He’s had plenty of practice. He truly was the worse…wasn’t he? He wasn’t faithful to Lilith either and the evidence was in his body.

The baby was Alastor’s…not Lilith’s.

But had he really cheated? What’s one more sin on top of the biggest one he’d ever created? He placed his hands on his stomach, his bump only beginning to form.

He shut his eyes, letting his mind drift…and his mind went back to the day that was the start of this current predicament…

[fullpcgue]

@unitcd said: "It's so hard when it feels like my fault." John B to Kie

"This is not your fault." She says, her voice far too stern for a moment where she should probably be displaying compassion. She should be a kind, listening ear. She should be his shoulder to cry on if he needs it.

But that's a waste. Because she can't muster that right now. She's too pissed. Too disillusioned with the people of the Outer Banks to even give a shit. Not that was under any sort of enchantment by the justice system prior to this shit show, but it certainly hasn't helped.

She just hadn't counted on being seventeen and sitting across from her friend in a prison visitation room. But she sure as hell wasn't going to let him rot in here alone.

Her parents may be pissed about it, but they kicked her out so what does it even matter what they think at this point? She's doing what she knows is right. She's standing by someone who isn't guilty of the crime he's been charged with. And they'll never be able to convince her that that's wrong.

"This is not your fault." She reiterates, shaking her head as she taps in to some of her compassion from where it's been pushed far down into her heart. "Okay? Do you understand that?"

"This is not your fault. This is Ward's fault. And Rafe's fault." She says. Her brows pinch together as she reaches out to touch his hand, only to pull it back at the last second as the guard watching them clears his throat. "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't kill Peterkin. They did."

"You don't belong in here."

[joeybarnacles]

Absolute king John Galvan was wrongfully convicted of setting fire to an apartment building by throwing a lot cigarette into a pool of gasoline and while in prison he saw an episode of Mythbusters where they found it impossible to light a pool of gasoline on fire with a lot cigarette

[halforc-mercenary]

Emotional Baggage: Mar Mutthand bold whatever applies to your muse. italicize the things that only somewhat apply / are verse dependent. REPOST , DON’T REBLOG.

been cheated on | been bullied | had your heart broken | broken someone’s heart | told a horrible lie | been betrayed | been framed / set-up | stolen something of value | overdosed on drugs | been drunk | cheated | bullied | been publicly humiliated | punched someone in the face | been beaten up| broken a bone | been admitted to a hospital | put someone in the hospital | had a near - death experience* | been drugged | done drugs | smoked | been arrested | been homeless | been forced to commit a crime | died and came back to life | kissed someone you weren’t attracted to | bled severely | killed someone| been forced to kill someone | had an attempt on your life | made an attempt on your own life | lost someone | loved someone | watched a loved one die | failed to save / help a loved one | felt helpless| watched your world die / disappear | had your life’s work stolen / destroyed | gone without food for over three days | gone without sleep for over three days | been tortured / questioned | been shot| been stabbed| been poisoned | been held prisoner | been trapped | been buried alive | been held hostage | held someone hostage | been stuck in a different world / universe / time | been abused by someone who should have loved / appreciated / valued you | had a panic attack | had night terrors | been in a car accident | lost your job | lost a fight | had sex with a stranger | been divorced | been abandoned | passed out from pain | cried yourself to sleep | spent a whole day in bed | hurt yourself | taken your anger out on yourself | taken your anger out on someone you love | been used| been manipulated | felt used | manipulated someone else | had your memories / mind wiped / stolen or tampered with | been taken over by a hostile force | been terrified | played a cruel game on someone | been forced to smile | felt too many things at once | laughed when you felt like crying | been in denial | been denied | faced your demons

*When Mar was a very young child she was attacked by a rabid dog near her homevillage. She was bitten in her left forearm and the bone beneath was crushed. She did managed to kill the dog with her stoneknife and drag herself back to her homevillages earthmound. She spend the following year sick and bedridden and in this time she started to first have dreams. Mar has the (untrained and dormant) Second Face and her almost dying and the following sickness activated her very dormant ability of Farsight. When she is sleeping or in any other way not consciously awake, her mind hops in the heads of other beeings near her which allowes her to see through their eyes as a guest. In most cases this happens with cats or other animals, yet never other sentient beeings or dogs (sentient beeings for one because they probably would react to this kind of magic, and dogs, because Mar is utterly terrified of dogs. She however admires cats so he rmidn is for those very open). Mar expierences what that other-one is doing from their perspective and can not act on her own, which could maybe be changed with training. Yet Mar has no idea what she is doing, that what she is seeing is real or how to actively use that gift and she very much thinks she is going mad when she notices that she had seen something that she should/ could not have seen. But Mar thinks that she is a freak in any way possible, so it is not suprising for her that even her dreams are freaky. Which is also the reason why she would never share what she is expierincing with anyone. When Mar knows that she is safe and has not to sleep with one eye open, she usually knocks herself out with potions, so she would not have her "weird dreams".

Tagged By: The Void Tagging: @deepseawarlock @sparklymanacakes @wildname @thaneirstaer @blue-eyed-banshee @lighthouseborn @bruinescence @elkenbulwark

[eddiebillysteve]

cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au )) chapter twelve | find the rest here

a/n | @leticheecopae has released the first chapter of her companion fic and you can find it HERE. In it, Nancy finds herself framed and tossed into prison after doing a little investigating into Steve's arrest. Her cellies are Chrissy (the top dog of their prison and Billy's best friend from the outside), Robin and Vicki. IT IS SO GOOD AND THERE'S GNA BE CROSS OVERS AND REFERENCES AND JUST. I KEEP REREADING IT OVER AND OVER DFNPSFN. Find this chapter of cat and mouse on ao3 here !!

warnings | daddy kink, mention of suicide/child murder, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, steve being a gay panicked confused mess (this is a permanent tag), general prison talk, stuff like that !!

tag list | @whoringrove @darkandstormyslash @devotionsofmaryoliver @nowhereinthedenn @cherixsays - let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates or removed from the list !!

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

“I’ve got something for you. A little surprise, just because you’ve been so good for me,” Eddie could barely contain his grin as he looked at Steve from the doorway. He had something held behind his back, hidden from Steve’s view, and maneuvered himself to be able to shut the cell door while still keeping it hidden. 

“What?” Steve sat himself up. It had been nice having Billy gone - no one had hurt him, he didn’t live in fear, no one watched him go to the toilet. He’d gotten to know Eddie very well and had gotten to know Argyle decently well during work duty every day, too. The poor guy was a wreck without Jonathan around, so Steve liked distracting him by telling him about the most recent films and albums that had come out the last few years that he’d missed while being locked away.

Every time his eyes glanced towards Eddie, whether it was the laundry room, cafeteria, or during their outside time, he noticed he was always being watched. Not in an intimidating way, but more out of admiration. Eddie was smitten with him, much like he was smitten with Billy, but in a completely different dynamic. With Steve, he was the one in charge.

It made Steve feel really fucking good, too. He liked Eddie more and more as the days went on. 

Sometimes it reminded him of the beginning days with Nancy, when they both couldn’t stop sneaking glances at one another across the classroom. 

“You heard me. A present, just for you,” Eddie grinned so big. “Close your eyes.” Steve gave him a bit of a should I trust you? look, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not a bomb, baby. Relax. You’ll like it. Promise.”

Steve shut his eyes after another second of hesitation. 

“Now, hold out your hands. But keep your eyes closed,” Eddie instructed as he crept forward. When Steve did as he was told, he counted down from three before putting the stuffed little thing into his palms.

Every now and then in the commissary, they received little stuffed bears that the inmates could buy. They were intended for the men to use as gifts for their children that visited, or for them to send out along with cards and drawings for special occasions on the outside, but there weren’t any rules against the men keeping them for themselves – or giving them to other inmates.

A stuffed animal was the last thing Steve was expecting to first feel and then see. It was a classic brown bear and he blinked slowly at it. He had absolutely no idea how Eddie had gotten his hands on a bear, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

It got really lonely in the cell during the night with Billy gone and Eddie locked in his own. 

“I… What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, clearly trying to contain his excitement and grin as Steve processed what it was he’d been given. “To keep you company when Billy and I aren’t around. He looks like he’d make a rather good snuggle buddy to me.”

“Yes– yes, of course I like it,” Steve finally said, touching his fingers over the bear . It was basic, no accessories or anything, but the little thing didn’t need it. The material was soft and gentle against his fingers, and it had an embroidered brown nose and two tiny black eyes. It was the type of toy he would have longed for as a child.

They were unsightly, his mother had said. Children’s toys strewn all over the place didn’t look good in their home when they often had their work friends coming in and out. The very select few he’d gotten from his grandparents were solely to be kept on a shelf in his closet when they weren’t in use – he treasured them, still had every single one tucked away for safekeeping. 

His bedroom had been very dull and boring until he’d hit his teens and his parents had given it a makeover and covered the basic beige with plaid wallpaper. He’d never been allowed to have any sort of mess, not when his parents were home, at least. When he was older, allowed to stay home alone for weeks at a time, he’d gotten a little messier, a little clumsier, but he always made sure everything was perfection by the time they returned from Italy, or Paris, or London, or wherever it was they’d jetted off to for meetings and business affairs. 

A lot of the time, for as long as he could remember, he wondered why they’d even had a child. As soon as he discovered what sex was, what condoms were, he’d come to the realization that their condom must have broken. He’d been a mistake, there wasn’t even a slight doubt in him about it. 

“You didn’t get gifts a lot growing up, did you?” Eddie asked after a few moments of silence, tipping his head to the side. His big smile had faded into warm curiosity. “You don’t know how to process people giving you things just because.”

“I just don’t really understand, I guess,” He finally said. It should have been so easy for him to accept it with a thank you and give Eddie a hug, but his brain just… couldn’t. It didn’t work like that for him.

“There isn’t too much to understand, sweetheart,” Eddie moved forward, reaching out to grab his upper arms and rub them gently. “I saw it, it made me think of you, so I bought it. I don’t want you to be lonely. I used to have a stuffed animal when I was a kid, it went with me to all the foster homes and made me feel better. I just thought it might make you feel better, too. That’s all. Don’t overthink it. You don’t have to do anything for it, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s just a gift from me to you. Okay?” His hands trailed up, over his shoulders, up his neck, until he was firmly holding Steve’s face in his big palms. “Can I kiss you?”

He could feel Steve’s cheeks warm under his touch, but Steve stared at him with the biggest doe eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

“Steve?”

It took him a second to understand what he was being asked, and even though he could have, he didn’t feel like saying no. He wanted a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss he used to get from Nancy and all the other girls in high school. The kind of kiss that didn’t belong in prison.

And it was exactly what Eddie gave him. 

The kiss wasn’t the same as the other ones where Eddie fought for control to prove he could be in charge, because he already knew he was. He had split ownership over Steve with Billy now, Billy just didn’t exactly know it yet. 

Eddie had been avoiding thinking about it. He didn’t want Billy to lose his mind the second he got out and found Steve cowering under Munson for protection. He wanted to swing it in a way that Billy could feel like he was even more in control, not like he was losing it.

“Thank you,” Steve finally murmured when Eddie pulled away, looking at him through his lashes.

Eddie grinned, rubbing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, underneath his eyes. “Thank you, what?” He really didn’t mind correcting him – he actually sort of loved having to do it. It always made Steve so shy. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” He mumbled, tipping himself forward to rest his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. There was a hand in his hair, massaging his scalp, another reaching around him to rub up and down his back. 

“You’re very welcome. Good boy,” Eddie murmured against his hair. “ My good boy.” 

***

The second the infection had cleared up, Billy demanded he be allowed back to his cell. It was only agreed upon when he promised not to work for a week, to stay in his cell to rest, and to take it easy at all other times.

“No sex, Mr. Hargrove, unless you want to be right back here with torn stitches. Do you understand me? Even thrusting can do it. You’ve got to give it another week and a half, at least.”

He had grumbled at the terms, like he was a child being told off, but he reluctantly agreed because the nurse hadn’t explicitly said he couldn’t get off, couldn’t get blown. She’d just said he couldn’t have too much movement. If he stayed still and had someone else do the work, it would have been fine. 

It had to be fine, because it was pent up in him by now and he needed a release – and to see if Eddie had taught Steve any pointers during his time away. Eddie had kept him in the loop somewhat, had told him he’d gotten Steve a teddy bear after hiding Billy’s had given him the idea, and that they’d gotten fairly close. Billy was eager to see if they’d gotten too close, but he knew there was no way Eddie had been stupid enough to have taken Steve’s virginity. 

They released him on a Saturday morning, a time and day specifically chosen because Creel had the weekend off and he could have two full days to rest in peace and quiet without having to feel the anxiety that he would come and fetch him at any given moment.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see when he reached his cell – a walk that took triple the amount of time it normally would have because of the pain that came with every step and the exhaustion he felt – but it wasn’t Steve curled up in Eddie’s arms on the bottom bunk, sunk against his chest with a little brown bear practically dancing on his own as he sung a little song, but it came to a stop when they realized the door had opened and Billy had made himself known.

“Holy shit,” Eddie bursted out, gently untangling himself from Steve to get up and throw himself around Billy in a tight hug. “About time. Jesus Christ, man. It’s been fucking forever.”

Billy wrapped one arm around Eddie’s waist, the other tangling in his curls. “Definitely feels like it,” He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his head. 

He was in a good mood, or an okay one at the very least. Eddie hadn’t expected it and the relief that washed over him was heavenly. 

If he had been in Billy’s situation, trapped in the infirmary for a week because of a psychopath disguised as a guard, he thought he would have been broken. Creel would have snapped his– or Steve’s– psyche like a twig, just like he had Jonathan’s, but Billy was strong. Stronger than most. He knew how to protect himself and how to bounce back. He’d been doing it since he was seven years old.

“What did I walk in on?” Billy asked then, pulling Eddie off of him so he could duck down and look into the bottom bunk where Steve had stayed. “Miss me, Princess?”

“Steve was just explaining a movie to me. Came out a few months ago. Really popular, he said,” Eddie cut in so Steve didn’t feel like he had to answer. 

“Oh yeah? Well, don’t stop on my account. I’ve been locked up a hell of a lot longer than Eds, I want to hear all the new movies,” Billy gave a lazy little smile before gesturing for Eddie to crawl back in on the bottom bunk. He didn’t hesitate to, climbing over Steve to smush between him and the inside wall before Billy took the spot on Steve’s other side at the edge of the bed. The three of them were packed together on the tiny little bunk, Billy rather conveniently pressing his crotch against Steve’s hip, but he didn’t try anything. At least not yet. “Go on. What film were you talking about, anyway?”

“Ghostbusters,” Steve mumbled, very carefully lifting the bear up from where it’d been trapped in between him and Eddie to put it back on his chest. 

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that one. Was this guy acting it out for us?” Billy propped his head up on his elbow and looked at the bear, free hand slipping around Steve’s waist. He slid it beneath his shirt, wanting to touch the skin there, and Steve didn’t protest.

“Well, sort of, but–” Steve mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. The hand gliding across his belly was gentle, soft. It felt good, like Eddie’s touch. “It’s stupid.”

“Says who?” Billy looked down at him. Steve couldn’t believe how soft Hargrove looked; there wasn’t any furocity in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating or frightening and if anything he looked tired. “Because I don’t think it’s stupid. That should be the only thing that matters. You were singing something. Sing it again.”

Steve hesitated, turning his head to look at Eddie for a mix of both encouragement and permission. “Go for it,” He whispered to Steve. “No one’s going to make fun of you. You’ll get a sweet if you do it.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed as the words hit his ears, but not out of anger. He was simply perplexed. He knew Eddie had taken over looking after Steve while he’d been away, but he hadn’t anticipated him getting so far with it. Steve was looking to him for permission, for guidance, the same way Eddie had looked to Billy for so long – and still did.

After another moment of hesitation, Steve slipped back to what he was doing. He put on a little performance, singing the theme song that was the same as the title.

It made Billy smile.

***

“Harrington!” 

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when his name was called from down the hall. Billy immediately pushed him into Eddie’s arms, maybe a little too hard, not letting him leave the cell before going out on his own. Whoever wanted to speak to Steve had to go through him.

It wasn’t another inmate, though, instead one of the guards. “Harrington’s in here. What is it?” Billy yelled out, half out through the cell door and half in. 

“Mail.”

Billy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he glanced back at the men in his cell before taking the short walk down the cell block. He was playing a dangerous game by moving around as much as he had been – he’d been to the showers, too, and to the cafeteria to get hot water for noodles – but Argyle had given him strong painkillers and the pain had trickled away until he felt numb all over. Whatever they were, they were much better than the shitty ibuprofen Nurse Betty was providing him with every day.

It was an envelope, shaped like a card, and Billy plucked it from the guard’s hand. It wasn’t allowed, inmates collecting mail for one another, but anyone with eyes could see that Steve belonged to Billy now – including the guards.

On his way back to the cell, he tore it open and pulled out a birthday card. It made his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“Hey,” Steve blinked when he saw Billy with the letter already open. “You can’t just–”

“He can. And he does. He reads all of my mail, too,” Eddie murmured to Steve to try to shush him without actually saying the words. 

“Just checking to make sure it’s alright for you, Stevie,” Billy glanced over to a fairly pouty looking Steve. “Who’s Dustin?”

“One of my kids. I want to see,” Steve tried to reach for the card, but Eddie grabbed and held his hand back. He would get to see it as soon as Billy decided he was finished with it. “I look after him, drive him to and from school, stuff like that. He’s thirteen. He’s friends with Nancy’s little brother. Met him through her.”

It hadn’t been bizarre for Nancy to pull him along to babysit her brother. Steve hadn’t gotten close with him, though, not like he had Dustin – Mike had always been standoffish, quiet. Nancy used to say it was because he was mourning.

“Holy shit,” Steve blurted out of the blue, and both Eddie and Billy looked at him. “The kids. Dustin, Nancy’s brother. They were friends with Will. Jonathan’s brother, the one that was murdered. We didn’t get together until he’d already passed on but she used to say Mike was so withdrawn because he was mourning. Will was his best friend.”

Billy plucked out something from the card, a polaroid, and held it up.

It was a picture of the three kids– Dustin, Mike, and Lucas– each holding balloons and making dumb, silly faces. Steve immediately reached out to take it, bringing it close to his face to look them over.

He’d been thinking he never would have heard from the little shits again. There was no way their parents would have let them stay in contact with a criminal – as far as Steve knew, they’d never written to Jonathan. They never even spoke about him, really. Never Will, either. He’d never had to bring them to buy a card, or to the post office. He had no idea who Jonathan even was before entering prison.

“You didn’t tell us it’s your birthday,” Billy handed the card over after another second. He’d send Eddie to grab Jon, who’d only been off of watch for a few days, and Argyle after they’d heard his explanation. 

“I don’t celebrate it,” Steve muttered, eyes scanning over the card. Each boy had written something, though Mike and Lucas’ were short. Dustin’s message covered most of the card and it made him laugh out loud. 

Of course Dustin would go on and on about how he was a badass and how they weren’t getting bullied in school anymore because all they had to say was that they knew someone in prison that would beat their ass once they got out. 

He was glad they were taking it light heartedly. 

“What do you mean, you don’t celebrate it?” Eddie asked, very gently using his finger to tip Steve’s chin up so his eyes were on him instead of the page. 

“I haven’t really ever celebrated my birthday. My parents didn’t like birthday parties when I was a kid and they were never really around when I got older. So I just… didn’t. It’s just like every other day to me,” Steve revealed to the two of them, using all of his might to keep his eyes from dropping back down to the picture. He had no idea how the three children had even known how to write to a prisoner and he wondered, for a moment, if it was Nancy.

She may have told them he was locked away, or may have explained to them how they could write to him, but her name wasn’t anywhere on the card – not that he was expecting it.

“Well, Stevie, that’s not how birthdays are in prison,” Billy tossed the envelope onto the bottom bunk so Steve could use the return address on it. “Just because you may not have celebrated it before doesn’t mean we aren’t now.”

***

Jonathan couldn’t believe the photograph when he got to see it. The boys looked so grown up since he’d last seen their faces; he hadn’t seen them in a long time, not since Will had originally gone missing. Their parents and siblings had all helped with the search, the boys had zipped around on their bikes, determined to be the ones to find their friend.

Mike Wheeler had tried especially hard. He was out and searching from daylight to dark. Will had been his best friend since kindergarten, Jon had looked after him nearly as much as he had his own little brother. And then it was all gone the day they’d found Will’s body.

He’d lost his brother, the boys who were like his other brothers, his life, his freedom, his relationship with his Mom. Even if Joyce didn’t believe he’d done it, she never looked at him the same after he’d been arrested. The one time he’d asked her about it, she said it was because he looked too much like Will, but he could always tell when she was lying. He just knew there was a teeny tiny part of her that thought he was capable of doing something so heinous, the rarely seen part of him that had his father’s temper. 

“Wow,” He finally murmured after staring at it a solid ten minutes in silence. “I can’t believe it. Mike’s so grown up. How do you know them again?”

“Mike is my ex’s brother,” Steve sat beside him quietly, so close their knees were touching. “I’d help her look after them and Dustin got really attached to me. He’s family. I spend a lot of time with him and his Mom.”

“So you were with Nancy Wheeler.” Jonathan got the story straight. 

“Right. We didn’t meet until after everything happened, though. I never knew your brother,” His voice dropped lower and he could feel Jonathan cringe down.

Maybe it was too soon. He’d only just gotten off of watch a few days prior. 

“She’s a nice girl. Really smart. Used to always stay and help clean up after Will’s birthday parties when they were little,” Jon smiled for a moment, but then it dropped. “That was the most time I spent with her. I wonder if she believes I did it.”

The pain in his voice throughout the last sentence left Steve’s heart torn to shreds. 

“No. She doesn’t,” Steve reached out and took the picture from his hand to be able to hold it instead. “We talked about it, what happened. Mike was always so distraught, always acted like he hated me. When I asked why, she told me what happened. Said he was mourning. She doesn’t think you did it, man. Mike doesn’t either.”

But he didn’t know why Mike had never written to Jonathan. Chances were it was because their parents believed it, though, and wanted their son to stay far away from the Byers despite their history. 

Jon nodded his head, clearly not convinced by the words. “Thank you for showing me. I really miss them.”

“You’ll get to talk to them again soon,” Steve murmured. “I’ll tell them I’m in here with you and they’ll all be writing right away, you’ll see.”

“I hope so, Steve.”

***

“So you get off on being in charge now, huh? On being Daddy instead of my little baby bitch?” 

With Steve in the cell with Jonathan and Argyle, Billy had yanked Eddie outside of it to have a word with him about what had happened while he was away. 

Eddie’s hands were pinned beside his head, Billy so close their fronts were touching. He forced one of his legs in between Munson’s, nudging them apart. If there weren’t any painkillers flushing through his body, the stance he had probably would have been painful. There would have been strain on the bruises covering his body and a little bit of strain to the stitches near his hole, but he admittedly forgot about it.

It was easy to forget when the pills were strong and gave him a soft buzz of a high. Not only did it take away his pain, but it made him feel good, too.

He couldn’t have cared less about who saw them. The guards would turn a blind eye, especially after knowing one of their own had gone a little too far with him. He would have some leeway for a week or two, could milk the guilt they felt to use to his own advantage. 

“You wanna take over and have Stevie all to yourself?” Billy leaned in so his mouth was at Eddie’s ear. His tongue snuck out to tease the shell of it, breath hot against Eddie’s skin. “Do I need to remind both of you who really is in charge here?” 

“No,” Eddie immediately shook his head, squirming a bit though he didn’t try to break free. He knew this reaction had been coming and had been building up inside of Hargrove while he played nice with the two of them. It was inevitable, he had been given time to come up with what he wanted to say, yet his mind still felt blank.

“No?” Billy pulled back to look at him with raised eyebrows. 

Shit . 

“No, Daddy,” Eddie corrected himself, but he knew it was too late. He’d already fucked up. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Billy scoffed before letting him go. 

The only outcome that would have been worse than a painful punishment would have been being iced out again. If it wasn’t for Creel’s playtime, Eddie wasn’t even sure they’d have been on talking terms just yet. Billy would have forced him to grovel and beg for scraps of attention for too long to teach him a lesson.

“I like him. A lot. But I’ve just been trying to train him for you,” Eddie blurted, reaching out to grab onto Hargrove’s shirt to keep him from backing away. “Just listen, okay? He’s scared of you. Really scared. I’ve just been trying to make his transition easier. You’re not exactly the softest dominant to have for someone that has only had submissive girlfriends and you fucking branded him, Bills. He’s terrified to even breathe around you in the wrong way. I just thought we could work together on this. Make him into a really good pet for you. You do the rough stuff and I’ll be there to comfort him after. He’s fragile, he needs it. He’s not like me. You’re not going to be able to get him to turn into someone who likes pain. You have to treat him like Argyle treats Jonathan, and you know you’re not always into being real soft.”

Billy narrowed his eyes, but he listened to every last word. There were moments when he could be soft, but he was afraid of being vulnerable. It was when he was vulnerable that he was taken advantage of and hurt and he’d learned to shut that side far away. Providing gentle aftercare wasn’t his thing, not unless it served him some sort of purpose, lulled his pet further into his grasp.

“Keep talking,” he finally said, waiting for Eddie to continue.

“Think about how good you’d look to the other inmates if you let me look after him a bit. You’d be in control of another Daddy , you’d own someone else that’s in charge. That’s a whole other level of control, isn’t it? It’d make every other top in here realize they still bow down to you just like I do. Might stop some of them from thinking they can rise up against you.” He was trying hard to sound convincing, desperate to make Billy be okay with him caring for Steve, too. They’d made progress already — Steve looked to him for encouragement and confirmation that what he was doing was okay. “I can build him up while you break him down. Help you make him into a doting pet. And then you still have me to do all your extreme stuff on.” 

Billy did like the idea of owning someone who owned someone else, but he wasn’t about to give Stevie up. “I’ll think about it. Everyone already knows you as my pet, Eds. They’ll think I’m losing my touch.” 

“Then they don’t have to know. It’ll just be in private,” Eddie didn’t realize how much his voice had slowly shifted into a plea, but Billy did. And it had him even more intrigued than he already had been. 

After another second of looking Eddie over, mentally chewing over his words, Billy grabbed his wrist and yanked him back into the cell. 

“Out. All three of you. Now.” It wasn’t posed as a question, and Argyle raised his eyebrows a little. “Just want a second with Eds, Argyle. I’ll come get Stevie from you when I’m done here.” 

“All good, amigo. C’mon, boys,” Argyle nodded towards the door and Jonathan was up quickly, but Steve was a little more hesitant. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Go on. You’re safe with Argyle. I’m sure Jonathan has some stuff in their cell he’d love to show you,” Eddie gave Steve a smile and a nod of encouragement. “We won’t be long.” 

“Okay,” Steve nodded before his eyes went to Billy. It wasn’t until he nodded in return that Steve actually left. 

Billy shut the door behind them, locking the two of them in. “You really like him?” 

A wave of nervousness hit Eddie then; he wasn’t sure if he was about to be fucked, or beaten, or shouted at — or kissed, or held. He couldn’t gauge Billy’s mood and it was scaring him a bit. 

“Well, yeah. But in a different way than I like you,” Eddie’s voice was quiet and he took a step back when Billy stepped forward. 

“And why is that?” 

Hargrove’s voice was softer than Eddie expected, like he was actually trying to communicate rather than explode with anger. 

“Because he’s sweet. And he’s gentle, and he’s scared, and he’s naive. He’s also a fucking goofball that’s actually hilarious if you get him in the right mood,” Eddie murmured, and this time when Billy stepped forward, Eds didn’t take a step back. “When I tell him he’s a good boy his eyes light up like he’s come back to life and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. His heart is the biggest heart I’ve ever known and he just wants to be loved, Bills. And he wants to love. He wants a family. Just like me and you. I can give him that. We can give him that.”

Billy was close enough to reach a hand up to cup Eddie’s chin as he spoke, his thumb rubbing over his jaw. 

“I’m not taking him away. He’s yours. I’m yours. I just want to care for him with you,” Eddie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please, Bills. I haven’t asked for anything in so long. I’ve done everything you’ve ever said. Please .” 

There was a long moment of silence before Billy was pulling Eddie in for a kiss by the chin. “Alright,” he mumbled against his mouth. “But I’m Daddy. You call me Daddy, Stevie calls me Daddy. You have to be called something else.” 

“Really?” Eddie pulled back enough to look at him and make sure he was being serious. When Billy nodded, he crashed their mouths together again. “Thank you, Daddy. I owe you one.” 

“You always owe me one, baby. Always.”

[mhatterl0l]

Dear Gotham Citizens.

Arkham asylum is not, by any means, the wonderland you portray it to be. It is a dark, cold, unforgiving place, which lets in the worst and keeps in the bad. With no one to help you when you are sad.

It isn’t a blessing, it isn’t a safe house, it only makes our un-sane brains worse.

The Arkham asylum you know is not real!

A blessing? It’s only a curse!

We waste all our days locked in prison cells

As men in suits bang on their doors

And if that’s not enough we wear prison clothes

And are constantly scrubbing the floors.

“But it isn’t a hell: it’s a paradise!

It’s a chance for you to be something more!”

Well if that is not hell then I promise you

You won’t like what your hell has in store.

[akastartatthebeginning]

🍹 for a drunk text to a certain blonde who no longer has a phone cause she's in prison...

(⟶ trish): you are such an asshole. (⟶ trish): you cant even get this message. because youre in prison. where i put you. im drunk but im not that goddamn drunk. (⟶ trish): i didnt want to. i really goddamn didnt (⟶ trish): i didnt want to have to do this without you. you know i didnt. (⟶ trish): its hard. missing you. i miss you and its your fault i miss you, not mine for once. but im the one who still feels guilty. (⟶ trish): people do bad shit and if you avoid getting involved in the first place, it doesnt matter. that worked for me. that always worked for me except with you. because you were my sister. you were the reason i went out to try and be a goddamn hero. you were the reason i kept breathing even after it all fell to shit. you were the one i ran to after i got away from him, the one who put the shattered pieces of my psyche back together again. you were the only person i gave a shit about for a long goddamn time. i still give a shit about you. and you tried to kill me (⟶ trish): i dont know how to move on. not from this. (⟶ trish): im getting another bottle

[ERROR: MESSAGE NOT SENT] [ERROR: MESSAGE NOT SENT] [ERROR: MESSAGE NOT SENT] [ERROR: MESSAGE NOT SENT] [ERROR: MESSAGE NOT SENT]

[senvurii]

And scene!

[grimmusings]

i’m not scared, not of you. (peter @ whoever)

Answered here! 💜

[thegreatobsesso]

OC in fifteen

Thank you @winterandwords for this glorious tag... I had a great time browsing for Callie dialogue!!!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

... and I mean, of course I chose Callie for this, but it was really interesting because out of my four POV characters, her dialogue is the farthest away from what's actually going through her head. So it's actually wild to strip away the internal monologue and pull her words alone.

Trigger warnings for swears, visceral vulgarity, blatant insensitivity, suicide mention, and, you know, murder.

1

“What? You don’t think I’m cool enough to have my own cult? They dyed their hair red and everything, swear to God.” 

2

“That’s the truth. The simple, obvious thing you’re just gagging to hear.”

3

“You have to forgive me, your honor, it’s been a tiring couple days. But I totally did it, hundred percent, guilty of murder in the first degree.”

4

“Well, obviously you’ve never fucked a telepath.” 

5

“It’s suicide-resistant - that means there’s nowhere to attach a rope to hang yourself. Though if you ask me, if you're creative enough to hang yourself on a toilet, hats off."

6

“Oh. Of course, I’ll hitch up my safari boots and get right on that. Shit, Anka, we’re in supermax, if you haven’t noticed."

7

“Eat a metric ton of shit, you fucking sex predator.” 

8

“At least I’m fun. And mysterious. And hot as hell.”

9

“Ahh, well, that changes everything, Bennett - she fuckin’ pinky swears.” 

10

"Sorry. For, for kissing you, and pushing you off the roof. I didn’t mean to- to-” 

11

“My problem? My problem is that you get off on helping, and fixing, and I don’t wanna be your fodder while you stroke your big, throbbing savior complex, that's my problem."

12

“You’re sweet. That woman is a snake in the grass, and God help anybody who steps too close.” 

13

“You don’t know. You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like to be this way.” 

14

“You know, I think I liked you better catatonic.” 

15

“I used to just wonder what was wrong with me. And I mean, there’s a lot. There really is. But now, I wonder what’s wrong with other people more.” 

--

That's my girl. 🍒

Tagging @ashen-crest, @sleepyowlwrites, @oh-no-another-idea and @magicmoon65 - plus, I mean, literally anyone else who wants to jump on. Hell, I might do this with my other OCs for funsies. I loved this.

[xghostspider]

"i’m not scared, not of you."

@nctafraid

Gwen had been living down her reputation on her own Earth ever since she blew her secret cover and went to prison for the death of her world's Peter Parker-- not strictly her fault, since he'd been going super villain at the time, but still something she carried around a lot of guilt for.

Using this Peter's Earth as her vacation home was becoming something of a habit when she needed the break from everyone knowing that Gwen Stacy was Ghost Spider. It meant that all her mistakes were headlined under both names, no escaping from them.

"Well, that makes one of us." Gwen gave a weak smile, her legs kicking back and forth over the edge of the tall building she was perched on. High places always brought her comfort. Fewer threats up there, and from a distance, the city always looked a little nicer.

[intersectionalpraxis]

Israel went to Jenin today, in the West Bank, and kidnapped this 7 year old girl from her family. They do these things often but we rarely catch them on film [@/Carl0s_Vela on X.]:

[sayruq]

TW: Rape