#ive really been wanting to paint my nails ^-^

[basslinegrave]

entering flat hair era for a bit. and let it be a bit greasy too lets see how that affects the trangenderism i cant be putting this much effort

[phagodyke]

every time I open the blinds of my bedroom window these last few days I've had this really weird feeling that something is wrong with the view and I've just realised now that the scaffolding which was up outside since we moved in (15 months ago) has FINALLY been taken down. put it backk the buildings naked 😭

[autism-corner]

=w=b

[fortunately-bi]

Do the followers know I'm a metal head? Do they know that I want to be covered in tattoos with an alternative look who listens to obscure metal bands and stuff? Or do I still come off as like, the nerd in the basement lmao

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Getting your nails done is so anxiety inducing

[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

[j1mmys-darl1ng]

October 14th - quicksilver (smut)

Pairing : peter maximoff x reader

Warnings : MDNI!! DO NOT READ IF YOUR BELOW THE AGE OF 18!!

P in v, unprotected sex, peter talking you through it, no aftercare, human vibrator

A/n: im actually really struggling to write the rest of the fics, this is literally meant to be out tomorrow at the time of writing

DO NOT BLAME ME FOR WHAT YOU CHOSE TO CONSUME, ITS YOUR FAULT IF YOU READ FURTHER

Peters room was the go to hangout area for the two of you. It was usually the right temperature, he'd have a stash of snacks (of which were mainly twinkies), a few warm blankets for those cold nights you stayed over. It was always perfect.

That leads you to this night. Peters head was resting on your lower stomach as both of you were watching some crappy movie, mindlessly playing with the hem of your shorts.

You could feel his shoulder pressing against the one spot that had been aching for him all day. Every shuffle from him, you have to stop yourself from squirming, trying to get more pleasure from it. Surely he doesn't feel the same way.. Right?

"hey, you ok?" you hear peter ask you, your head giving a small nod, adjusting your position. Thats all you needed for a small whine to slip past your lips.

That stupid damn smirk. Of course he has that stupid damn smirk after hearing that.

"what was that noise?" he scoots up, his elbows proping him up so now his face is mere inches away from yours. His stomach putting pressure on the area you needed him to, causing you to squirm slightly.

"..nothing..?" you knew he wouldn't let it slide. His warm breath was hitting your face, his lips oh so close to touching yours.

"bullshit" before you even registered it, his lips were on yours. You couldn't help but kiss back, your hands going to his hair and pulling him closer.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

After a few minuets of making out, he begins to slip your shorts down your legs, kissing your thighs as he did so.

"god... Your gorgeous.." he groans, not waiting a second to rip his sweatpants off. He was so hard it looked painful, it looked like he would rip open his boxers.

With a blur, he's alright inside of you, his lips against your forehead.

"someones excited huh?"

"cant help it that ive waited this long" he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours once more but this time hes slower, beginning to thrust.

He starts of by being gentle, not wanting to use his mutation to its fullest extent just yet. He was pepering you with kisses anywhere he could reach, nuzzling his face between your breasts.

"you dont have to go soft on me, y'know? I can take it" you huff, getting a bit frustrated at the lack of speed from the guy that is literally known for speed.

"sorry princess" he chuckles "just dont wanna hurt ya'"

With that, he begins to speed up, his hands massaging your hips and thighs.

Not even a few minutes later, hes going x10 faster, his face burried in the crook of your neck. You had never thought he'd be the typa guy to whimper but he is definitely disproving you now.

His hips move in a blur, bringing you to the edge way faster than you'd thought.

"... Ugh... Keep doin' that... Please.." you whine, hands pulling his hair and your lips leaving sloppy kisses on his shoulder.

"wasnt plannin' on stoppin'.. M' pretty girl" his nails dig into your hips, his cock twitching against your walls as they begin to close in on him.

"AHG! Fuck... Shit" he grunts, his seed painting your walls white. His thumb sneaks down and rubs your clit, sending you over the edge and cumming around him.

"... Holy shit..." he huffs, his sweaty body collapsing onto yours.

"... That was amazing.." you tell him, only to realise hes fallen asleep cuding you.

A/n : sorry for how rushed and poorly written this is! Jaytober is kinda making me loose motivation especially since i dont have much free time to do it anymore and my mental health just loves to take a head first dive into depression

Thank you so much for reading! <3

[jetblack4realz]

lake days v - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - your relationship with jake evolves as you continue to spend time together on and off base. he's basically a part of your family, but neither of you have hopes to become part of his when you get stationed in california.

pt i , pt ii , pt iii , pt iv , pt vi

warnings - nah

a/n - i'm low key so excited for where this is going, it'll be fun to write fs

word count - 3.7k

______________________________________________________________

fall and winter had come and gone and as the spring warmed into summer, you and logan began to de-winterize your boat. jake, of course, tagged along for the adventure, trying to remember exactly what you were telling him about - from checking the engine and battery to cleaning the distributor, he was trying to catch it all. he hoped that next year he'd be able to do it with you and not bother logan with it.

"we should probably paint the bottom," you hummed to your brother as you inspected the cobalt. "it's been a while."

"i've got leila's dance recital, i can't do it today," logan answered.

"we can just do it," jake offered. "i can paint."

"well, we've got to sand it all off, check for rot and mold, prime, and then paint," you explained. he smiled at you, quirking a brow.

"darlin', i can paint," he said again. "that's the same old shit i had to do when i worked with my granddad." he turned his attention to your older brother. "we've got it, logan."

you were impressed with how little time it took jake to sand his half of the hull, the man crossing to your side to help finish up what you'd barely managed to complete. then, after wiping the dust and paint remains off, you took a quick look around for any rust or water leaks and continued with the paint.

jake wasn't lying - he could paint. he was quick and efficient and you were so glad he was the one helping you instead of logan. he was like you and couldn't seem to move fast at all when it came to painting. jake was done in only and hour and as you two let it dry, you laid out in the sun in your swimsuits, committed to getting a tan before the first boat ride in a few weeks.

"you've got paint on your arms," you told him with a laugh, leaning over to pick it off with your nails. he pulled away from you, whacking your hand away before doing it himself.

"your nails are sharp," he whined when you tried to help again, earning a laugh and an eyeroll from you.

"you're such a baby," you said, leaning back in your chair with his sunglasses perched on your nose. he smirked once he finally wiped the rest of the paint off and leaned over to you, pressing light kisses up your jaw and to your lips.

"do you really think that, darlin'?" he asked against your mouth, capturing your lips in his for a few brief moments before pulling away. you sat up quickly, looking at him with an unimpressed expression.

"really?" you asked.

"what? if you want more all you gotta do is say it," he told you, his smirk only growing with your irritation. you leaned closer to him, hand reaching up to grab his neck and pull him towards you, but he pulled away.

"jake," you whined, looking up at him over your sunglasses.

"what?" he asked, feigning innocence even though his grin gave him away. you scooted forwrad, hand still on his neck.

"just kiss me, you idiot," you muttered and his grin changed shape.

"whatever you say, sweetheart."

he kissed you more completely, pulling you closer to him as your lips locked repeatedly. his hands were resting carefully on your lower back, never moving anywhere they weren't supposed to. you appreciated that. except when he pulled you even closer, trying to maneuver you into his lap.

"jake," you breathed out, pulling away with a large breath as your hands caught his. "not now."

you two had talked about this several times and each time he respected your choice to stay abstinent. you'd always been careful with boyfriends in the past, only wanting to give yourself to your husband. call you old fashioned and call you a classic southern belle, a cheesy church girl, but you wanted to make it special, to make it count. and while you knew jake was special and you were extremely confident after dating him for nearly a year that he was the one - you couldn't be certain until there was a ring on your finger.

"i know," he hummed, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "i wasn't trying that."

"we're just both in swimsuits and outside," you laughed lightly. "i wouldn't want finn to decide now is the time to stop by."

"i know." he pressed another kiss to your lips. "we could always move inside if you want?"

he was grinning in a way that made you giggle and you kissed him again.

"how are we supposed to be tan if we're not tanning, jake?" you asked.

"i never said i needed to be tan, baby," he laughed. "that was all you."

you hesitated, glancing from your boyfriend to the door.

"i'll agree to go inside if we watch '50 first dates'," you said.

he sighed dramatically, droning on a, "fine."

"hey, you know you love adam sandler and drew barrymore as much as i do," you told him with a pointed finger as he pulled you up and to the door.

"i'll agree to adam sandler, but drew? not my kinda gal."

when he approached you about having lunch with his mom and sisters, you were over the moon.

"when?" you asked excitedly.

"apparently they're coming down for the weekend for molly's birthday," he answered. "staying in a hotel and all that. asked if we wanted to go on saturday."

"absolutely we do," you said, grinning. "jake, this is great! as much as you hate to admit it, i know you've missed them. and this way you don't have to see your dad, you just get to hang out with them."

"and they get to meet you," he said. "they're awfully excited about it. i haven't taken a girl home, well, ever."

"always the playboy, weren't you," you said with a laugh.

"until you went and made a man out of me," he answered, pressing a short kiss to your lips with a smile.

when you approached bj's bbq, you were a little nervous. jake squeezed your hand and shot you a winning smile before pulling you in and telling the hostess you were meeting others.

she led you to where the women were sitting, all smiling brightly at you as you approached.

you noticed that two of the four sisters were pregnant, leading you to smile softly. you slightly envied them. you and jake had talked about kids - you both loved them, but your jobs were too crazy to let that happen currently. you hoped that once you were married though, you would take a break and start a family.

"jake!" they cheered, standing to hug the man at your side. you let go of his hand to let him embrace them properly. the woman you assumed was his mother turned to you after greeting him, offering you a warm smile.

"you must be y/n," she said.

"that i am," you said with a nervous laugh.

"i'm dorothy, it's such a pleasure to meet you." she pulled you into a hug and you relaxed a bit, smiling as you pulled back.

"you too."

once you sat down, jake took the time to introduce each sister. the two that were pregnant were actually his twin little sisters, addison and annabelle, and the other two were georgia, who was darren's age, and molly, the sister just under jake and the birthday girl.

after you wished her a happy birthday, molly was quick to strike up conversation. "y/n, you have no idea how excited we are to meet you. jake's never been as head over heels as he is for you, let me tell you that."

the other girls chuckled in agreement.

"oh, you've talked about me?" you teased, shooting a look in jake's direction.

"more like raved," addison laughed. "he's obsessed with you."

"it's sweet," annabelle said.

you noticed how thick their accents were, even in comparison to yours and your family's. it made some sort of sense based on what jake had told you about living in a small town outside of odessa, working on the ranch from a young age, and being the first in his family to move out of texas in decades.

"we won't ask you how you met, he's already told us that. but tell us what y'all have been up to! how was the drive?" molly asked.

"it was good," you nodded. "we're not too far out, just live about a half hour away. highway's easy."

"oh, that's nice," dorothy nodded.

"and y'all? how was your drive?" you asked.

"enjoyable. just listened to music the whole way here, went a lot faster than you'd think," annabelle said.

"oh, i'm glad!" you said.

"hey, jake here said that your mom and i went to high school together. what was her maiden name? he couldn't recall," dorothy asked.

"hansen," you told her with a soft smile. "there's probably about a million of them up over there in upton."

"oh, yes! i know exactly who she is, then. and yes, there certainly are a lot of hansens out that way," she laughed. "they had to come over to our high school because of how small the towns were. your mother and i were on the cheer squad together. she was one of my bases and she was always the strongest girl on the team."

"sounds like her," you laughed lightly.

"always so kind too. we'll have to get together sometime soon," she said.

"jake says you've got a lot of brothers," addison said.

"any of 'em single?" georgia asked with a grin.

"actually yes," you laughed. "you're 18, right?"

"yes ma'am," georgia answered.

"well, then, i bet you and darren would get along quite nicely," you said with a chuckle.

"do not put those two together," jake said seriously. "we would have hell on our hands."

you all laughed, his grin rising as he squeezed your hand under the table.

you were certain they were all the sweetest girls you'd ever met and were sad when the time came for you all to split up - they had concert tickets to jon pardi.

having not grown up with sisters, you tended to cling to girls you met, which is why you were so close with your sister-in-laws. and why you presumed you'd become close with jake's sisters too. it made you real excited.

"it's a perfect trade, ain't it?" you said, climbing into the f-150 passenger side. even though it was yours, it always felt more like jake's. and anyways, he loved to drive it at all times and you hated driving in the city, so you let him. "i have brothers for you and you have sisters for me."

"perfect," he agreed with a smile.

it was a few weeks later that jake got his orders.

"north island?" you asked with wide eyes.

"they just told me," he sighed.

you both had been deployed twice individually, you gone for over a month on the uss intrepid over christmas and jake leaving the same week you got back to help out the atlantic fleet in virginia for a few weeks. over valentine's day he was gone again and you were absent for two weeks in april to fly a mission you weren't expecting to ever have to fly - one with bogies and orders you weren't even allowed to tell jake. you both came back each time, returning to texas with new mission orders and flying together again. but, this was different.

"top gun? you're going back to top gun?" you asked.

"and it could be my new station for who knows how long. jacobsen is considering transferring me to the pacific fleet."

"what?" you gasped, looking at him with knitted brows. you were still in your flight suit, jake having ran to catch you before you went into the locker rooms. "but then you'll be gone. i mean, we got lucky that we both got transferred to texas, but there's no way in hell that we'd be lucky enough to both get traded to a complete opposite fleet, i mean-"

"y/n," he said, grabbing your shoulders with a small smile. "it'll be okay."

"how can you say that?" you asked, brows furrowing deeper. "how can you know?"

"because he needs to talk to you too."

when you announced to your family on sunday night dinner that you wouldn't be able to attend your annual summer kick-off boat day because of a change in orders.

"where are you going?" logan asked, chewing on some apple pie alice had made.

"north island," you answered with a small smile.

"that's nice," your mom said, returning your smile. "back to home base."

"well, technically this is home base," you said, gesturing to the dining room around you. "but, yeah, my base of origin. i like north island. it'll be good."

"and it's not just that," jake said. "we're heading to top gun."

"top gun?" your dad asked, grinning widely. "what the hell are y'all gonna do at top gun again?"

"dunno," jake shrugged with a short laugh. "obviously something important."

"the odds that you both would get called back. i mean, you've already had two deployments together, why not three?" darren chuckled.

you didn't notice the way brynlee and kyrie looked at each other, or how jake kicked darren's leg under the table. why would you?

"yeah, i don't know," you hummed. "i'd say they like us working together, but we've been off on missions by ourselves since we first got put together. i really don't see why they'd do that again."

"they need us," jake offered with a shrug. "for whatever this is that we're doing."

the dinner wrapped up when everleigh fell asleep on her mother's lap. you said goodbye to everybody, promising to see them before you and jake packed up and left the following week.

you walked back to your place, jake holding his hand in yours as a comfortable silence filled the air.

"let's go this way," he told you, pulling you gently towards a small section of trees behind your toy garage.

"what? why?" you asked with a small laugh.

"just trust me," he said, shooting you his oh so charming grin and a wink.

he pulled you the rest of the way to where you knew the grove was, a smile on his lips the whole way. when you passed the garage and approached closer, you began to see a few lights. your heart jumped, thoughts running a million miles an hour through your mind as a grin pulled at your lips.

"jake?"

"shh."

he was smiling widely at you and sped up his steps. you were finally able to see a few strands of twinkle lights strung between the trees, pictures of you and him clipped onto them.

you on the boat, quadding, at the bar, on the tarmac, at the zoo with finn, on his 31st birthday, in your white suits, in your flight suits, at the alamo, on the couch, riding horses, on a tornado chase gideon had convinced you to one weekend, and a lot of selfies on the strip of stores you two frequented.

you looked at them with a wide smile, fingers brushing the edges. when you turned to comment to jake about how sweet his setup was, he was already kneeled down, a gentle smile on his lips.

you gasped, not out of surprise - it was easy to tell what his intentions were and you'd discussed it several times, but because you were so incredibly overwhelmed with excitement.

"y/n y/l/n," he started. "i love you more than i could tell you, more than i thought was ever possible, and love you more and more every day and every time i look at your gorgeous face. you are the only person i trust in the air and on the ground, the person who makes me feel alive every second i'm with you, and my best friend. you're my favorite person, my love, my life, and i want it to stay that way forever. will you marry me?"

"of course i will," you said, your smile the widest it could be as he grinned, slipping the gorgeous, simple diamond ring onto your finger. he stood quickly, taking you into his arms as you grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, kissing him sweetly. you couldn't help the smile that remained on your lips, but he didn't seem to mind.

you pulled away, breathless, kissing his lips again; shorter and softer, but somehow sweeter.

"i love you, jake seresin," you breathed out, looking into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes with a small smile. "the most."

that night you received a text from kyrie that led you to a shared google photos album. apparently, she and brynlee had followed you back and snuck a video and pictures of the whole ordeal.

you loved them for it.

the two of you looked so happy, so overwhelmingly joyous and somehow she had managed to catch the best moments. brynlee was an expert in videography, a skill none of you knew she had before, and had the best angle of him coming up to kiss you. it made your heart flutter the way that he pulled you close to him and giggle at how he had pumped his fist in the air in achievement.

a few moments later, another text came through.

'i'm happy to take some engagements for y'all before you leave next week. just let me know when!😘'

"who all knew?" you asked, tilting your head to look at jake laying next to you. he breathed a laugh.

"everyone. i had to pay finn in snickers not to tell you."

"how long have you been planning this?"

"picked out the ring a few months ago, just been waiting for it to be sized and altered for you. brynlee managed to get into your pinterest account and so i had several reference pictures as to how to get it exactly right."

"you mean it didn't come like this?" you asked, holding your hand up to get a good look at the ring. he hummed a 'no', fingers rising to trace along the band.

"these two little stones weren't there and the rock wasn't in a circle like this. and then i had to size it," he answered.

"you're so sweet," you mumbled with a smile, leaning up to give him a soft kiss. he smiled as he reciprocated.

"i do my best," he answered.

as you pulled apart, you furrowed your brows.

"wait, is this why i got assigned to top gun?" you asked. "why we got stationed together again?"

"no," he said. "but, it's why we'll only ever be stationed together again."

"you didn't ask him to put me on the mission?" you asked.

"no, i just about freaked out in asking him if you were on it though. it wasn't hard for him to figure out i was planning on proposing. i was gonna propose on the boat, but then he called me in and i got all flustered. but yeah, i already filed the paperwork for us to be kept together and if we go anywhere else we'll be in the married quarters."

"before i even said yes?" you laughed.

"oh, like you could say no to all this," he told you with a smirk, kissing you again before you pulled away laughing.

"you're too much, seresin," you said.

"hmm, i'll like that a lot more when it belongs to you too," he said.

"when are we thinkin'?" you asked, leaning back into his chest as he squeezed your side.

"after whatever the hell this mission in. preferably here in texas, but if we're stationed permanently in north island then i guess we could do it in california too. i don't wanna wait any longer than i have to to be married to you," he said.

"oh, you've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" you giggled.

"of course i have. this is our life, i want to start a life with you. a real one," he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"i want that too," you said. "have you told your family?"

"mhm," he hummed. "they're ecstatic."

"i'll probably make your sisters my bridesmaids. and the girls and phoenix of course."

"you told phoenix?" he asked.

"not yet. why?"

"none of 'em even know we're together," he said. "at least, not by me."

"nah, i haven't talked to any of them very much. coyote is more of your friend and phoenix has been deployed like eight different times. and well, why would i tell bradley?"

"you know how funny it'll be when we tell them?" he chuckled.

"what if we didn't? what if we just send them the invitations?" you laughed. he paused.

"that ain't a half bad idea, darlin'," he told you, grinning mischievously at the end. you laughed.

"yeah? you wanna play it cool, act like we ain't nothin' just to go back to the same bed every night?" you asked.

"well, we don't have marriage quarters yet," he said.

"that sucks," you grumbled.

"we just gotta get married earlier then," he answered, grinning down at you before pressing a kiss to the side of your temple. "that'll throw 'em off for sure."

"it would be funny," you mused, playing with the thought. "i dunno if i could keep it from phoenix though."

"i believe in you, baby," he said, a breathy laugh threading his tone.

"let's do it. just for fun," you agreed, nodding. "means you can't flirt with me, though."

"uh uh," he said with a shake of his head. "i flirted with you before. you just can't take me seriously."

"you make that damn hard, seresin," you told him, smiling as you leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw.

"and you make it damn hard to keep my hands off 'o you," he said, pulling you closer to him. he sighed, his breath tickling your cheek. "but, to see the look on rooster's face. you know he's got a crush on you, don't ya?"

"he does not!" you objected.

"oh sure he does. every man in the navy does," he laughed. he smirked at you, kissing you slowly. "but you're all mine."

"all yours."

[drdemonprince]

When other people say that they do not have enough time to get something done, they (often, if they're quite healthy) mean they are taking into account the time it takes to do the laundry and arrange new pieces of furniture and cook dinner and meet up with friends to see a movie and run to the post office or the hair dresser and take the dog for walks and do the dishes and paint their nails and drive to the store and go to their cousin's wedding and go to the barbecue their friend is throwing on the weekend

they don't winnow their life down to just spending time at the computer, working from when they wake up until they cannot focus their eyes anymore, granola bars, coffee, and bottles of water all around them because of course they did not take time to have lunch or breakfast, only dragging themselves away from work when they are truly too exhausted to do any of it anymore, and then lacking the energy to do much of anything that remains of life but to eat a tiny bit more, sponge themselves off, and go to sleep.

i just saw a video of a fursuiter on their bed, legs kicked back, head propped on their hands, delightedly announcing that after many years of hard work they had finally finished their Master's degree. And some part of me, some sick withered part, thought really? you had time to do a Master's degree while also getting a fursuit done? and going to conventions, presumably? you had time in the day to research fursuit makers, have a sona designed and drawn by someone else (or to draw it yourself), to contact a maker to make a duck tape dummy of yourself, and to have a friend over to help you make it and to cut it off of you, to send it in the mail to the maker, to then get it and make videos? you had time to set up this beautiful bedroom that i see in your video, with a soft pink sham on the bed and LED lights behind your bookshelf and lamps and all kinds of stuffed toys? you had a life? you were out playing, and dancing, and pursuing your hobbies, and you did a master's degree?

because when i was working on my doctorate, there was nothing. three layers of foam on the floor with a fitted sheet over it. a folding card table from aldi that had cost $40 that my grandparents got me. no food in the fridge. no time to even get the internet installed, just stolen wi-fi when my laptop could pick it up. i woke up, got dressed, and slunk into the office. i sat alone in the dark working until my hunger made me furious and i could not write another word. and then i walked to the grocery store, got something to subsist on, went home, ate, kickboxing video, went to sleep. every day. with almost nothing breaking the routine.

and ive gotten better, so much better, but my brain still kind of works that way. i feel like i have to quit my job and stop being a writer if i want to have hobbies. to paint my bedroom. to marinate a meat for longer than fifteen minutes. to get a driver's license again. to take a trip. but i dont want to be like that any more. how do people know when to stop? i feel like i have to give everything my absolute all until there is nothing left or else i have done nothing. i feel that i would have to treat a hobby like a job to get it done. I feel that anything that takes more than two minutes is a huge waste of time i must feel guilty for. i am working on all these things. jesus i have been working on them for years at this point. but because i have been so successful at telling people to do less, i get pulled in. interview. workshop invitation. email. urgent in the subject line. call from my agent. meeting request from my boss. new book idea, better sell it now while my sales figures still look good. recording studio session. deadline. writing. can you talk about this. can you talk about that. tag. email. book idea. deadline. long heartfelt email. still so often i have to take my own damn advice.

and this is why i am getting a fursuit made!! and going to cons! and going to leather and latex events! and making socials that are separate for these things!! i am going to let myself be silly and soft and do frivolous things. i am so sick of what i do to myself, all the pursuit of seeming like a strong mature adult.

[stevie-petey]

Thank you so much for the new chapter you never cease to amaze me <3. I had a blurb idea for in-between season two and three if you have time.

Bug going to visit El and hopper. She brings treats and books. She helps El basically catch up on all those years she missed out on school. She even spends time with hopper. Helping him clean up before she leaves, or giving him recipes for when El wants something. That also means helping him when it turns out to be a disaster. Teaching El to read,basic math, and spelling. Also teaching her fun stuff like how to make bracelets and how to paint her nails. Basically bug being her big sister/ female figure in her life. I think bug would give El a nickname like Ellie, I think it's so cute. The vision of bug finally having someone to give her hand me downs too. She'd also get her new stuff but only has so much money you know? Thank you mwah❤️

ah thank you for reading !!! ive been DYING to write more scenes with bug and el and hopper, so thank you for the request !!!

enjoy <3

"how do you know where i live?"

you snort at hoppers question. "hello to you too, old man."

hopper rubs his face tiredly as he leans against the doorframe. hes only just managed to kick mike out of his house, and now he has to deal with you? not happening. "go away."

"we both know i own knives."

"stab me, go ahead. youre not coming in."

before you can shove your way in, el sneaks up from behind hopper and pokes her head out the door. she had heard your voice from inside. "y/n!"

the girl shoves hopper aside and throws herself into your arms, and you gladly accept the hug. "hi, sweetheart."

it's been a few weeks since youve last seen her, being confined to your house to heal the wounds from the demodogs and tunnels. the second your mom gave you the all clear, you baked a pile of els favorite cookies and forced mike to tell you where hoppers cabin was.

which leads you to now: hugging el tightly with a backpack full of baked goods and comics to read to her.

"here for me?" el asks you, her eyes shining.

you look at hopper and smirk. "i dont know. am i here for el, hopper?"

he looks between the two of you and curses. el has her arms wrapped firmly around you and shes giving him a warning glare, daring him to say no. accepting that hes been cornered, hopper steps away from the door and motions for you to step inside. "i hate this."

you reach into your backpack and pull out a stash of peanut butter cups you had baked specifically to bribe the old man. "i brought a peace offering."

"well, why didnt you start with that?" hopper snatches the treats from you and sniffs the bag. his face melts into satisfied interest. "not bad, kid."

"i do my best." you shrug, now following el inside as she takes your hand and guides you to the couch. she sits you down and when you pull out the comics, she claps her hands in excitement.

the two of you get settled in, eating the cookies youve baked as you slowly read aloud the stories from the comics. every so often you have el try to read small portions as well, knowing she never received the necessary education due to the men who stole her childhood, and hopper cant help but watch you with el.

he sits at the kitchen table and pretends to read the newspaper, but really hes eating the peanut butter cups as he watches the way you help el sound out difficult words and giggle together. despite his annoyance towards you for showing up on his doorstep unannounced, hopper cant help but smile as he watches.

youre sweet with el, patient and understanding, and hopper now understands why joyce speaks so highly of you all the time. the woman had told him that youd been a such a gift to her family, and as hopper watches el practically light up in your presence, he finally accepts the womans words.

youre the best of the kids.

theres no denying that.

and if that means that hopper now has to make room in his cupboard for baking ingredients so that he can help you keep your own baking needs supplied, then so be it. he'll even make room for the nail polish and comics that will inevitably make their way into his home because of you.

hes happy to help you, to repay you for your kindness to el, even if hopper groans and complains the whole time.

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,398

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of neil, reader has insecurities/social anxiety/anxiety in general, billy’s anxiety, descriptions of a wound, fluff, comfort

a/n: hi! so i worked on this for a couple days and i’ve kind of been wracking my brain with trying to figure out where i want to go, if that makes sense, but i think maybe i’ve gotten somewhere with this part. there’s definitely more opening up on both billy and reader’s side. there’s also one bit inspired by good will hunting, incase anyone catches it. anyways, this has been very self indulgent for me, and i hope that maybe you might find something in it. enjoy!! <33

before you read, listen to: fade to black by metallica and/or don’t dream it’s over by crowded house

————

It’s cloudy this morning, and you can feel the cold metal of your car door against your back, despite the layers you’ve got on.

You can feel Billy’s eyes on you too, so you focus on the details of his car rather than on him. On the shimmer the paint has in it when the light hits it the right way, the little scuff at the bottom of the driver’s side door.

You give in and turn your head to look at him, meeting his pretty blue eyes.

Billy takes a drag from his cigarette, assessing you.

He watches you pick at your nails, mess with your hair. Then you finally shove your hands in your pockets, though he thinks there’s probably lint in there you’ll play with too.

You watch him turn his head and blow the smoke in the other direction, like he does every time he has one near you.

Billy realized fairly quickly that you got to school earlier than necessary because you wanted to beat the rush of kids, spare the anxiety that came with parking.

He wasn’t really aware that parking is something that stresses people out. But it stresses you out.

And Billy has anxiety. He knows that. He feels it everyday. When people watch him in the halls at school, when he’s at home. Shit, it never stops at home.

But yours is different. You’re different than he is. He hides his well, and you don’t. Though maybe, he thinks, that’s because you never had to.

So he started getting there earlier too. Max would’ve complained, but she could skate around until the rest of the party got there. She found that she liked it that way.

Now, in the mornings, Billy pulls into the space next to you, tears you away from your book, and spends the rest of the time until you actually have to go into school talking to you—or not talking.

You’ve found that though it’s easy to talk to him, it’s also just as easy to be around him without speaking at all. You’ve found that his company is enough. His presence.

Billy notices, when you’ve turned to look at him, that you’re biting at the inside of your lip. He notices because he recognizes the movement, because he does the same thing. It’s rare that the inside of either of his lips aren’t sore because he’s chewed them raw.

“It’s going to be fine, you know,” Billy tells you. He stomps out the butt of his cigarette.

“You always say that.”

And truly, you know he’s got a point. You’ve studied your ass off for this test, have even had him look over your outlines for the essay portion too. You feel prepared.

But there’s always that voice in the back of your head, telling you otherwise.

The voice that clouds your mind like a shadow, that wraps its arms around your shoulders and squeezes.

It moves your hair to the side and whispers in your ear.

You’re not good enough. You have no purpose. You’re nothing. What are you doing here?

And more often than not, you believe it.

Billy walks toward you, adjusts the collar on your jacket, straightens the pin on the front pocket. He stares at you, a stern look on his face.

“And I’m always right, aren’t I? You’re going to be fine, in the end.”

You nod, and his mouth ticks up at the corners.

Billy bends the middle finger on his right hand and drags his knuckle across your cheek. It’s what he does now when he wants to offer you comfort.

You know it’s in place of a hug, or a kiss, or some passionate string of words that he can’t bring yet himself to say.

It hasn’t been but a couple weeks since that day at lunch.

He’d sat there, stealing food from your lunchbox and reading some book for English class. Something he’d never have picked out for himself and certainly wasn’t enjoying.

After that Billy found himself looking for you in the halls, just wanting to know you were there. It’s like when you’re a kid and your seat mate doesn’t come to school, and you feel this ache for them.

He’s not what it is, but he likes you. He likes your company. He likes that you don’t pester him or try to stomp all over his ego.

Billy Hargrove aches for you.

From then on, it’s been quiet conversations whenever you see each other, joining him for a walk when he’s outside. Sometimes he strolls down your driveway to wait for you.

It’s been nothing more than two lonely people finding solace in one another, in realizing that either person will understand whenever the dam breaks.

Billy might not know all the inner workings of your soul yet, but he feels like he does.

It’s when he asks you a question he hasn’t ventured to ask yet, though, that he realizes he wants to know more.

He wants to be your friend.

You watch the carline for the middle school pick up, listen to the shitty country music that the kids who live further out from town play on their way into the lot.

Billy knocks his ankle against yours softly. You look down, realizing that you’ve both got on the same pair of shoes: converse that look like they’ve seen much better days.

You look up, thinking he wants something. “Hm?”

“Would you want to go somewhere tonight? I don’t know,” he trails off, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth, “the record store? Or the bookstore, if you’d rather that. We could get something to eat.”

You feel yourself get warm all over and straighten from where you’d been relaxed against your car.

Billy senses that what he said set something off in you, and he starts to worry. “We could do anything you want.”

You inhale, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Uh, I don’t know, Billy. I’ve got to study.”

He scoffs. “For what? Your test is today.”

“Yeah, we’ll I’ve got another one next week,” you say.

“So you’re going to start studying a week early?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. It’s like you’re scrambling for a way out of this, for an excuse as to why you can’t spend time with him.

“My mom might need me tonight or something. I’ll have to ask her.”

Billy almost makes a quip about you having to ask your mommy’s permission to go out, though he decides against it, because you’re shrinking before his very eyes.

“Yeah?” He inquires.

You nod, shouldering your bag.

————

Billy calls you after school. Your mother picks up.

“Hi! This is Nicky. Who’s calling?”

He takes a deep breath. Your mother sounds kind, which he isn’t used to.

“Hi. This is Billy. Billy Hargrove. I was trying to reach Y/N, is she home?”

“Oh, hi, Billy! Yeah, she’s home. I think she might be asleep though.”

“That’s okay.” He tries to call her by your last name, but she insists that Nicky is just fine.

“Can I ask you something?” He continues.

Your mother doesn’t know a whole lot about your budding friendship with Billy, but she does know that you’ve seemed a little less…empty.

At least she thinks so. She thinks he might be good for you, and based on the fact that he’s calling, you might be good for him too.

“Sure, hon. Shoot.”

“Do you need Y/N tonight? Do you have plans?”

Your mother hums. “Nope to both. Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

“I wanted to see her tonight, but she said she had stuff to do.”

It clicks for him then, all at once.

“But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe she’s nervous? To go out and about? I’m sorry for saying all this, really,” Billy covers.

“No, sweetheart it’s okay.”

That almost does him in. No one parental has ever spoken to him this way. Not since his mom.

“Y/N has pretty bad social anxiety, so oftentimes she gets nervous about going out in public where there are loads of people. Does that make sense?”

“No, yeah that totally makes sense. Thank you for telling me.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking. “Do you think you could check on her? If she’s asleep don’t bother her though.” He finally says.

“Hold on just a second, okay sweetie? I’ll go see what she’s up to.”

Billy smiles, and he’s sure your mother can hear it in his voice when he responds. “Okay.”

The line goes quiet on her end, and he can hear what he assumes is the sound of your mother setting the phone on the counter. He can also hear some muffled voices.

He really wants to see you, but he understands if you’d rather stay home. He would try and invite you over to his, but he’d also like to avoid that.

There’s s a large part of Billy that wants to be there for you and learn what it is that you’re feeling. He can’t say that he doesn’t get nervous to be the center of attention in crowded places, because he does, but he’s never felt like he couldn’t go out like you do.

There’s a shuffling over the phone that brings him out of his stupor.

This time it’s your voice that he hears, and it’s calm, sweet, just like your mother’s had been. You’re not upset with him. His shoulders relax at that realization.

“Hi, Billy.”

“Guess you weren’t sleeping then, huh?”

You laugh lightly. “Nope. Just wallowing in self pity. What’d you wanna talk about?”

“About what I asked you today. I’d really like to spend a little more time with you, but I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Let me think for a second, okay?”

“Only for a second. I don’t want you to psych yourself out.” Billy can hear you sigh heavily, and he rolls his eyes. He can practically picture you, standing there.

“Um, okay. I’ll-I’ll go. Yeah, I’ll go. I haven’t been anywhere besides school in a long ass time.” That bit seems directed more at yourself than at Billy.

“Okay, little honeybee.” He’d heard your mom call for you and he was saving that one up.

“Fuck off,” you start, though there’s no malice in your voice. “Also, we can go to both, by the way.”

“Huh?” He questions, caught off guard.

“The record store and the bookstore. You offered the bookstore and I’m not letting it go.”

“Stubborn ass,” he mumbles.

“Can it, Hargrove. Are you picking me up? If so, when?”

He knows you could just walk down the street and go wherever with him. But he doesn’t want that. He finds that he’s kind of excited to see you.

“Yeah I can pick you up, your highness.”

————

Billy reaches across and pushes the passenger side door open when he sees you patter down the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” he hears you mumble, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Mhm.”

The both of you are silent for a moment, and you watch houses flick by outside the window. You wonder what people are up to. If they’re comfortable in those houses. If they’ve got carpet or hardwoods or stairs.

The radio volume is shockingly low you notice, but high enough that you catch something you recognize: the beginning of “Fade to Black.”

“Is there a reason you’re keeping the music so quiet?” You ask, and Billy glances at you for just a second.

“I was trying to not be an asshole,” he smirks, but it turns into a full, swoon-worthy smile when he sees you do the same at his remark.

“Well, you can turn it up, if you want. I like this song.”

Billy laughs. “Don’t fuck with me like that, Y/N.” He reaches for the dial and turns it up anyways. “Are you trying to tell me that you like Metallica?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Hargrove?” You sit on your hands, the leather seat cold on the backs of your fingers.

“I don’t know, I’m just not used to people liking the music I like.”

You laugh.

“So which one is it?” Billy asks.

You ignore him, pretend you don’t know what he’s asking.

“Is it James?”

Your grin is wide.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But Kirk is pretty too. Not that I don’t think they’re all pretty, because they are.”

“Pretty?” He snorts.

“Yes, Billy.” You’re feeling brave, happiness spreading through you because you got to talk about something you like—so you go for it. “You’re pretty too.”

Billy coughs, and you pat him on the shoulder. “That’s a new one,” he tells you.

“Well get used to it, pretty boy.”

————

You’ve only been in the record store for five minutes, but Billy can sense that you’re nervous. There’s a pretty good crowd meandering through the aisles, and it’s a Friday night, so that’s no surprise.

You keep close to him, and you worry that he’s bothered by it, but you really do feel better when he’s right there.

Billy watches you flick through a set of Journey tapes, notices when you seem to panic a little if he goes too far away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your eyes downcast at a stack of magazines.

“For what?”

“Being a buzzkill. I doubt I’m very good company.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice is serious enough that you look up at him. “You’re not a buzzkill. And you’re the best company I’ve had since I got here.”

You keep eye contact with him for a few seconds, realize he’s got freckles. That’s enough to straighten you out.

“Can we go to the back? That’s where they put the random shit they find and then it’s usually like fifty cents.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, come on.” Billy holds out his hand. He wiggles his fingers when you don’t immediately take it. “So I don’t lose you in the crowd,” he says.

You feel yourself burn, but take his hand, and his palm is rough against yours.

He leads you to the far end of the store, and you find exactly the thing you were looking for. You walk around awhile, looking at everything and nothing.

You see something, and when you go to grab it, you let go of Billy’s hand and move your own up to his bicep, where you hold on to him instead.

Billy likes you holding his arm better, he thinks. It feels more…intimate. Like you trust him. He’s not used to that.

When you catch him looking at where you’re grasping him, you squeeze his arm a little, just above his elbow. “So I don’t lose you in the crowd,” you say, giggling to yourself. You say it the same way that people day “duh,” and that makes Billy’s heart skip.

You pick up what it was that you saw: an Ozzy Osbourne bobble head.

“What did Ozzy do to them? This is fifteen cents, Billy.”

“Maybe they really like bats.”

That does you in, and the both of you start laughing, enough that you get looks, but neither of you care.

You set it back down and move on, though there really isn’t that much more to look at. Billy buys a Tank tape, and that’s all.

He tosses his bag in the backseat of the Camaro so that he doesn’t have to hold it, and then walks you back down the street towards the bookstore.

You lead the way through the aisles, through fantasy and then romance and then mystery.

It’s obvious to him that you’ve been here loads of times and that you have a plan. You also seem much more comfortable here—like it’s your kind of atmosphere.

It’s in the mystery section that you linger, though, and he watches you pick up the same book, read the blurb, and then put it back three separate times.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Billy.”

You crouch to look at another shelf.

“You should get that one you just put back.”

“I have plenty of books.”

Billy rolls his eyes and reaches for it. “This one, right?”

You look up, nod.

“I’ll get it for you then,” he states.

“Billy—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“Can it.”

“Janet,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Guess that means I’ll have to make you watch Rocky Horror.”

“I’m buying you a present, and you’re going to punish me by making me watch some chick-flick?”

You grab for his arm again, and walk towards the register. “It’s not a chick-flick, Hargrove.”

“Whatever you say.”

You watch him pay, and he hands the paperback to you on your way back to the car.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both get in, and he sits a second to let it warm a little. “Dinner?” Billy asks.

“Sure.”

————

Your mother is leaning against the counter, making herself hot chocolate when you get home. “Want some?” Her smile is contagious.

You accept, and she spins back around after turning the stove back on, realizing you’re holding something.

She wiggles her eyebrows, which she should really refrain from doing.

“Billy bought me a book,” you tell her.

“He’s a keeper.”

————

It’s been a couple days since your not-date with Billy. That’s what your mom is calling it, much to your dismay.

She’s gone out for a little while, and you’re reading that book the pretty blonde bought you.

You hear a knock and panic, because you don’t do well with unannounced visitors, but you go to the door anyways.

A look through the peephole tells you it’s Billy.

You pull the door open, and panic a little more because his eyes are glassy, though you can tell he doesn’t want them to be.

His hands are clenching and unclenching, and he’s not wearing a jacket, so he’s got no sleeve to mess with either.

“I’m sorry. Your mom’s car wasn’t here so I thought—it doesn’t matter. Can I—”

“It’s okay,” you stop him. “Will you come in please?”Something is wrong, clearly, and frankly, he’s freaking you out.

He doesn’t say anything, just follows you inside, lingering in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need you to promise you’re not going to flip out on me if I tell you.”

Your breath catches. What the fuck?

“Are you a murderer or some shit? Because I can clean things, but I am not that good.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, no.” Billy runs his hands down his face. “I need you your help. There’s a cut on my back, and I can feel it bleeding, but I can’t clean it up myself. I was going to ask you to look at it.”

You take a deep breath, start thinking about if you’ve got anything to fix him up with.

You turn around and walk towards your bathroom, leaving him there. “I’m assuming you’re following me,” you say.

You want to ask him what happened, but you don’t want to push either.

Because he came to you. And maybe that means something.

You crouch, opening the cabinets under your sink. You gesture vaguely behind you when you wear Billy stop in the doorway.

“Sit down for me, please,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, and though he can’t see your face, he can most definitely feel it.

You push the door open wider, and you come into view for him. You’re sat cross legged on the floor.

Billy watches you pull out a washcloth, some q-tips. A messy assortment of other things.

You look up at him. “Can you show me?”

He nods, and you stand, kicking the cabinets shut. You try not to stare as he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off of his shoulders. He turns so he’s sitting sideways on the toilet.

You bend to look at it.

It’s not horrible or anything, but you know it has to hurt. It’s more of a bruise than anything, starting to get purple around the edges, but he was right about the blood—though it wasn’t a lot.

There’s a thin gash above his shoulder blade. It looks like the kind of thing you get when you bump into something wrong and it scrapes you, leaving a cut just deep enough to draw blood.

“You’re not bleeding anymore, it’s all dry now. I’m gonna wipe it off, okay?”

Billy sniffles. “Okay.”

You turn the tap on and wait for the water to get a little warmer, not wanting it to be too cold for him. You wet the rag and then wipe the dried blood clean from his skin, rinsing the fabric and then repeating that process until it’s clean.

You feel like you need something to put on it. The placement is bothering you and feels more susceptible to getting irritated. You really don’t want it to bother him.

With a little more rummaging, you find some antibiotic ointment that you’ve used for knee scrapes before.

You put some on the tip of your finger. “This is probably going to be cold, I’m sorry.”

Billy nods, and is quiet the entire time you rub it over the cut. You try not to notice how warm his skin is under your finger. Or how his bare back looks.

“You haven’t asked,” he finally says.

You wash your hands. “I didn’t know if you’d want to tell me.”

You pull out one of those oversized bandaids. “It’s my dad.”

Your fingers freeze where they tear into the packaging, but you calm yourself before sticking the bandaid on him.

“He got pissed at me today, and there’s a bookshelf in my room. He slammed me up against it, and my shoulder caught on the edge of a cassette tape.”

You move in front of him to drop your mess of supplies into the trash and sit on the edge of the tub to listen.

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. He’s fucking hated my guts since my mom left. But I guess I’ve never had someone I felt like I could come to about it.”

You feel that everywhere.

You reach out and push a curl out of his face. “I’m sorry, Billy.”

You move to get on your knees in front of him so that your faces are level and take his hands. “It’s not your fault.”

His brow furrows. You say it again.

“It’s not your fault. I’m sure you think it is, but it’s not.”

His eyes are getting glossy again. “It might be though. If I’d just been different—”

“No. Don’t say that. You’re doing your best, Billy, and that’s enough. He’s an asshole and you deserve better.”

Billy nods again and again as if reassuring himself, as if trying to absorb your words.

“Hug?” You ask.

He nods again.

And you just hold him for awhile. He doesn’t cry, but you can feel him relax in your hold, feel him melt into you.

You think about how much it means to you that he feels comfortable enough with you to share this. That you’ve never felt this way before. This ache and this sincere passion for the well-being of another person.

You also think about how he smells like cigarettes and something fruity, which you assume is in his hair, and like his cologne.

Billy thinks about how he hasn’t been hugged like this since his mom. He thinks about something else he hasn’t felt in a really long time too. He wonders how long it will take for him to get the courage to tell you. If you feel the same.

Eventually, you pull away, and Billy pulls his shirt back on, grinning at you when your eyes linger on his chest as he buttons it up.

“Would you want to stay for awhile? Maybe for dinner or something?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

————

When your mother comes home, she’s not surprised that Billy is there, nor upset by his presence. She’s happy to see you with someone.

She may even have wiggled her eyebrows at you both.

But now, the three of you have not only eaten dinner, but heard every bit of gossip that your mother had to offer. It was after the bean spill that your mom dugout your very worn in copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show for you to watch.

“You know,” she’d told Billy, “when Y/N was a kid, I left her with her with Wendy and went to see a midnight showing of this. It was so beautiful, all of these people dressed up in this room just to watch a silly film.”

Billy hasn’t ever felt this welcome in someone’s home. Never even in his own.

He’s sitting on the floor in between your legs while you braid his hair and he watches Dr. Frank-N-Furter dance around with Columbia.

So, come up to the lab

And see what’s on the slab

You’ve been quiet mostly during the movie regarding talking, though Billy revels in your laugh each time Brad says something stupid—so it’s pretty damn often.

You’d also told Billy he’d look spectacular in a corset, and that was after he agreed to let you practice the makeup someday. He’d hidden his blushing cheeks from you.

“I see you shiver with antici…pation.”

Your mother is sitting in an oversized chair across from the two of you.

“She does that every time,” she tells Billy with the sweetest of grins on her face.

Billy’s hand slips under your thigh and holds on to your knee.

“Done?” He whispers.

You tie the braid off. “Yep.”

When he leans his head back in your lap to look at you, you can’t help but feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

And when he leaves that night, you miss him. You miss Billy Hargrove.

It’s been a long time since you missed someone.

You watch your mother clean up the kitchen before bed.

“He’s a grump, but I like him,” she says suddenly. “I can’t believe he let you braid his hair.”

You hide a smile, not quite believing it yourself either.

“I like him too.”

And she knows you feel more than that for him. She can see it.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[redspacegirl]

UPP OC BACKSTORY AND STUFF TIME!!! (plus occasional doodles)

plenty of this is spitballing, so i haven't fully cemented anything. it's all a bunch of yapping, so I'll put a tldr at the bottom to explain it in simpler terms lol. anyways,,,

Oakley moved to Deadwood when she was about 12. Right before the beginning of her 7th grade year. I feel like she definitely went down the fnaf to ghost hunting pipeline. I don't even know if that's a real pipeline, but it was for me. So she basically knew all the terms and stuff.

from what i can tell, upp was just a bunch of kids that liked ghost hunting, though ive seen the idea of all the kids in upp having ghost themed powers, kinda like wiwis but not as,,, wiwi. ill talk more about it later.

Despite knowing a bit about ghost hunting, Oakley would never have done it before. She lived in a highly populated area, not too far from the coast and one of Prime's big cities (I'm thinking near new haven, but NH might not be on the coast). There weren't any super old buildings in bike-riding distance for Oakley to explore. Plus one big thing with ghost hunting is that you dont! go! alone! (i'm really really tempted to make a post on how will maybe did this and it lead to him falling off a cliff. idk). Anyways, she's very skeptical of the actual existence of ghosts. This is one of the times I'm pulling out of my own life for that. If you've ever watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, she's Shane. She does think ghost hunting is very cool, however. (it makes sense to me, as a person who is a skeptic irl)

As I said earlier, she moved right before the beginning of 7th grade. She moved with her mom to live with her nana. There's a couple reasons for this. 1) Ol' nana silvia was up there in age, her mom wanted to keep an eye on her an all that. 2) If you can imagine, rent prices right outside of New Haven are expensive as fuck. And nothing beats the 2 acre backyard that Oakley's mother, Mae, grew up with. Like,,, sure the place was a little freaky, but that's most old places anyways.

So they move. Oakley is lowkey highkey pissed about the move. She understands, mostly, but she *really* doesn't want to move, obviously. Aside from the fact that she'd be leaving her friends behind, she's been on plenty of trips to Deadwood. That place is freaky. Mae convinces her that it's not really that bad, the house is old, it just needs some renovating.

obviously thats not the case. oakley continues being pretty much oblivious to the ghosts, blaming it on some weird noises or something until she finally comes face to face with one.

for my ideas on the whole ghost sight stuff. I like the idea that being able to see ghosts, even a little bit, is somewhat common in Deadwood. an idea i thought was funny is that Oakley could just,,, hear the ghosts *really* well. hence why she can be such a skeptic while everyone else is like "WHAT THE FUCK IS THTATTTTTT". otherwise, her being a ghost beacon would be really funny. like she walks in a room and the ghosts in said room are able to interact with people/objects or talk more. finally, she could just have normal sight idk.

Around the current point in PD, she's just graduated high school. I think she ended up staying in town for one reason or another. I have a few ideas. I think by the time she graduated, she still didn't fully know what she wanted to do, hence why she stayed home. She's currently 19 ish, taking college courses online while she keeps and eye on her mother and the nearby ghosts. She probably still hangs around the upp who stayed around. Probably will come up with more stuff in the future.

OTHER STUFF: -She skateboards, though Deadwood is a lot of gravel roads, so it's kind of difficult -draws a bunch. if you didn't see my other post about her, she draws on her pants and whatnot. -she paints her nails on occasion before forgetting about them and letting them chip before she repaints them months later -she was that kid that always said "im leaving this town right after i graduate." (me core) -indecisive as hell -can be pretty sarcastic, to the point it gets annoying sometimes. she tones it down as she gets older.

TLDR: Girl with ghost sight moves to live with her grandma in 7th grade, realizes she has some sort of ghost sight, shenanigans ensue.

[prinnamon]

How do you feel about the BMS Hev Suit? It's my personal favorite design out of every appearance but I can see why people would be upset with the creative liberties Crowbar Collective took with the design.

-LHLP

OHH this is such a good question to get in my askbox... one that immediately made me boot up Black Mesa so i could get screenshots to answer with. im smiling. im grinning

it's probably pretty easy to figure out that my favorite model is the one from the PS2 port, & i think i knew from previous posts on your blog that the BMS suit was your favorite. i love Black Mesa (2015) as a game but sadly, and im very sorry to say it, i do not love the HEV suit from that game :'] it has qualities that i like, but overall it misses the mark for me!

oh, that was an accidental pun. misses the Mark... like the Mark IV HEV suit. hehe

i'm going to put the rest of this post under a read more... i don't say anything suggestive under the cut unless you count like 1 very tame passing remark about the Mk V's hip plates. but this is quite a long and rambling post because i think about the HEV suit so much & want to be in one so bad & have taken a costume visual development class so i ended up having a ton to say ^_^ !!!

i think i was a tad biased against the BMS suit from the beginning when my good friend who started playing Black Mesa before i did pointed out that it looks less like a Mk IV and more like "a modified Mk V." i think it was right on the mark with that comment, and that's probably the source of most the things that irk me about the suit

pictured, in order: HL1 suit, PS2 suit, HL2 suit, BMS suit

i know the HL1 and PS2 renders being in 3/4 view while the HL2 and BMS suits are viewed straight on is unhelpful since this is meant to be a direct comparison, but i'm getting these images (excluding my own Black Mesa screenshot) from Combine Overwiki, which doesn't have a 3/4 view for the Mk V or a front view of either of the Mk IVs!

when you look at them all next to one another, it's pretty clear how the BMS model uses the Mk V as a base as opposed to upscaling one of the Mk IVs or creating one from scratch based on its prior iterations in games and promotional art. i have nothing against the Mk V, but the Mk IV is my true love. to me, the BMS suit is like the Mk V with a Mk IV coat of paint.

however! i do want to rattle off a couple things i feel the BMS suit got super correct. the accordion joints look exactly as they should. they're all the same color (it irks me a little in the HL1 model and promotional art when some of them look more copper/red while some of them are black), and they're present on both the elbows and torso where they belong (HL1 doesn't have them in either area and PS2 is just missing accordion joints on the elbows). i adore how and metallic they look in the PS2 model, but it raises some questions about what material they're made from and whether such a material would actually be both flexible and durable. in BMS they look like they're made of a tough synthetic fabric, and that makes perfect practical sense.

and, really, i have to stress that none of my complaints matter all that much, because Black Mesa positively nails what is objectively the most important part of the suit: the gloves. after the HEV suit's introductory scene and all the way up until Xen, you don't see any part of it but the hands and forearms since the game is in first person. and the hands and forearms are perfect. i don't think the player character's hands have ever looked better in a half-life game. incredibly nice to look at, i think.

it knocked those elements out of the part. sadly i have a bunch of nitpicks about other aspects of the design which don't appeal to me as much as the other iterations of the Mk IV!

most of the areas that were shiny and silver in the original Mk IV have been replaced with a black material that has a more matte texture. it could very well still represent metal, but it's always looked to me more like hard plastic or vinyl. i really like the appearance of the Mk IV's shiny metal parts, probably because i love the texture of metal in real life and it looks like it would feel so so so nice to touch. the change of material is a downgrade for me :[

additionally, some of the elements which felt really three-dimensional in the PS2 model look flatter in the BMS model. i liked all the visible grooves and seams of the PS2 model. by comparison, in Black Mesa, those details either look sanded down or are entirely absent. i think this is most evident on the lower half. the vents on the outer part of the thigh plating take up significantly less surface area, and they also look quite a bit flatter. the boots are missing all the detail they used to have, without even the orange plating on the top of the foot. it just... looks like it'd be less fun to run my hands along, because there's fewer unique textures, fewer seams you could trace with your fingers.

the control panel... it really is just slapped in the empty space left under the lambda logo in the Mk V. i love the way the buttons are set deeper into the chestplate in the PS2 model. In BMS, it's level with the rest of the chestplate and has raised buttons. seems like that'd make it easier for them to be pressed accidentally, which would pose some practical problems. and the black and silver part under the control panel... there just isn't any basis for that in any of the art or models of the Mk IV except possibly in the HL1 promo art of Gordon Freeman if you squint.

i find the level of detail in the greaves kinda disappointing, but to tell the truth, i don't think i like the lower legs of *any* of the suits, so now i'm not even truly complaining about a problem unique to the BMS suit. the ideal HEV suit greaves exist only in my mind. the two silver pieces in the front, though... i really think they need to be interpreted as some kind of closure, or else they're just purposeless greebles. on the Mk V, the function of these metal pieces is not evident based on their appearance, so that area ends up looking confusing and visually cluttered. this is carried over almost 1:1 to the BMS suit. every HEV design kinda breaks down when you think about how it would be put on and taken off, but looking at the front of the greaves on the Mk V and BMS suit *really* reminds me of the fact that this armor just does not make a lot of sense

lastly, i think this is probably a less a popular opinion, but from a design standpoint i do prefer what i've heard people refer to as the "metal diaper" situation in the HL1 and PS2 models over what the BMS suit has going on down there. essentially, they've stolen the Mk V's love handles and then put a sort of rounded flat piece over the groin area that has always felt out of place to me. it doesn't speak to any other part of the design; it's not echoed in any other area/element (which is the same gripe i have whenever a suit design's accordion joints aren't consistent).

i think that's most of if not all my issues with it! to be honest, i really don't think i *have* seen a perfect HEV suit model in any official or unofficial Half-Life game. i'm in love with the PS2 model, but i still think there's things wrong with the greaves on that one, and none of the suits has any visual indication of how a wearer gets in or out. a lot of my dislike for the BMS suit in particular is because i'm a massive fan of the Mk IV, so to see a suit that purports to be the Mk IV when it really has more in common with the Mk V is a disappointment. like i said, though, you really don't see much of the suit in-game, and the gloves are spot-on, so the model achieves the main goal it needs to achieve. i just can't get into it as much as i'm into the PS2's Mk IV.

i hope this seems fair and wasn't much longer of a reply than was warranted :'] i don't want it to seem like i'm trashing your favorite suit design, LHLP, because i can still see the things you like about it even if it doesn't resonate with me! anyway thanks so much for the ask because i really enjoyed getting to answer it. i hope you have a good one!!

[dustorange]

I really was interested by what you said in your post about WFA outselling the main comics and canon/fanon. Do you think the fanon characterizations are pretty much on point for canon characterizations or then at least redeemable?

Well, so the thing with Fanon DC stuff and why it exists and why it is so pervasive is that 1) PART of it is a function of the medium—I.e., lots of people know Batman, through movies or shows or now TikTok and ao3, without having read 80 daunting years of comics, so people take a shortcut (very reasonably) (fanon) whereas others HAVE read 80 yrs worth and want to discuss canon and 2) PART of it, the larger part in my opinion, is that fanon Dick Grayson or fanon Tim drake or whoever are NOT really in any way approximations of their canon counterparts anyway—instead they’re just the same default character archetypes you see across other fanfics and fandoms. They’re a little bit painted to be the DC characters (features like Patrol, Pit Madness, etc.) but otherwise it’s not really a special character at all, just an archetype or something, just someone’s vague sort of immature cartoony characterization of a Good Happy Big Brother or Neglected By Parents Anxious Panic Attack Boy. You can see exactly those same characters—with the names scraped off—in any other fandom’s fanon. And in lots of contemporary shows or books. Everybody does the same stuff. With the same weekly social media jokes etc. The same 2024 up-to-date politics uniform among the characters. And characters are the exact same across so many different things because it’s just what people jump to and know how to write! Because we’ve grown up with those archetypes! It’s just like how EVERYBODY’s first stories involved Mary-sue-like qualities. Or how a trademark first fic for EVERYBODY is a very teenage angst victimfantasy or everyone Realizing They Were Wrong and Apologizijg or Grieving Their Loss Of You. It’s like the universal teenage girl fantasy. And it’s a loooot of people’s first stories me included probably. And that’s why an essential part of talking about fanon people has to be cut with the fact that fanon people ARE VERY YOUNG. Like teenagers. Not all of them. But a lot of them are veryyyyyyy young and there’s a big Pro Being A Hater contingent on here and i have laughed at many a Tim drake shrimp allergy meme but omg I should not have bc that is rly cruel and people are really truly harsh and I know if someone made some meme about how bad fanon writing is about a fic i put genuine work into, I would feel sooo crushed so with all of this preface before the actual answer is to say WE SHOULD BE NICE TO FANON PEOPLE BUT:

no, fanon really is not redeemable and it pretty much does not have any, even accidental, grasp on or insight into the dc characters. as far as i’ve seen. These ARE complex characters and they’re tough to nail. But fanon is not dealing with those characters, just sort of empty characterholes that are the same regardless of the fandom. Fanon is really a snowball that began snowballing in a whole different zip code from canon. And then there’s a whole different question of What Is A Dick Grayson or What Is A Bruce Wayne like is there a true essence to be gleaned from comic books and stuff and I think the answer is YES. But also something ive been thinking about is that everybody picks and chooses, even selfprofessed canon fans, and says No I Don’t Consider This Canon or In This Fic I Changed The Timeline And Ignored This Arc And This Run Because It Is OOC and I think if we’re really talking about being rigorous and tied to canon it’s GOOD to force your stuff to be in line with canon, even with canonical aspects you don’t like, because pressure, limitations, and rules make you much better than just getting to do whatever you want at all.

[archaiceuphoriah]

hi your writingbis so incredibly sweet . i keep coming back to it all the time :-) i believe youve already done a little story for me and i just wabted to thank you a lot . i especially loved the recent crayon one it really hit home . ive been getting in trouble with my mom lately for biting my nails and she isnt nice about it at all and its very sweet to imagine how it coukd be . sorry for the random little tidbit and thank you so much again 💙💙💙

Oh, thank you so much for sharing. And thank you for your story prompt, you all have such wonderful ideas. Hm, I'm sorry you're having a hard time. Nail biting usually relates to nerves; maybe try chewing gun or using a paci? Or finding a fun activity to distract yourself. I know it can be hard, I tend to pick at my nails when I'm bored. Painting them pretty colors usually keeps me from doing that too much since I don't want to mess them up! I hope you have a good day! <3

[0ddity]

i really hate being someone who bites my nails. ive been trying to stop by painting my nails (the nail polish is bad for me obviously and it tastes bad so its not pleasant to bite at) but it hasn't been helping as much as i'd hoped ://

like. idk ..... being a nail biter has been something ive been like. annoyed & ashamed of for a long time so i rly want to quit but it feels like i go thru periods where i don't do it for like 6 months or so then i start again so idk what to do to fix it and just stop overall cuz i always end up doing it again even if i don't realize i'm doing it

also i feel like every time i try to quit it i think about my rly shitty ex and how he said that his sister stopped "because she wanted to one day" and i feel even worse abt myself ;_; ik that's not a reasonable way to feel esp bc both my mom & my stepdad bite their nails so i grew up around it constantly and also bc of my anxiety but GOD. sorry it feels good to bite at my nails even when they're only a few days grown out like rn.... like i know it's not attractive to others at all or even necessarily good for me to bite at them but i just. end up doing it in the end.

how do i stop....? do any of my mutuals have advice... sorry for the rambling post im a little drunk rn but i rly wanna know if anyone has any tips on how to stop biting my fingernails