#tw young smoker

[thewritersaddictions]

First Kiss: Billy Hargrove- PassionFire

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Talk of virginity, implied smut, 18+, First Kiss, talk of mean/abusive ex-boyfriend, helpful friend, sweet Billy, fluff, smoking. drinking, soft!Billy.

Summary: You’re hurt by your now ex-boyfriend when he breaks up with you for not giving up your virginity; Billy is more then willing to help

A/n- Fireflygraphics for dividers

WC- 2.5

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Series Master List // First Kiss Master List

The tears hadn’t stopped, for hours I had been crying my eyes out. I knew why Jamie had broken up with me but I couldn’t really imagine why it was hitting me so hard. He and I had the talk about the fact that I wasn’t really comfortable with giving up my virginity, or truly anything that stripped my virginity away from me. Espically not when he was drunken mess from the lunch date earlier. 

Had I walked all the way to Billy’s house? Yes, I had walked all the way toward Billys. I hadn’t meant to just walk out of my house. Well maybe I had, my mind was clouded and I wasn’t able to think about anything other than needing someone, a shoulder to cry on. 

I had only ever been to Billy’s once or twice. Nothing more then to tutor him, a one off exchange between the both of us. I was tutor him once a month and he would help me with othe basic things. If I thought about it he was the one that introduced me to Jamie. I knocked on the front door only once, before i rang the doorbell. I could hear the rock music playing in the house at volumes I doubt his father or stepmother would allow. “What the hell do you…” The door had opened Billy was standing there. In nothing but an old beat up white tank top, and his signature jeans. 

“Y/n?” He questioend, he was aware of the tears I had running down my cheeks. Or tears that had stained my cheeks. “Billy I know that I’m here unannouced. I just didn’t know where else to go and Jamie he… well Jamie broke up with me.” I said in a ramble of mixed words. He kept his eyes on me for only a moment before the anger swept through his facial expressions. I had a quick moment of doubt, a moment of realizing my mistakes of trekking down to his house on Cherry Lane. “Billy… I’m sorry I think it will be better if I just leave.” I said hastily. Before I could turn to walk away he was grabbing my arm pulling into the warmth of the house. 

“Did you walk all the way here?” he asked his voice a little horse from what I would only guess he was trying to push down the anger. I only shook my head and then he was slamming his bedroom shut. His room smelt of cologne and smokes. Something that always had my head in a twist. “Why would you not just call me? You know I would come and get you?” He asked, to many questions and my own thoughts were cloding my already foggy brain. The bed was softer then I imagined it would be and it bounced as I moved on it. 

“Hello Mcfly? Are you there?” Billy asked waving his hand over my face. “Yeah I’m here. I just I’m sorry I need a second?” The words tumbled out of my mouth and the urge to cry was boiling over in the back of my throat. “Goddamn it Y/n.” Billy said throwing a punch into the air. “I’m sorry. Okay I’m sorry.” The tears had started to run again, I’m sure why or why I had even walked my sad ass all the way towards Billy’s. 

Billy hadn’t yet looked over at me up until that moment. “Fuck I’m sorry Y/n. I just don’t know how to deal with you know.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Of course the crying I forgot.” I said. I looked over at Billy for the first time. Looking at the sharpness of his jawline as he sat down beside me. I brushed the tears from under my eyes, and breathed hard. 

We sat in a cold and harass silence for a little to long. The room growing smaller as it more and more uncomfortable. I wondered where his parents where, and where was his witty red headed stepsister. I was dragged out of my thoughts when I heard Billy ask me a question. “So, if you don’t mind telling me what happened?” He asked, as he got up from the spot next to me and grabbed his smokes. 

Billy wasn’t always the most emotionally supportive friend or really a good friend at all. I had seen the small arguments that his father and Billy would get into. Things would be thrown, voices would get louder then normal, and punches would go flying normally hitting Billy in the chest, stomach or square in his perfect face. 

-

Did I mind telling Billy what had managed to happen. To have me to end up at his door on a random night. No, I honestly didn’t mind that’s why I had walked all the way here, to talk to someone about it. To let it go into the air and away from my over thinking mind, that was currently mualing it over. “I don’t mind Billy. Just promise you won’t go crazy on me?” I asked. I licked my chap lips, and looked over at him. He was ever so sightly taller then me. No matter if we were standing or sitting down. 

He sighed heavily, like my requests was a rather hard on to swallow down. “Yeah I promise.” He said exhaling a puff of smoke. So my story from earlier in the day began. “So I guess I should start earlier in the day right.” I said looking down at my hands. My fingers dancing between the fabric of my shirt and messing with my short nails. All I heard was a small hum for me to continue with my story. 

“Jamie and I had just gotten back from a lunch with his friends. You know the ones from the basketball team?” I asked, but continued on. “So we had gone and everything was okay. Jamie had picked me and was all gentlemen like. I don’t know how they managed it though, somehow where ever we went with Jamies friends they were able to get some sort of alcoholic drinks. I wasn’t sure of what kind, but I’m not a drinker. I never have been, so instead I watched as the boys and their girlfriends who were to prim and proper to know just how disgusting day drinking was. Drink and drink til their hearts were content.” I said, taking a slow breath, looking at Billy he was still interested in the story. 

“But a subject was brought up during lunch today. A topic that you don’t normally talk about in fucking public or with other people who aren;t in your relationship. Jamie had been asked how good of a fuck I was, and if I knew what I was doing.” I said, my words getting caught in the back of my throat. To be honest as I talked about it outloud the words seemed dirtier, and heavier then before. 

I shook my head and continued on with my my heart breaking story. “He laughed about it, telling everyone that I was prude, and didn’t ever really staisfed him at all.” I chortled, not that it was funny or a joke at all. Just sounded funnier now that I had time to think about his words and just how stupid of a guy he truly is. “Are you sure this is Jamie that you’re talking about? The same Jamie I know?” Billy asked me raised eyebrows in wonder. 

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and please just let me finish and then I’ll get out of your hair.” I said with a huff before returning to my story. It wasn’t like there was much, beside the argument we had in the drive back to my house, and the argument we had before he broke up with me. There wasn’t much more to tell. 

“For the rest of that god for saken lunc hI sat in the uncomfortable silence of his friends girlfriends speaking about me like I wasn’t there and him and his friends laughing about the fact I was still a virgin. I hadn’t even kissed him yet.” I said. “We left not shortly after, and the car ride was horrible. I wasn’t able to hold it in any longer the anger boiling and finally tipping over the edge. I yelled at him as he drove me back to my house. He called me a prude once again and then a bitch for not just  giving him what he wanted.” I said my fingers twitching within my lap. Looking down at the carpeted floor. The stains from whatever Billy brought into his room had seeped into the flooring. 

And for the first time in the entire day I smiled. “The fighting didn’t stop, not even when he followed after me half drunk into my house. I tired to push him away but he wasn’y having any of that. So, he grabbed me tightly around the wrist.” I pushed my sleeve up showing the growing bruise that was caused because of his grasps. “I did try and get away Billy. I screamed at him to let me go and pushed him away, until his cold and dark eyes looked back at me and told me that he never not once in out entire relationshoped loved me, and that I was better off alone. The lost and little lamb that I was, was better off alone because nobody would want such a prude like me.”

It was silent for a moment before I started to speak again. “You know the rest Billy.” I said with a shurg of my shoulders. I was tired the crying, and screaming taking a lot of me. I sat there still, before I felt Billy’s rough hand touch over both of mine. “I knew I shouldn’t have shared you with my friends.” I heard Billy whisper out, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle into my skin. The touch was intimate for many a reason. But the most obvious one was the simple fact that Billy wasn’t one for touch, or any true sign of emotion. 

“Shared me?” I questioned. Shared me what the hell did that even mean? There was no pretending that the crush I had on Billy was ever going to go away. The crush had grown and been growing even through I was dating Jamie. “All of those damn guys are just pricks. Not to mention their dumb, dull girlfriends.” Billy said, his hand still resting into my mine. Thumb still rubbing soothing circles into my hand. 

“Yeah I get that, but what do you mean share me?l I was intrigued more about what the implications of his words meant, not by how his words made me wanna melt into his sheet. “Just be honest with me Billy. I’m a big girl and I can handle it.” I just for once tonight wanted the truth.whether it was cold and harsh or  made me feel giddy. I don’t know what was happening all around me. This felt like a hazy dream that I had dreamt a million times over. He deeply stared at me, a few whispys of his golden hair falling infront of his forehead. They were distracting me from another part of his handsome face. Those sky blue eyes that somehow pierce right into your heart. 

A heavy sigh left him before he composed himself. “I just mean that… you’re were my friend first ya know. I shouldn’t have let you out for the wolves.” Billy said. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, and the grip he had on my hand was getting stronger. “Billy? Please.” Was all I had left to say. The truth, please just the fucking truth that’s all I had been searching for all day long. 

“Fine, you want the truth don’t you. You can’t just leave it at the front door can you? Fuck,” Billy said voice growing deeper by the second. His eyes casted down to my bruised wrist. “I should have just kept you for myself. Treated you better than some asshole who clearly doesn’t doesn’t know who they have in their arms.” It was like pulling teeth with Billy to just get him to talk about the simplest emotions. 

I wanted to laugh, but that felt wrong. This must be a true joke right. Billy would never, never fall for the innocent, shy girl that was only his friend because he got something out of it. Right? “Now you’re tight lipped.” Billy commented as I had gone silent. I went to say something but things wer eswirling around in my head. “That’s okay. I get it, big bad Billy can’t help but like the girl that’s to cute for her own good. Who lets people walk all over hee. I should have protected you from an asshole like Jamie, but I thought that you would never. I mean never take a liking to me. I was a dick to… well to everyone. Maybe you alrady knew that, but then you still end up here at my doorstep. So, that must mean something right?” Billy rambled on. 

I was in shock for to many reasons at this point. Was he was rambling because he was letting his guard down, the millions of walls that he had built. He was still talking, but I wasn’t paying attention to the endless flow of words that were falling out. I was paying attention to how his tongue jutted out and licked over his lips. A shiny glaze making them glisten in the little light that he had. I didn’t know what was happening, not even after I started moving towards him. 

His hand was still on mine, so I leant in. “Billy.” I whispered. “Will you stop talking and just make up for the lost time.” I begged in barely a whisper. That signature smirk crossed over his rambling expressions. He reached me. A hand coming to cup the back of my neck as he leant down and pressed his lips against mine. 

The kind of kiss made me feel like the time around us had stopped. It wasn’t a kiss that I would ever be able to explain to my friends. It was like stars had aligned, and everything for just that one moment was perfect. Billy had taken my first kiss, and when we broke away from each other. That signature smirk hadn’t left his face, he was very cheeky. “How was that for a first kiss huh?” He asked. I rolled my eyes, “How about you ask me later. Like I said you have to make up for a lot of lost time.”

I winked at him, before going in for another deep and lustful kiss. This was going wherever it was supposed, without any further pushing on either of our parts. He pushed me down onto the mattress. His free hand roamed down my chest and found a spot on the side of my ribcage. Billy’s other hand stayed on my cheek, holding me closer than before. 

Completed on: 02/05/23

Posted on: 02/06/23

The Adults- @yourfavdummy

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for telling my brothers that their dad is dying?

TW for child abuse, death, and cancer.

I have a lot of siblings, but the only two I talk to anymore are two of my half brothers (R and K. R is 13 and K is 19, I am 26). They share the same dad, while the rest of my siblings either share my dad or were adopted by my dad. The three of us share the same mom while the rest of my siblings do not. This is semi important information (it might not be but it seemed relevant).

Growing up, their dad abused the three of us and our mom. He was a chain smoker and an alcoholic who would hit us, throw things at us, scream at us, chase us, stolen from us, and he's been sexually inappropriate with me on a few occasions. So needless to say, I dislike this man a lot.

I was talking to my mom today about her financial issues. Their dad (T) was not paying her child support. I asked why and she said that T works a summer job, he doesn't get paid in the off season. I said "well, why doesn't he just get another job? He's qualified for quite a bit and he's still young enough" and my mom said "it won't matter since he's not gonna be around for much longer". That threw me off guard, and I asked her what that meant and she told me he had lung cancer. It's inoperable and the doctors said it's bad enough to where he could go from stage 1 to stage 5 in a matter of weeks. That's all the information she told me, I don't know anything more than that about it.

She told me that he hasn't been seeing the boys at all lately. He's just stopped spending time with them. She told me he hasn't told them about it, and that he told her not to tell them either.

Now I'm sitting here thinking that, they deserve to be told that their dad is literally dying? And could be dead any day now? Especially since he's denying them the opportunity to spend time with him before he goes. He's a piece of shit, but they love him and they did everything they could to let him have a second chance at being their dad. And I feel like he's wasting it on feeling bad for himself, instead of showing the boys that he actually like, cares about and loves them if he even does.

Im considering giving her an ultimatum, that one of the OTHER adults in this situation needs to be the one to tell them because they deserve to know, K is especially old enough to understand what's going on. Or I'm gonna do it for her. If she wants to force their dad to tell them, fine. If she wants to tell them herself, fine. But if neither of them do it, I want to tell them. Because I would want someone to tell me if my dad was dying. My dad abandoned me for 18 years but after I met him, I still loved him, even if he was an asshole a lot of the time. I would want someone to tell me.

But part of me still feels like this... Isn't my place to say. That it's not my fight to be putting into, that I shouldn't be the one to tell them. It's not my battle. But it's still my family. A family I care deeply about. And I'm just especially worried about K.

So WIBTA if I told them their dad is dying?

What are these acronyms?

[rookie-lou]

Cars AU (humanized) Let’s call it: “Can’t Say Goodbye“

(TW, death, only temporary though)

Imagine a mix of Back to the Future and Cars. (With Back to the Future logic)

Lightning has been in Radiator Springs for a few years. Doc is the most important person to him and he can't imagine life without him.

He breaks down when Doc tells him after a doctor's visit that he only has a few months to live. Lung cancer. He was a heavy smoker. Lightning had always told him how bad it was that Doc didn't even try to quit. Doc always said he was too old. It's already too late. The doctor said for his case the smoking did affect his lungs.

Doc dies and that day a part of Lightning dies too. Lightning is at Doc‘s bedside during his last breath, holding his mentor’s hand.

Doc wrote him a letter shortly before he died. He gave him a record with a song.

Lightning can't bear it. Days go by and he isn't able to live at all.

He goes into Doc's garage and sees the Hornet they never drove. He cries and holds the letter to his chest while sitting in the car. He finds a small note in the envelope that he hadn't seen before.

"If anyone can persuade me, it's you. Smokey couldn't." There are instructions on the back. Hornet is a time machine that Doc had finished building to travel back in time and to prevent his accident. He had spent his whole life building it until Lightning came into his life. He finished it but he never used it. He didn't have to use it anymore. Lightning had completed his life.

Lightning doesn't believe it at first but then takes a ride with Hornet. The date from a few days before Doc's accident is saved in the car. Doc had saved it there.

Lightning goes back in time and can hardly believe it. Since he is still in Radiator Springs, he sees the old Radiator Springs in its heyday, Sheriff, and a few of the others who don't recognize him of course.

He sets off for Thomasville and arrives on the day of the accident. He is shocked to see Doc and Smokey young and he can't even show himself. He gets emotional as he sees his mentor alive.

He manages to prevent the accident from happening, and immediately drives back to the present so as not to be recognized but everything is different.

Doc never came to Radiator Springs. He became more famous and drove with Strip Weathers. There was no tiebreaker race because Lightning never became a racer in the big leagues. Small things had a big impact and he never came to RS, never met Sally or Mater or the others.

He's lonely.

He watches Doc‘s letter disappear in his hands.

He doesn't know what to do but then decides to travel back in time and sabotage the race. He didn't do it on purpose but it was too much. He watches his mentor die again.

He travels back again and has to be careful because he exists three times now. He manages it and Doc has the accident like he had in the normal story. Lightning stays in Thomasville, befriends Doc as he has to watch his mentor, who is exactly the same age as him, fight his way back to life after the accident. It’s hard to see that.

Doc started smoking after his accident. Now it’s Lightning’s mission to stop him and show him what’s really important, without preventing him from ever escaping to Radiator Springs.

Note: To be honest, I kind of feel like writing that, but I always said Doc never dies in my stories. It would have a happy ending though, so technically…

But I think it would destroy me if I wrote this story.

I’m also not good with time travel stuff. Like, if Doc in that one timeline never built the time machine… wouldn’t it disappear too and Lightning can’t go back again? Or am I now completely wrong, lol.

Also, Doc - Doc, Monty - Marty, McQueen - McFly.

Put Marty in a red suit and I’m convinced it’s McQueen.

Also, tell me what you think.

[napsfork-brainrot]

GIVE ME EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR SILLY LBB OC GRRRR

Also here's some arts

OHHH I LOVE THEM RAAAAGHHHH!!!!!!!! I'D LOVE TO SHARE MORE ABOUT ITZY!!!!!

but TW: there is child a**se, implied sexual a**se, eating disorders, and overall bad family dynamics

aside from that, please enjoy my lil biker girl!!

Itzy Bonnet was considered the odd one in her house when she was growing up, but that was quite ironic considering who she lived with. A neglectful whore of a mother and a grandfather who would get too handsy.

Itzy's mother, Ida Bonnet, was a smoker who cared more about her finances and her sex life than her daughter. Despite neglecting her daughter and even letting her grandfather do things to her, Itzy still to this day believes that her mother did actually love her. Even though her mother and grandfather had both caused her to develop bulimia from a young age, she still believed her family did love her despite all of the harm they were causing her.

Of course, growing up in such an environment and being denied any actual help caused her to grow up to be very dependent on other people and struggle to ask for things, whether they were wants or needs. Ida eventually got to the point where she kicked Itzy out a few weeks before her 19th birthday, claiming that she was "a big girl now" and "can't rely on mommy anymore."

With no education (due to being homeschooled up until 8th grade but never actually finishing school) and no work experience, Itzy had to just wander around town for the most part. She lived off of scraps and whatever food people would give her, but she would feel too guilty and usually purge whatever she ate. She would find shelter in many alleyways or dumpsters in the city.

In @spoonsilverwire and I's sort of lore, we've established that her OC would find Itzy and basically "take her in." (Moreso kidnapped into the gang, but Itzy is pretty cool with it aside from having to be taught how to ride and being forced into actually eating and taking some better care of herself.)

NOW WITH THE BAD STUFF OUTTA THE WAYYYY..... HERES SOME FACTOIDS 🤓☝️

Itzy is a natural light blonde, much like Dice and Jatay.

Despite claiming to be "tough", she's absolutely not. She tries her hardest, but... ehh, she still needs a lot of training.

She likes everyone in the group, surprisingly enough, but her favorite to least favorite is (excluding other OCs): Jeff, Varai, Jatay, and then Dice.

Varai and Itzy are age regressor besties. However, Itzy is more of a sleepy regressor than Varai is.

Itzy can be a crybaby at times, but usually only when it comes to being picked on by other gang members. If it's another gang or just some random person, she takes it in stride and will usually give some sort of snarky remark or comment.

Do NOT tickle her, it is like fucking KRYPTONITE. She will be floored from a simple poke on her sides.

But that's all I have right now, and THANK YOU FOR SHOWING INTEREST TEEHEHEHEEHEHEE BYE :3c

[alexina-bucket]

Tw: mentions of smoking, abuse, rape, and a lot of bad family stuff under the cut!

Im attempting to draw timekeeper/432's past, but for now while my drawing motivation is gone take me yapping about it (also partially trying not to upset myself)

Timekeeper used to be 432 and his name was Ash Brewer (shout out to my mom for helping me with his name, she balls) and he came from a troubled past, to say the least.. Ash is also trans, he's non binary but goes by he/they (after he became timekeeper, they don't mind he/they/it either) but for now im focusing on ash.

From a young age his family was abusive and treated him badly, both his parents were heavy smokers and they did not want him. They were homophobic and transphobic, so this didn't help his case.

From (if I remember my own information right, I need to start keeping little character files) the age of 5-13 he was abused by his parents, mostly used as an ashtray by his mom. He looked the most like his dad and his mom also didn't like this. She was white and pale with pin straight hair, while Dad was Hispanic, tan, curly hair. Ash had vitiligo, which his mother also hated.

He has scars along his shoulders mostly from the cigarette burns his mom caused, his dad did a lot less to him physically. His had has anger issues and would easily snap at him and his mom, each time he'd just go out for a smoke after and disappear for hours on end.

His dad would often try to persuade or ask ash to smoke with him (which he declined every time). Ash also got raped by his uncle (I keep forgetting the age I made him when this happened kill me) so I'm gonna say at 11...

He also has a brother that was the favorite golden child, he got good grades, was smart, never got detention, yada yada. This is also a reason he was treated so badly.

Because of all this he has trauma and has a lot of issues. Bringing up smoking or cigarettes and things like that can bring up a trigger for him (sometimes leading to panic attacks) and he is also touch starved but at the same time scared of people. He gets very confused with touch, and in an au where he is able to interact with Stanley any sudden touches or movements from Stanley causes him to get frightened but he also wants to lean into the touch he craves.

He moved out of his house when he was 18, he got a job after school /night shifts so he could afford it. A little while later he joined the office (that would later be the parable), got top surgery, and a couple years later narrator deleted everyone (except for ash who failed) and started the story.

Anyways this is my child, I love him dearly and I traumated him ❤️

[dawn-likes-cigarettes]

{Dawn Wilson Information}

My name is Dawn Wilson. I’m 18 years old and I’ve lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma my whole life. I’m a drug addict, which I wish I could change but I can’t help it… I occasionally drink and I live with my brother with his wife and kid.

OOC: GOT INSPIRATION FROM @s0dap0p-curt1s :3 I made this for fun to have more information lol 🐭1. {Basics} 2. {Appearance} 3. {Personality} 4. {Relationships} 5. {Interests} 6. {Background} 7. {RP information}

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☆Full name: Dawn Holly Wilson ⁃ {Nicknames} ⁃ Dusk; it’s the opposite of Dawn lol ⁃ Hollandaise sauce; her middle name ⁃ Kid; cause of her height ⁃ Little sis; by Austin ⁃ Pretty little grease; by male socs ⁃ Whore/slut/hoe; by female socs ⁃ Drunk/smoker; by little kids that have terrible parents (cause they don’t pay attention to their kids) ☆Age: 18 years old ⁃ {Birthday}: June 5, 1949 ⁃ {Zodiac}: Gemini ☆Gender: Cis Female ⁃ {Species}: Drug addicted human

☆Sexual Orientation: Lesbian ☆Nationality: American, German background ☆Ethnicity: American German ☆Hometown: Tulsa, Oklahoma: North side

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☆Occupation: Waitress; does not pay well so her brother gives her money

☆Religion: unreligious; parents are Jewish-Germans ☆Languages: ⁃ English ⁃ Some German, but barely

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

☆Height: 5’4” ☆Weight: 95 lbs ☆Body type: petite, curvy

☆Skin: ⁃ {Texture}: soft, a little dirty ⁃ {Tone}: tan ☆Hair: ⁃ {Color}: golden blond ⁃ {Length}: middle-back length ⁃ {Style}: always down but swept to the side

☆Eyes: ⁃ {Shape}: Doe ⁃ {Color}: light light blue ☆Scars: ⁃ Not a lot of scars ⁃ Practically scratches now ⁃ Cigarette burns on her thighs ☆Piercings: two piercings each on both ears ☆Accessories: ⁃ bracelets ⁃ Rag outside her back pocket ⁃ Usually wears a headband when she’s feeling pretty 😋

☆Clothing style: Dirty (dirt and grease dirty) casual

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☆No drugs personality: ⁃ mean, quiet, compulsive liar, a bitch, cranky, hateful, stubborn, isn’t toxic or abusive, dramatic, suicidal ☆With drugs personality: ⁃ nice, loud, childish, still a bitch but a bad bitch, stubborn, happy, positive, dramatic

☆Positive traits: street smart and positive ☆Negative traits: stubborn, forgetful, and cranky, suicidal

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☆Habits: ⁃ Extremely hard drug user ⁃ Constantly getting hurt physically ⁃ Very addictive smoker ⁃ {tw; self harm} Cutting self ☆Pet Peeves: ⁃ extremely rude ⁃ Toxic relationships ⁃ Ignorance

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☆Usual first impression: ⁃ nasty drunk but is actually a smoker ⁃ Mean and carefree ⁃ Disrespectful ☆Fears: ⁃ fear of losing family ⁃ fear of boredom ⁃ fear of old men ⁃ fear of dying too young ⁃ fear of being forgotten (OOC: same)

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☆Mother: Martha A. James ☆Father: Unknown

☆Siblings: ⁃ {Brother}: Austin K. Wilson ⁃ {Sister-in-Law}: Jazzlynn K. Wilson ☆Niece: ⁃ Marygold E. Wilson

☆Grandparents: ⁃ Thomas F. James ⁃ Cleo H. James

☆Friends: ⁃ Ponyboy Curtis (only met once and now Pony thinks they’re best friends. Wtf bruh)

☆Lover: ⁃ no one yet, does have a crush on a girl named Callie Collidge (eh eh, see the reference hehe)

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☆Likes: ⁃ smoking ⁃ Teasing ⁃ Cookies ⁃ Flowers ⁃ Self control (but she herself cannot do that…) ⁃ Parties ⁃ Compliments ☆Dislikes: ⁃ Quiet rooms ⁃ Leprechauns (Staar…) ⁃ Calming environments ⁃ Reading ⁃ Church (it’s boring to her since she’s not religious)

☆Hobbies: ⁃ {Music}: Rock, Metal, loud, head-banging music ⁃ Shoplifting ⁃ Pretending to be a cowgirl ⁃ Smoking ⁃ Dancing aggressively

☆Talents: ⁃ can surprising make extremely good food ⁃ Being a bad bitch ⁃ Can get high and after 2 hours, is back to normal

☆Skills: ⁃ Fights ⁃ Shoplifting ⁃ Flirting ⁃ Getting burned and not caring; high pain tolerance

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

☆Favorite people: ⁃ Austin Wilson ⁃ Jazzlynn Wilson ⁃ Marygold Wilson ⁃ Jibril Wa’el (thinks of him kinda like a father figure :3) ⁃ Staar (only cause they are a hilarious duo) ☆Least favorite people: ⁃ Launcey Williams (only cause she’s kinda rude) ⁃ Dallas Winston (he’s annoying) ⁃ Curly Shepard (same as Dally) ⁃ Tim Shepard (he’s like an old man)

☆Tolerable people: ⁃ Angela Shepard (she’s okay just judgmental towards EVERYTHING) ⁃ Johnny Cade ⁃ TwoBit Mathews ⁃ Steve Randle

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

☆Background: ⁃ {childhood}: ⁃ She was constantly bullied for being fatherless. ⁃ Of course Austin was a butthead as a kid as well, being 16 when she was 6. ⁃ Their mother was a drunk and constantly had panic attacks. ⁃ {most of teenage life} ⁃ Same bullying but their mother went into a coma, leaving Austin as the “parent” of the house. ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

☆RP Information: ⁃ {is it open?} ⁃ Yes!! It’s always open!! ⁃ {what am I comfortable?} ⁃ I am comfortable with nsfw, sfw, agere, petre, anything as long as it’s not pedo, rape, or anything like that. (I also do angst.)

OOC: Hello it’s @i-like-ratsssss !!!! Hope this give enough information, it definitely did for me so I can go back to this and see what to tell people 😭

[fletcher-braley]

Fletcher Braley He/Him. Cis Man. Thirty Two.

full name: Fletcher Owen Braley nicknames: Fletch birthday: Twenty Third of March, 1992 current residence: Bighorn Hills time in providence peak: about 5 years 5 months - arrived October 2018 sexuality: Bisexual occupation: Bartender at Crane Bros Distillery face claim: Logan Lerman

positive traits: observant, intuitive, down-to-earth, amicable, supportive, compassionate negative traits: passive, melancholic, indulgent, compulsive, insecure, pushover

— HOBBIES

reading comics - fletcher doesn’t have a favorite superhero or anything of the sort, it was just how he passed time before he made his friends in Philly. If he finds any now, he still loves to indulge on the colorful pictures and art-based storytelling. hiking - the woods and mountains always feel like home, and that’s probably because when he was out there, he felt unseen by society. the only people who mattered were the friends he was with. jogging - it’s a calm activity to do that helps him to blow off steam when he is particularly stressed. cooking - this goes back to him learning from his mother, who he was close with. he loved cooking with her, and that love for the activity lives on to this day. he isn’t gordon ramsey level by far, but he can whip something decent together on a whim.

— FAVORITES

food - scrambled eggs with tobasco and breakfast potatoes drink - tito’s & cranberry juice (alcoholic) & sweet tea pink lemonade (nonalcoholic) movie - the never ending story song - all these things i’ve done by the killers color - forest green

— HABITS

social smoker after a few drinks [cigarettes] / likes a good weekend bender [alcohol] / occasional consumption of anything that comes from the earth [drugs] nervous ticks include chewing on his bottom lip, wrinkling his nose, and shifting from foot to foot, subtle stutter if he’s nervous

— PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

height : 5′9" tattoos : n/A scars : small one on the left side of his chin from stitches, surgical scar in his right wrist from surgery after a nasty break piercings : n/A hair : dark brown with a wave, if it gets long enough (and it often does because he gets lazy about trimming it) it curls on the ends, around his ears and at the base of his neck

— FASHION

clothes - simple t-shirts, hoodies, long-sleeve baseball tees, sweaters, straight-leg jeans, bomber jackets, jogger sweatpants for lazy days, nothing attention grabbing or flashy, absolutely no tank tops ever shoes - vans or work boots accessories - simple industrial bracelet bought from a tourist shop

— HISTORY

(car accident tw, alcohol mention, drug mention, teenage pregnancy, abortion mention, loveless marriage, unhealthy family dynamics)

Fletcher had been the fourth son born to a couple in Blooming Glen, Pennsylvania. With a seven year gap between Fletcher and the last born boy it led to him being excluded from older activities as well as taunted by the two middle sons just all for the fun of it.

His only solace was his eldest brother who had matured faster than the other two, and his mother. And oh, Fletcher most loved his mother, who was soft and tender and was the only one who would focus on him when he tried to talk at the dinner table. He did his best to linger behind to help clean up after meals and stick by her side because she made him feel known. Every day his father had to come look for him to try and put him to work around the farm.

Now his father wasn't a kind man. Not to him nor to his mother. Never was domestic violence an issue in the household, but even at as young as five years old Fletcher understood an absence of love in their marriage. His mother was a quiet and timid woman so looking back it made sense why she stuck around, but then he'd always wondered and he'd wonder more so when he got the brunt of his father's nasty side brought out by his habitual drinking.

(One of his brother's would say it had been because Fletch had been the son of the milk man. The other would insist he’d been dropped off in a FEDEX package. He never understood either at that age.)

It was when he turned twelve that he decided he was fed up with how things worked in his house. He packed his duffel bag and walked off the farm to never look back, finding a bus stop and taking on to Philadelphia. His father lividly reminded him their house didn’t have a revolving door despite his mother’s pleading to get him to come home. As much as Fletcher missed her, he had no intention of returning ever.

In Philadelphia, Fletcher’s aunt of his had a spare bedroom - his mother had contacted her sister to ensure he had a roof over his head. Fletcher always knew even if it wasn’t said that she was doing her best to keep him taken care of, and he had a good relationship with his aunt anyway. This opportunity granted him the chance to build life in a busier city, immerse himself in public schooling, and to finally seek out his purpose.

Fletcher wasn’t a star student with a low G.P.A., struggling with Cs and Ds (his only A being his phys. ed. class), which left him unqualified to join any after school sports. Instead, he spent most of his time sitting on the floor of a local bookstore reading comic books. Socially withdrawn, it took almost a full school year until he made his first friend that introduced him into a bigger circle.

Fletcher found he adored each and every one of them, hanging onto every detail of the stories they told and admiring the caliber of life they all experienced. Aside from that they also brought adventure into his life in the form of spontaneous late-night drives, getting drunk on hiking trails outside of the city, and eating their weight’s worth in fast food after midnight. It was all simple, but it was more than he got to be involved in while in Blooming Glen.

In that time, Fletcher had also met his high school sweetheart. He may have been only sixteen, but he was sure he found The One. The unraveled around their senior year, when they were both eighteen and a positive pregnancy test brought two very different reactions from them. Fletch, wanting to keep the baby, and his partner wanting freedom in her future. Her decision to go through with a medical abortion clashed with his excitement turned disappointment, and it created an irreparable rift. They didn’t last long after graduation. 

Fletcher aimed for community college, but that lasted about a year before he dropped. He lost his drive and immersed himself in the same late nights filled with drunken antics that he indulged in while in high school. At twenty, he saved up enough money to get a snug studio apartment outside of West Philadelphia. He sought employment at the nearest tavern and started as a dishwasher, then moved up to bartender within the year.

With no goal in mind, Fletcher stuck it out there. It wasn’t until a late night out resulting in a car crash he was involved in that he figured out what he’d want to do. 

Someone ran a red light at an interaction and t-boned the car his friend had been driving. Fortunately there were no fatalities, but the car was a goner and one of his friends in the back seat sustained injuries that required a trip via ambulance to the nearest hospital. Firefighters needed to pry open the door as they had been pinned, and the EMTs rushed around everyone to make sure each and every person involved had been taken care of. Fletcher had nothing but a wrist sprain and bruised ribs, but watching them work inspired him to pursue that field. He wanted to help people.

Volunteering on the local EMT squad confirmed that idea, and then Fletcher began paramedic school. For a few years he managed to keep a job on the rig where he happily pulled long shifts even over holidays. Weekend social outings put a stop to that plan when eventually his irresponsible behavior led him to showing up to paramedic school hungover one too many times, and he was expelled from the training and released from the EMT squad at the age of twenty four after testing positive for marijuana consumption due to the use of it being illegal at that time.

He was back at square one and stuck it out as a bartender. It wasn’t all that fulfilling, but the money was good enough. The restlessness inside of him had to be ignored when responsibility was needed to keep off the streets. Fletcher just found value in his friendships and the experiences shared with them for the time-being.

However, he began to feel stagnant, and in due time Fletcher decided to make a move. Before his thirties, he decided. It would be worth it to experience other parts of the world. First he tried Colorado for a couple years when he was twenty seven, the nature and entire vibe something fun. He’d been there before, visiting a friend, and settling down in Providence Peak had been the perfect opportunity for a fresh start.

— HEADCANONS

✧ Fletcher does know how to ride a horse, and he knows basic homesteading. Very very basic, as he'd been young when he dipped out on the cattle farm. I.e. canning, making dummy pickles, growing a small herb garden over the back of his kitchen sink. ✧ One of his favorite places to visit in Philadelphia was the Mutter Museum. ✧ Fletcher is a very enthusiastic Philadelphia Flyers fan, and he loves Gritty — as can be seen in the various bits of Gritty apparel in his closet, the coffee mug in the cabinet, and the sticker on the back of his car. ✧ Fletcher is allergic to strawberries. ✧ He will only drink Fiji water. No Smart water, no Dasani, no Poland Springs or Deer Park. None of it. He wants Fiji. ✧ He's terrified of spider crickets (or camel crickets, whichever is the name you know them by). ✧ Once he moved out to Providence Peak, he sold the compact car he arrived in to replace it with 1990 Toyota Land Cruiser for, you know, woodsy things. And he liked the old vibe of it being an upkept, thirty year old vehicle. That being said, the hood doesn't match the rest of the car in color, and it isn't great in terms of gas mileage, but hey. ✧ He has a three year old German Shepherd mix named Boone that he lets roam the property of the cabin he lives in. Being he chose one closer to the hiking trails, it is more secluded, and he figured a dog for protection would be wise.

— CONNECTIONS

I am down for most connects. Fletcher can use any friends from the last five-six years he has been in this town, and as much as I think the boy can't have a malicious bone in his body, I am down for any negative connections. I am not looking for any endgame romantic connections at this point, like to work on natural chemistry. I also don’t do any sort of pregnancy plots - scares, accidental, etc. - on a whim. For anyone looking for messy, he might not be your boy, but we can see what we work out.

Loose ideas for connections:

- Any new friends he's met over the years since he's moved to Providence Peak. - Neighbors in Bighorn Hills. - Someone Fletcher simply tolerates - whatever has caused disdain between the two would be talked out. (1/1) ** taken by @foster-notmatty - Almost maybe in terms of dating. Maybe he'd met someone, and it teetered close to something but ended up being nothing. this is not an end game scenario in the works (1/1) **taken by @deanchaiyachet - The one off hook-up. Limited spaces for this as he is more of a commitment guy, sleeping around isn't something he aims to do. I'd say (0/2). - Regular patrons to the distillery he works at, the sort he knows all the fun background details to as those who drink tend to talk. A lot.

— CURRENT CONNECTIONS

♡ @reggiefalvey - friend met by chance in reggie's travels, now current roommates in bighorn hills. reggie is a breath of fresh air, and a constant reminder to fletch that sometimes he needs to just live. aside from the ever running tap contributing to the growing water bill, and all the bruises he's gotten walking into cabinet doors left open, reggie's been a welcomed addition to his home. ♡ @sagefranklin - tbd. ♡ @estherclements - met through reggie, current friends and a fellow experimental cook in the kitchen. ♡ @theaxharris - met through his patronage at holy spirits, built a repertoire. ♡ @dylan-westwick - fellow nature lover, hiking buddies, and adventurers of the Colorado wilds. fletch adores the twins just as much, and he likes to steal her away for the usual activities as much as time permits. ♡ @dilanxbarak - met her through a dog park, though he learned her dog's name first (woops), and makes time for doggie playdates around town and on the hiking trails. ♡ @emelinecormier - what started as simply bumming and wagering pool bets for a cigarette outside the various bars in providence has turned into emeline being one of the first people fletch sends a text out to if he's wanting to go out for a few drinks. ♡ @rachelhargrove - boone menaced walter as a puppy, and now fletch enjoys bringing (a much larger) boone back around so he can chat with rachel and be a fellow proud dog parent with her. ♡ @foster-notmatty - kinda sorta ran in the same circles in philadelphia, but didn't necessarily get along. it wasn't that they hated one another, they just rubbed one another the wrong way. so fletch simply tolerates foster. ♡ @cynthiafalvey - it's less about the fact they shared a kiss and more about all the little moments that built up to it happening. more the, the fact that after it happened, it's seemingly been swept under the rug. fletch doesn't know where he stands with cynthia at this point, and it isn't like he's hopelessly wishing for something to come out of it, but he just wants the weird dance they do to end so they can be back to normal.

— LINKS

pinterest: [ link ] soundtrack: [ link ] personal playlist: [ link ] inspo tag: [ link ]

[ddejavvu]

Saw someone on here that wrote genderbend!marauders, and I just started thinking of how much the marauders would be disliked if they were girls...

Because James is like confident and extremely social and those pranks would def not be seen as funny

And Sirius is too cocky and would be ‘slut’ shamed for sleeping with everyone and way too reckless

Remus wouldn’t be seen as this cool and mysterious smart guy, they would’ve been rude and a know it all and way too closed off

And Peter would be too shy and just a dumb girl who doesn’t do anything besides what her friends would tell her to do, instead of a sweet, fierce guy (okay Peter is still not really like too much, but young Peter is...but ya know)

okay so tw for some rampant misogyny, and a very cynical take on how the marauders would be treated if they were women.

THIS !!! i saw a video on tiktok over a year ago that was a prompt for stitches/duets. it was a girl asking us to come up with one thing that a woman wouldn't be made fun of for. At the time, I thought I could do it. Obviously misogyny is a raging issue, and i was not downplaying it at all, but i figured there had to be something i could think of, right? nope. over a year later and i still have yet to think of a single thing women won't be made fun of for. it's disheartening, and i think you're so insanely right that the same traits women are made fun of for, men are praised for.

now lets translate m!marauders into f!marauders and see what rumors are floating around the halls of hogwarts:

m!james: outgoing, cocky, the best player on the co-ed sports team, rich family (complimentary), 'unkempt' hair (so curly he can't get a handle on it)

f!james: a loudmouth, full of herself, a woman player being better than men on her own team?, rich family (derogatory), unhygienic: does she even have a brush?

m!sirius: heartbreaker, broke away from an abusive family, smoker, rebellious for skipping classes, cool for the way he dresses, dry sense of humor, reckless

f!sirius: slut, fatherless, nic addict, lazy, weird and 'emo', rude, crazy

m!remus: mysterious, casanova, aloof, quiet, intelligent, strangely sick once a month

f!remus: unapproachable, a homewrecker, too serious, 'needs to smile more', meek, nerdy, oh my god, does she really keep missing class for her periods? it's not that bad, she shouldn't skip so much.

m!peter: chubby, the beloved sidekick, maybe not the smartest in the bunch, always good with jokes

f!peter: don't get me started on the names she'd be called for being plus sized..., a mary sue, bimbo, the fat funny friend.

and of course, all of this is not to say that those rumors are valid at all, it's to point out the difference in how women are treated up against men. i personally love genderbent marauders headcanons or fics, this is no criticism to them or their portrayals, i am just a cynic and i agree that it wouldn't go over well outside of fanfiction.

as my conclusion to these types of things always is: god, they're lucky they were born boys.

[pipsterz]

Lux's experience within a marine office.

A OP OC fic.

TW! Body Dysmorphia.

Khari Mane, one of the prestigious ladies of the Kholodian upper classes, reduced to an office worker. She let out a warm, irritated sigh before pressing a callous palm to her face. With a gentle push from her foot, she began to rock her chair to and fro on its back legs. Shifting through piles of bland and repetitive paperwork. "New pirates" being pushed to one side of the desk where she would proceed to ignore them until told to do otherwise, "Nuisance pirates" being sorted into the second pile where she would have to do her research into them for future assignments. Couldn't be too careful after all, especially considering she didn't grow up anywhere near the four oceans.

And finally, "Old pirates", the pile that remained untouched for close to a year since she'd been assigned to paperwork. With an interaction with Baroque Works putting her out of action for a short while, this was the only way Smoker would have her working despite many protests from the younger marine. The pile consisted of exactly what a marine was to expect, Edward Newgate, Charlotte Linlin, Kaido and finally, Shanks. It was a pile she wished to shred, but still had to organise every now and then.

Khari then placed her feet down, letting her chair return to the placement it had before she started swinging on it. She rose, shifted her shirt to get it comfortable, fixing her tie, trying to keep it straight to the best of her ability. As she turned towards the window, her gaze caught at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes uncomfortably the wrong colour, his colour. Trying to ignore the obvious ploy by her mind she turned towards the window, forcing open the door piece to let in some fresh air. That's just what she needed.. air. The feeling of being stuck in an office was suffocating, and not just because of the smoke her flames created. The feeling of knowing she wasn't helping as much as she could was just— a small reassuring click as she took out her lighter, clutching a cigarette from her pocket, before raising it and taking a drag from it. It was a bad habit, god, Harley would yell at her for it later.. but she needed it.

That's right, Harley, she would be putting the kids down for a nap about now, Khari was so lucky to have her.. sure she may be a bit of a loudmouth and a drinker but she was soft with the kids when she needed to. Alongside being the person keeping Khari from taking her children into a battle torn workplace. Maybe once Khari had finished her deployment she could see Harley.

Leaning against the wall near the window, Khari once again found herself gazing towards the mirror in the office. In her reflection, leaning against the wall was not her, but her father. His smug grin with a cigarette pressed to his lips in the exact same position Khari was resting in, she shook her head mumbling to herself a soft reassurance of:

'He's not here, you're Lux, you're not a Mane here..'

With a soft jingle of the bracelet resting on her right hand, she was brought back to reality, the mirror reflecting truly. A nervous child, pushed into a military background too young, with a pair of hands resting reassuringly on her shoulders. Khari immediately turned, swinging towards the figure her mind so constantly taunted her with, resulting in a crack in the wall, a few stains of blood now marking the spot on the wall as Khari's attention then shifted to the numb yet odd sensation of blood dripping from her knuckles. After burning her pain receptors away when she was a child, Khari struggled with injuries, underestimating their risk or permanent repercussions to her injuries.

'He's not... Not here Lux, calm down, you're acting irrationality..'

She let out a soft sigh, pressing herself to the wall in an attempt to calm herself, before her mind began to replay comments from him, over and over and over.. until she turned to face the mirror.

In a rage-stricken state, Khari found herself gazing dead into the eyes of her father, freezing up, it was almost as if he was standing right in front of her. No, that was what Khari saw, to her.. he was really there. His smug grin changing to a calm and demeaning glare, followed by the words that had haunted her since she joined the marines..

'No daughter of mine would insult her pride as much as to lose to her own father while proving a point,'

'You are no daughter of mine,'

Then she blacked out, her body acting without any thought, out of pure unbridled fury, leaving her to swing, yell, sob. She let out a roar of Kholodian insults towards the reflective father, before the sound of glass crashing alerted the other marines nearby.

And the only thing they saw upon entering the office was a sobbing Khari, mumbling in a language they could not understand, surrounded by shards of glass and a mirror obviously having being shattered due to brute force.

There she sat, sobbing, like an unprotected child, a cigarette pressed into her hand while glass and blood fell from her palm. She was so scared, yet she found no one to ease this pain. She truly was, just what she feared to be, her father's daughter.

[mericalovesss]

18+ audience only - tw(s): cigarette smoking / non - smoker influenced to start, blasphemy, & organized religion - edited by: Bazzle

|”Yes. You would be sharing a secret that is not your own. To abstain would be more holy than to tell him. Now, if you find my habit disgusting enough that you would like to leave…”

“No! That’s… not what I mean. I don’t want to leave. That’s why I won’t be telling him.”

“And?”

“…because it would be gossip, Father.”|

.little blurb. His virtuous devotion to guide lost souls to righteousness is deferred upon meeting a young woman being sheltered to her detriment, opening his heart to the most selfish and carnal sins.

.author’s note.

full story “finished” and posted to literotica almost exactly a year ago (august 30, 2023). i will be uploading parts / chapters in small dumps of 3 or 4 at a time with there being 14 in all, including an epilogue. changes and tiding up will be done as I go, so the final version on wattpad will be an updated cleaner one (fingers crossed) comments / feedback on either site, or even in private messages, would be so so greatly appreciated.

thanks and i hope you enjoy!

~<3 sisi

[alexa4devilsxo]

name: Ruby Batista age: thirty-three birthday: august 11, 1988 gender & pronouns: cis-female & she/her orientation: heterosexual relationship status: single hometown: Tonopah Valley neighborhood: downtown

occupation: ATF Special Agent affiliation: la asociación for los santos

Quick Intro: tw: gambling, corruption, alcohol abuse,

Ruby grew up with a single father who was always drinking and gambling their money away. Her mother left because she wanted a life that was better - richer and more pizzazz, which Ruby's dad simply could not offer.

To stay alive herself, she started working odd jobs from a young age. Super markets, petrol stations - anywhere where they would take in a child because she needed things for school, to put food on the table and clothes.

When she was fifteen, she came home to find her father murdered brutally - his throat had been slit and thought the same people who killed him were going to come for her.

Ruby fought new intruders only to be taken in by Camilo - a man not responsible for her father's death but one who promised her he will help her get her revenge.

Camilo taught her how to fight, how to shoot, and how to be clever in life. Between they decided she was going to become an AFT agent so that she could help Los Santos, thus becoming an associate for them.

Trained tough and hard to get to where she is now. She obtained bachelors, took physical, mental tests and polygraphs in order to get into the system. Thus, becoming a mastermind in manipulation.

Finally, was stationed back in Tonopah Valley. While elsewhere - she simply gave information about trackings and movements of different agents and different roads. Now, she's able to give heads up to raids, etc.

Headcanons:

Is an avid chain smoker

Has a Doberman named Prince of Hell , Prince for short

She is very good at manipulating who she needs to be - in appearance and mannerisms

Can speak Korean, English and Spanish fluently

Has tattoo’s but not in places people could easily notice

[cwarscars]

[ ✨ ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

⤿   HEADCANON MEMES; COMFORT CHARACTER EDITION!   TW: death, family, religion.    

[ ✨ ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

hmm, when you say 'aesthetics'; my mind immediately goes to graphics. but, i guess to talk about both that & general imagery while writing - my mind on heidegger always comes back to certain things;

booze // always a big one. not so much binge-drinking / a glass of wine 'with the girls', but more-so a lone shot of whiskey at night. a bottle of brandy tucked away in a draw. the light-scent of a spirit on the man's coat ( beneath a thick waft of aftershave ). the relief that comes with a drink at the end of a night of work ( or rather, at the beginning of the day ).

cigarettes & smoking // i've always written heidegger as a social smoker. he always liked to share a cigar with shinra sr - as a young man, he would sometimes smoke with friends / other soldiers as a means of a light rebellion. i imagine he doesn't smoke excessively enough to smell of cigarettes or have a cloud of smoke in his office. it's more, like, he smokes whilst interrogating people / after sex / socially etc.

war & battle // this is obvious. i see heidegger as more than just a warmonger, he's a man who's lived it. he's been there, done that & thrives in a fight. he craves battle & bloodshed. not just others, but his own. aggression & war will forever be a part of his aesthetic. the heat of adrenaline, the rapid drum of his heart; blood warm when it's shed.

long nights alone, insomnia & night-time hallucinations // a darker one but i imagine heidegger spending many nights alone. lying in bed with a gun in his hand. no means to use it but its there just in case ( just in case of a burglar, right - ha, r-right? ). a large glass window / door that overlooks the outside from his bed. he watches the dark as if to expect to see something. all he sees are ghosts.

tension, red & the heat that comes with rage // he's a ticking time bomb. almost entirely tense, entirely on edge. rarely at ease & constantly aching for a fight. he's a man further than the end of his tether. his jaw is always clenched tight, his brows always furrowed. heidegger is always tense.

regrets in the form of old photos // torn-photos of a young, wide-eyed looking soldier. the cracked frame that contains a picture of daughters much younger in the pictures than they are now. a picture-book that hasn't been updated in years. a locket with secrets contained within it ( the seal rusted shut & the chain long-broken ).

[pyr0vents]

TW Mentions of: SA, abuse, grooming, suicide, self harm, drugs/alcohol, sexual innuendoes, mental health

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Introduction

Hello I’m Scott, this is my vent account separate from my main @pyr0man1c to keep my mental health away from my happier and jokey posts.

My account is 14+ due to my age and content (16+ is what most people find suitable but I myself am not 16 so it feels kinda hypocritical)

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From my bio:

‼️My vents may be triggering to others due to the severity of my mental health, I will add warnings as needed to prevent people from seeing content they don’t want to see or may be hurt seeing. Please be aware I cannot get help currently, I live in America and do not have health insurance or healthcare, I do not have access to therapy or medication due to this, telling me to get help is pointless as I am aware I need it but can’t get it. I am in a very sensitive state and may not take well to certain things, please be mindful of that and all I have said, thank you‼️

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Any art about me being Groomed/SA’d or abused by an older figure, is not something that has happened to me.

To explain, I have been SA’d 3 previous times by 3 different people at 3 different ages and 2 different places.

Because of this trauma, it has caused a response to have a desire to be brutally harmed and abused by someone, I am aware this is wrong and that’s why I try to express it through my art to get the bad thoughts out instead of acting on them by putting myself in situations where I would be harmed.

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The drugs is the same.

It was not actually caused by exposure to drugs or alcohol at a young age, it is connected to the desire to be abused, the desire to hurt myself and get put in bad places, including stuff like drugs or alcohol. The only drug I’ve ever actually considered doing is Nicotine and possibly weed but I think the second hand smoke from growing up around a smoker dad kinda caused that.

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Self harm and suicidal thoughts are something I’ve dealt with since I was 10, it’s nothing new. The newest thing from it is the weird sexual pleasure to self harming I’ve gained. (I have so many sexual problems lol) I honestly have no idea how this one came to be and it’s a mystery to me.

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Now into a me introduction now that the important stuff is done!

My name is Scott but you can call me Scotty

I am Queer FtM and Ace-spec

My pronouns are He/It

Im 14 turning 15 in December!

Im an artist and animator on my YT

Main YT:_kbil_nzrmx_

Vent YY:KbilVents

DNI

Bigots

Transphobes

Homophobes

Racists

Pretty much anyone who wouldn’t like a queer trans man who hates himself and hates everyone on this list.

Please be respectful of those around you, whether you agree with them or not, we are all entitled to our opinions and thoughts. Don’t be creepy with underage people on here if you are 18+ and mind what you say to me and others especially considering how I am very vulnerable on here and very obvious mentally unstable!!!

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[ii-viixx]

tw: venting, self-harm/sh, blood mentions, mommy issues ranting (if that’s an actually trigger, sorryyyy), family issues, ect

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sorry for this long ahh vent or wtvr the fck i wrote was. also idk i jst started to add other stuff to it, i got bored & jst wanted to vent even more. sorry if it doesn't make much sense, its 4 in da morning

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Why’d I let him do that. Did it even happen.. ?? Every day that I don’t speak about it,, or when I do it feels like guilt swallowing me whole. Was it real? Was it real? Was it real? Was it real? FUCK…. Or is it another of my little ass stories. Fuck, I’m so stupid. So very stupid. FUCKKKK !!!! UGHHHH. Why’d I let him touch me,,,, he touched me he touched me he touched me he touched me… Maybe??? IDK,, I wanna rip the skin off my flesh & cry.. fuxking start laughing like the fucking Joker when I do. Did it even happen? Did it? Did it? Did it? Did it? Was it real Was it real was it real was it real… I lwk be feeling like that one line, it went smth like: “pretty enough to be sexualized, but not pretty enough to be loved” 🤯 Lmfaooo (am I going crazy???? idk am i am i am i am i am. no im not… right? maybe i do need mental help, maybe I really do…). I get stared often. It’s strange but I sometimes like the attention. I sometimes think that I’m not worthy of love. It’s weird being horny almost all the damn time? is it cuz i’m a teen or did my constant exposure & most likely SA experience fuck me so bad that I became hyper sexual???

.. Gosh, I feel like a freak whenever I think of myself in that way… yk that reminds me.. when I was younger, around 7,,, I was taking pictures or jst plain staring at my budding chest… Even though I wasn’t deflowered, I still felt like my petals fell anytime I was stared at by older men or getting touched by him,,, Him him him.. Him. Did he did he did he did he? I need answers. Maybe I’m just sick in the head for thinking he touched me,,, did he? Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. In the end we were jst kids. Enough abt that. Let’s go onto how I became who I am today. I grew up to a single mother. Typical. My dad left us before I was even born (rude but whatevs). We moved at least 3 times before settling down. Whoo… She was a fucking mess my mom was a mess. A pretty heavy drinker & smoker. I was surrounded by it from her, her boyfriend (now ex), his lil friends & maybe hers? idk. She used to kick me out & lock me out the door, I got used to it but I got lucky if her ex decided to open it for me. She was abusive, physically, maybe ? idk but i’m pretty sure she did. I blocked out a ton of shit from my childhood 💀 growing up she used to call me names & hit me even tho i didn’t do nothing. wrong. She’d talk to me abt her feelings & venting. (Wow way to do a number to a fucking 3yo). She’d vent abt her troubles. I had to learn how to feed $ dress myself when she didn’t want to. I don’t think she likes me as a person but she definitely loves as a daughter. So hypocritical, but sometimes so am I. Ive come to realize that I’m almost like an exact copy of her. from her face, hair, personality, the way we present, ourselves, up to the way we fucking talk. My family even says so. But as much as I hate to admit, I can see the almost uncanny resemblance, well obviously i’m aware of the whole: ’YoU’Re boUnd to LooK liKE YOur MoTHer, yoU cAME fROm hER’ ik that but it’s annoying to hear it almost every fucking day, I live & breathe. It’s annoying as shit. But that’s also why I was piercing & highlights. Jst to have at least some type of different between us, jst so I can’t hear other ‘OMG!!! U look *jst* like ur mother! Like a little mini-her’. It was cute the first 3 or 7 times, but after what.. almost two decades of hearing that sentence. It gets pretty annoying. What I despise equally as much is when ppl say ‘Dang you looked jst like her sister’ (towards my mom). She looks pretty young yea, but it’s annoying too. Though in the end. I love her, I’m proud of her. She’s really trying to better herself, and whatnot. But fuck, please for the love of god; go to therapy woman. U need it, I need it, even nana (grandma) needs it. Almost everyone in my family needs ts. We’re all fucked up in a way. more shit cuz y not.. i started self-harming/sh around the age of 3-5. It was jst simple: hitting myself, hair pulling, scratching, bruising. I did it when I got stressed w home life, when I was angry, sad or jst felt like it. I stopped for a bit, but then it was a whole cycle once more. On & off typa things. Though,, one summer after going crazy abt whether to cut or not. My friend showed her twt feed, I saw video after video of ppl cutting, slicing, bleeding, ect. I was skhakjng, basically tweaking out like how Tweek from SP/South Park does (not exactly but similarly). I bit my tongue. After the skool yr was over, the first official night of summer, I decided to grab a pencil sharpener, unscrew the blade & I gently swiped it across my thighs. No blood, it stung like crazy doe. i barely even cut the skin. That’s when I started to go a bit deeper, jst out of the blue. That’s when I hit blood, no styro tho. Something went over me & I went deeper, pushing the blade onto my arms. I checked the wound. My first styro, my heart was racing, pounding. I was excited. I did even more styros, some a bit deeper than others. I still have every scar to show it. Even the little 4 straight-ish ones that look like little slopes or rows of corn.

[songsofadelaide]

Waltz of Four Left Feet

cw/tw: no curses/law school AU set in the 2020s, slice of life, unmotivated lawyer/law professor!higuruma x ??? female reader, established relationship, smoker higuruma headcanon, yuuji as higuruma's favourite student/law apprentice, yuuji spitting facts and meddles with the best of intentions, flashbacks of a meet-cute-ugly, inaccurate depictions of law school life, fluff, did I say slice of life already? (lol) + another marriage proposal. wc: 1.1k

"You do know that with your current knowledge and experience in the field, you're on the right track to becoming a great judge. Think about it, will you? Brilliant ones like you don't come around too often."

Hearing superiors, colleagues, students, and strangers alike sing his praises did not stroke his ego at all. More than anything, Higuruma felt a dense weight on his shoulders. Apart from being a lawyer himself, he was an educator, and he felt equally responsible for ensuring his students have the right knowledge at hand when they become lawyers themselves in the future.

And he was fine with that. Becoming a prosecutor? A judge? Those were far too ambitious for him to consider, let alone even think of. Until…

"That's not a bad idea, Higuruma-san. If you become a judge, you'll have more than enough to marry your girlfriend and provide for your family."

Well. That's another way to look at things.

Higuruma was taking a short smoke break in between his classes when one of his favourite students approached him with a chilled canned coffee in hand.

"Are you done with your readings, Itadori-kun?"

Educators shouldn't favour one student over another because it clouds their judgement, yet it was hard not to be drawn to Itadori Yuuji's enthusiasm for the law profession. The young man had enough promise and ambition for them both, and Higuruma made it his personal mission to mould the boy into a lawyer who would be praised just as much as him.

"And you've been with her for how many years now?" The younger man continued as he counted with his fingers, ignoring his mentor's question. "You really should be stepping up and proposing to her or something."

Higuruma breathed his cigarette deep and let out a drawn out exhale that seemed more like a sigh of frustration. "You really think I don't know that yet, kid?"

He first met you in a local coffee shop some years back after you both accidentally spilled your coffees on each other. Instead of being pissed at him, you laughed off the incident as a simple case of bad luck, something you obviously both shared on that day since it wasn't just you drenched in an Americano. He was equally soaking in your favourite latte.

And like a sunflower drawn to the warmth of daylight, he was easily charmed by your bright optimism— very much so that he didn't think twice when you asked him for his contact details (to pay him for his suit's dry cleaning).

Your second meeting at the same cafe wasn't so bad if not for the barista switching your drinks. You laughed it off as you drank your latte with his name on it, somehow tasting sweeter than the usual.

They got it right the third time. You guys were regulars by the fourth.

Higuruma once made the mistake of taking some of his law firm's apprentices to the very cafe you frequented and none of them were able to figure out why he froze at the entrance and urged everyone to find someplace else to have coffee.

Everyone except Yuuji, who followed his mentor's gaze and found a woman smiling at him from across the cafe. His attention to detail was both a boon and bane for him, and a stroke of bad luck for his professor, who unknowingly revealed his most well-kept secret. You could only laugh and shake your head as your boyfriend trailed behind his students, obviously trying his best to stay composed.

When Yuuji found you in the cafe the following day, he bought you a fruit tart. "You must be Higuruma-san's mysterious girlfriend."

"Can you keep it a secret for us both, Yuuji-kun?"

You became fast friends with the boy, too, much to Higuruma's embarrassment and enjoyment. You found it a pleasure to quiz the men with their subject cards even though you knew nothing about law while they weighed in on your own work matters.

"Higuruma-san, you aren't like those people who are married to their profession, are you?"

"Of course not. Now get back to your readings."

His dismissal of talks about marriage was off-putting, but Yuuji knew that Higuruma was just stalling for time. For whatever reason, he'll probably never know.

Higuruma stubbed out his cigarette and threw the butt in the nearby receptacle.

"You have a pretty cushy salary, if you ask me. But if you aren't going to obtain a judgeship like the other professors suggested, what else is stopping you from getting married?"

Oh, right. Yuuji was still there.

"Those readings aren't going to do themselves."

Something did stop him, in fact. It was the fact that you two never really spoke about it. Marriage.

Your relationship was like an ongoing dream for him. One he hadn't woken up from yet because of how airy it made him feel. Just like how a sunflower curled in the direction of the sun, so too did he whenever you were asleep in bed together, curling into your warmth as though he wanted to keep it for his own.

And when he told you over dinner about the judgeship offer from earlier in the day, you replied to him with the same optimism that drew him to you from the start.

"Hiromi, you know I'll always have your back in whatever it is you decide to do. If you wanna go for that judgeship, I say go for it! But you don't have to force yourself, either," you reassured him with a warm smile, one that pulled a similar grin to his own tired face. "Though I suppose some extra shopping money wouldn't be so bad."

"What about m…" He started, only for his voice to fail him. His favourite student would probably be berating him for being so nervous over nothing. Over everything.

"What?"

"Marry me."

Your cutlery goes quiet against your plate, a twinkle in your eyes he mistook for something else. He was planning his escape route now. Your upfront refusal was kindness enough, he thought to himself. But was he really going to stick around and listen to you enumerate the reasons why you wouldn't—

"Of course I will, Hiromi."

"Huh?"

"Oh, my silly little doomer. Did you really think I'd refuse to marry you?" You chuckled at him from across the dinner table. "After that question, expect to be stuck with me for good."

Higuruma laughed, the rumble coming deep from his core. As if there was anything else he'd want more than that. You were all the optimism he needed in his life. "I suppose you're stuck with me then, too."

[frankyz287]

The field outside.

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Words: 1139

Date: 1/4/23-1/5/23

>Tw, talk about heavy topics, if not being able to handle please read something else❗️❗️<

>BUT ALSO THIS IS ALL FAKE❗️ idk If I would get taken down if I don't put this but just in case.🗣❗️<

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As a child I remember the times out in the backyard.

On those summer days back in 2006.

The sunny days I spent in my back yard looking at the field that was full of noting but Bugs and snakes.,

The wind blew making the hay like plants flow, making their own dance as she swayed side to side

Back then I was 7, the world was noting more of bigger people who where my parents and other people who they knew

My siblings. Being older taunted and teased me being smaller and weaker then them

I miss those days even if back then they where noting but childhood fun., I miss playing with my Little poney toys. Pretending they where on a big adventure to save the Queen...

Those days are gone.

Noting but distant memories. Somthing I think of when I'm on those summer days now, wasting my time with whatever shit I had

The days where I was. Could be happy...and not some stupid smoker 23 year old,

I miss the days where I could run inside the house hearing my mother in the kitchen with the music in the background...making lunches of sandwiches with some Chips for a side and some juice to wash it down with...

Those days. Looking back where noting but a normal day...instead of the days I long being a young child...who knew noting but her toys.,

I walk down the dirt road I knew to well from my mother sending me and my brother out to the store. I road in the Red wagon we owned. He use to pull my up and down the hill...

I walk past the woods that we use to make tree forts in. Forts that would fall apart in second of being done with them

I look around at my surroundings making sure I didn't fall in that hole that was never fix. I still can hear my father mutters of "that damn hole" every time we ran over it

I finally hit the good old mail box...the thing we all made together. Our hand prints on it, faded but still there...purple was my color...my sister was yellow and my brother was green...dad was red and mom was blue,

I rubbed my bigger figures past my then baby ones.

I soon walked away from it and walked to the house infornt of it. A old wooden house with yellow colors and white frames on it.

It been years since I came here..

not since mom passed...

The old path of different colored and sized circled stones where was much the same as normal.

The summer night air picked up making the Windchimed ring its bell I remembered well.,

the swinging seat was in the same place it was when I left it. The changes that held it in place where Rusty and almost ready to snap after years of being alone. Pasting the winter to fall, the rain and sun...

Once I got to the door, my feet felt weird missing the welcome rugged that use to be there...silly but I remember my bear feet touching it after I played outside for hours.

Even tho I'm in my shitty sport shoes it still feels off...

I rummaged around in my pocket until I got the key out, I put it close to the looked door and turned it, hearing the unclicking sound and soon the sounds of a squeaky door that use that was always update when my father was around,

I Step into the house....it looked the same. The Big boxy TV with the recliner that my dad use to lay in his work uniform watching whatever was on while he drank his "dad juice" he put it as even when my brother told me it was beer.

I could hear my mother from the kitchen telling me to take my shoes off since "I don't want dirty Floor prints."...

I took my shoes off putting them alone on some plastic flooring we used. It was dusty with thick dark Grey on the black plastic..., I closed the door behind me turning my phone Flash light on missing the cream colors I was met with normally.

I miss the sound of the TV on and the music playing while my mom cleaned.

I walked in more looking at the tints of Old toys in the living room by the bricked fireplace., I could see old dolls. Ponies and half coloring books. Blocks and some stuffed animals that haven't been touched in years,

I looked up the stairs that where only to the left of me. I saw the marks that where left behind the photos that year nailed their for years. Baby to middle school photos...small ones of holidays where gone and in some boxes I wish I had found before I did this.

Remembering the times me and my siblings would sit and play on the also Carpeted Stairs. Our cheeks or arms getting imprints from it once we got bored.

I walked more into the kitchen. The Fridge was empty but the Magnets and a few photos of my parents. Young and in love, a few colored in lion king pictures from our coloring books. Some colors where perfect and others where just scribbles called art.

I can remember being a "little helper" in the kitchen when it came to baking. Licking the frosting or eating the chocolate chips that where left over from making cookies...,

I remember my mother talking to me but what those conversations where of I can't remember. Just being more onto the Sugar my little body craved so much back then.

The house smell was noting but dirt and Rusty stuff and possibly mold.

I wish I listened to my mother more.

I look out of the small window that was above the sink, a window my mom would yell out to use for. Either for use getting to close to the now wilted down into the Soil by now. Or it was dinner time.

I look out to see the field I use to fear. Bugs and snakes where somthing that younger me couldn't handle well, but tonight

Was different...

And this leads me to now. A sad 23 year old who is writing on the counter that was full of dust as well, this doubting people would see it or care for it..but I need somewhere to write down my thoughts. But this is getting to long isn't it...

But if someone does find this...then im already dead.

I'm sorry.

I'm in the fields I feared at one point. If you want to call the cops to tell them their a rotting cropes outside 8 feet away from where your standing possibly.

I wasn't murdered...

I just missed my family...

I just wanted to meet them again...

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Uhm, so i hope you enjoyed this shorter story then my normal ones but I just felt sad about getting older and just made a quick story.