#sightetsound

Look what the lovely @sightetsound made of my fanfic!

It's absolutely gorgeous! I love the clean lines and the shiny silver, AND THE FEEL OF IT. IT FEELS SO GOOD IN MY HAND. Wow I could brain someone with this.

I won't. I would never do that to this lovely book. but I could

I swear, I am slowly going to accumulate an entire bookshelf of hard copies of Cornstalk Fiddle. It will be the one bookshelf none of my visitors can ever ask about, but I will take immense private delight in it and then hopefully someone will end up with a weird old book bought secondhand in Chicago, and no context for it other than that.

This particular copy is the kind gift of @sightetsound! I tried to capture the gleaming seam in the marbled paper, because I think it’s my favorite detail. Especially because it stands out so brightly against the cool tones of the cover---and isn’t that appropriate for a story about the blues, and that fiddle of gold?

I also love that the cigarette gets used as a paragraph/scene break here. As a symbol, it’s not quite as blatant as the whiskey or the golden fiddle itself---but I loved the idea of the gold-tipped cigarettes, in the gold case, being offered out to Johnny like a scene from an old movie. A very genteel touch, for the gentleman devil.

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

the pool has long since emptied out. it’s dark out at this point, a clear night where every star twinkling in the sky is visible. steve reclines on one of the pool loungers, unlit joint hanging between his lips.

he hears the door to the employee locker room squeak. sits up, propping himself up on his hands. billy is still damp from his shower and his skin glistens where the streetlights catch him.

“you got a present for me, harrington?”

steve has the joint lit before billy plops down on the chair next to him, closer to the end. he holds it out to him, watching closely as billy takes his first hit.

“how was work?” steve asks after a moment. billy shrugs, taking another smaller hit before passing the joint back over to him.

“nothin’ special. why, you miss me?”

i always miss you when you’re not around is what steve wants to say. he doesn’t. it rests at the tip of his tongue but he bites it back.

instead, he snorts and says, “i’ve been weeping inside all day because of your absence. totally crippled with loneliness. thought i’d keel over and die in the middle of scooping ice cream.”

“we wouldn’t want that,” billy tells him with a faux-gasp. “the children would die in the streets without steve harrington around to scoop them ice cream.”

steve huffs out a laugh, putting the joint up to his lips. closes his eyes and focuses on his inhale. billy stays quiet next to him. when he opens his eyes, he finds billy staring back. steve falters for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.

then, billy plucks the joint from in between steve’s fingers, puffing on it quietly.

“anyone interesting come by today?” steve finally asks, if only to break the extensive silence. it isn’t uncomfortable, but he likes listening to billy’s voice when he’s stoned.

“just the usual, same old same old,” billy says. he sounds pleasantly buzzed. “i think it went out.”

steve takes the joint, relighting it easily. watches the smoke curl up into the night sky as he exhales. “mrs. wheeler still coming by?”

“every day.”

“you’d think she’d get the memo,” steve mutters, rolling his eyes. “talk about not being able to read a room.”

“i offered to take her to a motel not even three days ago, harrington,” billy reminds him, shaking his head with a grin.

“yeah, only because tommy h. called you a queer at carol’s party last weekend,” steve argues.

“those two events were not connected.”

“whatever you say, hargrove. for what it’s worth, i’m sorry she won’t leave you alone. ‘s fucked up,” steve says, huffing out a sigh.

“could be worse,” billy shrugs again. he’s either just feeling really casual, or trying very hard to maintain nonchalance.

steve takes a long hit, exhaling fully before he responds. “how so?”

“could be slinging ice cream, getting rejected by every girl that walks in,” billy says. he has that insufferable grin, the one that makes steve want to either smack him or kiss him breathless.

instead, steve groans, shoving the joint over to billy. laughs, then says, “fuck you, man.”

“i only speak the truth.”

they pass the joint back and forth for a few more moments before it’s done. steve snuffs it out on the pavement, then lights the filter on fire. lets it burn to ash before scuffing at it with his shoe. until there’s no evidence left, blended perfectly into the concrete with the rubber sole of his converse.

billy stretches like a cat, back arching and everything, before he inches closer up to where steve is sitting, until he’s at eye-level with him. he then flops onto his back, looking up at the stars.

steve can feels billy’s shoulder pressed against his own, sturdy and warm. it feels both pleasant and like a brand, scorching him at each point of contact.

any remaining tension from the day has drained from each of them. leaving them both relaxed and comfortable, and pleasantly high.

“and how was your day, harrington?”

steve looks over at him. billy’s face is so close, close enough that steve can feel his breath across his cheeks. his gaze is fixed on billy’s mouth. he has to remind himself to fixate on something safer, like his eyes. it’s just so hard, when he’s this impaired and billy’s lips look that red.

“i, uh,” steve stammers, his breath catching. “good. it was good. all good, everything...good.”

“i didn’t quite catch that. you said it was good?” billy teases. reaches over and bumps steve’s nose, gently. endearingly.

“i...good.”

billy hums. toys with a lock of steve’s hair. “interesting. riveting detail.”

steve can’t stop looking at billy’s lips, thinking about what they would feel like against his own. what they would taste like. when he meets billy’s eyes, the look he gives steve burns him to his core.

“kiss me,” steve demands, his voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

the look in billy’s eyes is positively hungry. but he just reaches a hand out, brushing his thumb across steve’s lips. it catches slightly on the soft skin it finds there.

steve can’t help it. he presses a kiss to the pad of billy’s thumb, making direct eye contact with him as he does. billy makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his cheeks blooming a beautiful, brilliant red.

before steve can take another breath, billy is kissing him. cupping the side of steve’s face in his warm palm, fingers curling over his jaw. he kisses steve desperately, like if he were to let steve go for even a moment he’d disappear.

he kisses steve until they’re both dizzy. until steve’s head spins. until all he can feel is the soft heat of billy’s lips against his own and the soothing waves of his high, sending him drifting. suspended in the feeling of the hard lines of billy’s body pressed against him and the haziness of his mind.

billy pulls away, finally letting steve pull air into his lungs. he doesn’t go far. keeps his palm resting against steve’s skin, his thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

steve doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. his mind is too foggy. but billy doesn’t seem to mind. he just leans back in and kisses steve lazily, every now and again. until steve’s head is a little clearer and he can form a coherent sentence.

he toys with the ring on billy’s finger. bites his lip, then gives billy a coy smile. “so, where’s my motel invite?”

“who needs a motel,” billy leans in, speaking directly into steve’s ear, his voice low and sinfully smooth, “when i’ve got a perfectly good camaro sitting right out there?”

steve scrambles up from the chair so fast that it practically gives billy whiplash. he pulls billy up by his hand, all but dragging him to the parking lot. billy just laughs, loud and genuine, face turned up towards the sky.

billy doesn’t have any objections. he just grins, soft and affectionate, and lets himself be pulled.

Um hi everyone it's @sightetsound's birthday today!!!!!!!

Oh no ♥ Thank you for reading!

Yeah...yeah... Well, they’re in a small small town and the only other priest at the church was very old (part of the reason Tiefer wound up back there: he’d known the guy when he was a kid, he’s the one who helped him get out of there and into seminary so Tiefer felt a bit obligated to go and help him) and Tiefer did know one part of the happy couple very very well, so he’d be a perfect officiant. 

Hurray for the color pink!! I find the carnation association so interesting because I don’t think I particularly reblog or mention that flower, but it symbolizes profound love, affection, even maternity. So, Kayla, I take it you think I love you a lot and am a protective and supportive feminine presence in your life and you are 100% right. Deviance tho? I dunno, suddenly I dunno how to read

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

what’s real or isn’t   or   from the landscape: a sense of scale

i think what’s real is the most interesting thing i’ve written. i think from the landscape is the piece i’ve spent the most time on/worked the hardest on, so. sorry. i could only narrow it down to two, and they’re both kylux.

hi there!! 🤗

oolong: ideal romantic partner?