#and neil's just like no really any reasonable person would stare at him like this

[be-queer-do-arson]

I wish we'd gotten a gym scene at some point because you know we'd have gotten a whole monologue about how watching andrew's biceps flex while he does bench presses reminds neil about how strong he is and how andrew protects neil and how he's the strongest person neil has ever known and then yet again someone would make a vague comment about neil checking andrew out and he'd be like what??? I don't understand where you could possible get that idea from

#imagine matt sees neil staring and tries to tease him about it #and neil's just like no really any reasonable person would stare at him like this #matt just shakes his head and decides to give neil another couple weeks to figure it out #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #all for the gay #andreil #the foxhole court

[dearsnow]

ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

#solar eclipse. #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps #dps fanfiction #dps fandom #dps x reader #dps charlie

[sorencd]

IF I FELL

pairing: neil perry x reader

word count: 0.7k

a/n: a small something i wanted to do with neil! have i ever mentioned i lovrhfed himdahsd asdh

masterlist

sitting at a table with your friends surrounding you trying to pretend that you weren’t looking at the person across from where you were wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, especially when most of them can’t keep their mouth shut. you could feel the subtle jab to your side one of your friends, danielle, was giving you when she noticed you were staring beyond the table and wasn’t listening to a thing she was saying.

“stop- stop that.” you dismissively waved your hand to try and stop her from elbowing your side.

emily, another friend of yours, started making jokes about how you’ve got your eyes set on someone and pointed a finger at where you were previously looking. you denied her accusations before cautiously turning your head to the direction she was indicating, acting as if you weren’t staring there a moment ago. to no surprise, it was him, the boy you’ve been fawning over like a little girl who’s had her first crush. this little fixation of yours has been going on for months but you never found it in yourself to act upon it since you knew little about him. all you knew of was that he attended the academy nearby and you’ve never seen him alone or without any of his friends. you wanted to change that. you’ve also come to find out a few weeks back that his name was neil, a name that made you perk your head up whenever anyone mentions it, no matter if it was related to him or not. it was love at first sight, your friends would say, and they’ve never seen you as smitten as you are now. 

you rested your chin on your palm to better concentrate at his face, or smile, rather. you concluded that he had the best smile in town, brighter than any other you’ve seen. you bet that if he were to smile at you directly, your heart wouldn’t handle any of it and stop beating right then and there. you can only dream about that happening.

“he’s a proper dishy lad, isn’t he?” 

you scrunched your nose at danielle who was trying her best british impression, she’s been reading too much books from that tolkien guy. you really should take those books away from her. you continued your faux act of not knowing anything, avoiding her teasing gaze with a shrug to your shoulders.

“what? i have no idea who you’re talking about. i was just-” it was hard to get out words that would help you defend yourself when your head was busy being occupied by him. you felt that no adjective could perfectly express what you thought of him and if you opened your mouth, you’d accidentally slip and say something about neil instead. 

"i-i don’t know.”

they all shared a knowing look while you continued staring at him as he leaned onto a tree he was at. he had his mouth closed and was seemingly listening intently to what one of the boys was saying. what a perfect set up, you thought. he could just continue what he was doing, and you would just admire him from afar. unfortunately, your daydreaming was cut short when unexpectedly, neil turned his attention to where you sat and for a brief moment, you two made eye contact. you felt the air in your lungs get ripped away from you and your heart thump faster. he gave you a smile that you thought only came in your dreams accompanied by a wink before diverting his gaze and pitched into the conversation they were having, leaving you red and blushing with a thousand questions running in your mind. why would he look at you? did he know the whole time? your friends started giggling amongst themselves as they saw the whole thing unfold.

“looks like that boy you like fancies you back~.” danielle resumed elbowing your arm and wiggled her eyebrows, “i think he likes you too.” 

“don’t- no, he doesn’t. something just got caught in his eye, that’s all.” you reasoned, also half lying to yourself to try and stop you from leading yourself on. you didn’t want to expect from someone who probably doesn’t even know who you are, probably already liked another person, and most likely would never talk to you. 

on the other side of the park though, unbeknownst to you, neil was watching you try to explain yourself to your group with a smile. he should ask you on a date soon, he contemplated to himself, before someone else beats him to it. 

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

#neil perry x reader #neil perry #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader

[cavinginhisfvce]

'IT'LL ALL WORK OUT'

Disclaimer: I'm honestly not a fan of Susan, but I thought this fic idea was cute!

Paring: Harringrove.

When Neil married Susan, he was against Susan adopting Billy, claiming the boy's real mother couldn't bother to be tasked with raising him, so no one should ever burden themselves with such a thing.

Susan, surprisingly, was firm in wanting to pick up the slack Billy's mother left in her wake, eventually Neil relented, and the adoption process was underway.

It's been four years, and a move to Hawkins, Indiana since Billy legally became Susan's child, something Max was displeased with initially, quickly became a comfort to her when she discovered what Neil did to his son. It had shaken her to her core, and when she relayed the information to her mother, the woman simply pulled her into a hug and murmured, "I know, baby. It'll all work out."

Max didn't know what that meant, or if she should trust her mom. But, she silently nodded, she had no real options here. She had to wait for the future. 

The future as it turns out, was just three months later; Neil had laid into Billy with more fervor than usual, and when Susan made to step in, her husband struck her. 

It hadn't detoured the red-haired woman, she continued her self-appointed task of checking on Billy, who was staring up at her with a look she's never seen on his face, a look no seventeen should ever wear. 

She gave him a small, comforting smile, just as Neil got a fist full of otherwise pristine hair; his freehand raising to strike once more.

The action worked quickly in pulling Billy from his Susan induced trance with a start, his body moving faster than his brain as he lunged at his father, swiftly knocking the man to the ground.

For years, Neil's abuse had only ever been turned towards his son, and in truth he was grateful; because Billy doesn't know what he would do if it was ever Max on the receiving end. She was a child, she was his shitty little sister. Max, who brought him the stupidest (best) hoodies he owns, the fabric softer than any he had previously. Max, who despite hating Billy in the beginning, now comes to his room when she has a nightmare or generally needs comforting from someone other than her mother. She's the only person to hug him since the day his mom took off. 

His sister who despite everything, tries so hard to show Billy someone loves him. She loves him.

Susan had tried to comfort him, but Billy always brushed her off. She never seemed to take it personally for some reason. Maybe because she knew he was afraid of what would happen if Neil even suspected Billy felt safe in their home.

The knowledge that Neil could hurt Susan was always present in Billy's mind, but he often wrote off his concern with a scoff. She knew what she married, she knew what he was like. It was her problem, not his.

However, seeing Neil actually hit Susan had set something off in Billy, because while she may have never defended or stood up for him as she had today; she still made sure he was properly tended to after encounters with his father.

If Neil sent him to bed sans dinner, locking him in his bedroom for however long, she would have Max sneak him a sandwich, Max was always more than happy to take said food. 

The times when Neil kicked Billy out intent on making the boy sleep in his car, Susan always snuck a bag of snacks, blankets, and whatever else, into the bushes by their house for him to grab. Despite always going to Steve's and sleeping in the boy's guestroom on those nights, it still showed she was trying.

If Billy was bed ridden after his father caved his chest in, a few too many times, she would come into his room, soothe his pain with hushed words and gentle touches. Billy was usually too tired and in too much pain to reject her warm hands and kind fingers working through his curls after she'd patched him up.

Seeing Susan cradle her cheek, seeing Max sob at the display, finally gave Billy the nerve to stand up to Neil.

He doesn't really remember much after straddling his father, his fists flying rapidly, their intended destination Neil's face, but he does remember Susan scrambling to call 911. Remembers her soft words of assurance that Neil was down.

He remembers Max's look of relief as their eyes met.

He still feels the phantom hold as Susan tugs him from his place over his dad's limp frame. Can vaguely recall the frightening seconds he thought he killed his father before the man was gasping awake, his eyes widened with fear as they landed on Billy. He was actually afraid of Billy. 

Everything beyond that was a blur, Billy doesn't really know what was said, or done. He just knows Neil was in police custody, something that would've left Billy parentless, if not for Susan having adopted him all those years ago.

Especially since his own mother had taken off when he was barely five, and relinquished her rights as a parent in the same breath she'd divorced his father. 

He always wondered why he wasn't enough. For his mother or Neil.

When Hopper came by to ask if they wanted to press charges, both Billy and Susan agreed easily. It was the most gratifying decision Billy has ever made in regards to his father and the abuse he's endured at his hands for years.

Billy and Steve started officially seeing each other a few weeks after Neil's trial ended. Hopper saw to it that his father was hit with the max sentence for child abuse, and domestic violence. Both Max and Billy would be well into adulthood when Neil gets released, something that made the decision to be with Steve all that sweeter.

He hadn't wanted to come out to Susan, the lingering fear that she would object to her newly seventeen year old son being with a guy was too prevalent. 

Though, technically, he didn't come out to her, she came to him one morning with her hand on her hip and a warm smile on her lips demanding he "bring his 'Pretty Boy' to dinner."

Billy wanted to be upset that she'd found out, but he was far too humiliated that it was his own fault she'd figured it out. Apparently calling Steve 'Pretty Boy' like it was going out of style, was a dead giveaway for the woman.

Much to Billy and Max's (dis)pleasure, Susan and Steve got along easily.

On Billy's eighteenth birthday, Max had barged into his bedroom, shrieking in horror when she was met with an eyeful of her brother and Steve in a slight state of undress, Billy had thrown a pillow in her direction, his voice rough with embarrassment as he shouted, 

"Mom, tell Maxine to fucking knock!" 

Both siblings froze at that, Max had a wide smile on her face, while Billy looked slightly mortified, his words echoing in his ears.

The look morphed into one of pain when Susan slipped into his room, her smile rivaling Max's with how big it was, "That's the first time you've ever called me mom…"

Billy swallowed thickly and nodded his head, though he refused to make eye contact with the woman, even when she was throwing her arms around his bare shoulders in an iron grip hug, "okay, okay, I get it! Can we maybe talk about this shit later, you know, when I'm not trying to get laid on my birthday?" 

Billy wasn't actually going to have sex with Steve with both Max and Susan home, but their presence in the house definitely wasn't going to prevent Steve from watching Billy fall apart beneath him, especially not if the brunet had any say in the matter.

This had Susan reaching out to lightly slap his shoulder, a faux look of exasperation on her features,"maybe next time you or Pretty Boy over there will remember to lock the door, hm?"

With one last smile at Billy, accompanied by a wink, she then ushered Max out the room, Steve almost immediately leaping up to lock the door behind them; his face beet red when their eyes finally met.

"I'm fuckin' moving out." His tone was embarrassed, but there was no heat behind, no real threat to his words. 

He wouldn't leave his sister and his mother for any reason short of them wanting him gone.

#billy antis dni #billy hargrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove protection squad #harringrove #steve harrington #max and billy #hargrove mayfield siblings #good parents susan hargrove #i dont actually like susan but ive been toying with this one shot since july or August #never planned to post it tbh #tw neil hargrove #tw child abuse #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fic #soft billy hargrove #implied #bottom billy hargrove #tw sex mention #angst with a happy ending #steve loves billy

[clavidy]

guy who is definitely one of your dps mutuals here. you should do at least one of these five or i will throw pebbles at you. any character because i have definitley watched hit film dead poets society 100%.

AHHHHH YAYAYAYY!!

Im just gonna do what I want character-wise bcs you didn't specify but I'll try and do all the ones you asked for!! :DDD

1, appearance hcs:

Knox's teeth are chipped at the front and partially fake, he fell on his face while trying to ride a unicycle and impress a woman.

Meeks has bunny teeth, has had heavy-duty braces for YEARS trying to fix them. He doesn't mind them, actually, but his dentist said that he should and he went along with it. He has a bunch of birthmarks!!

Todd's nose is always a bit red and his lips are always pink. He just permanently looks cold and sickly. His eyes are blue-gray, and he has some slight freckles on his nose.

Neil has the longest, most gorgeous eyelashes known to man and is covered in beauty marks. He's pretty, that's it.

Cam is a daywalker!! While Meeks has a ton of freckles, he has absolutely none. He also used to have braces, but he didn't really need them. He has absolutely perfect teeth now, though. He also, like Charlie, spends a ton of time on his hair every morning. It's the only time they get along.

2, weird quirks:

Todd tends to chew on anything near his mouth unconsciously, but he doesn't really like gum. He overuses lipbalm, specifically mint.

Neil likes to stare into bright lights and follow the spot it creates afterwards. His mother jokes that this quirk of his is the reason he needs reading glasses, and his father's face gets very pinched every time she does.

Pitts drums his fingers on everything. He likes to create little beats with Meeks.

Charlie tends to doodle on everything, whether that be paper, desks, his skin, or his friends', usually his friends'. He often doodles naked women. He's a very bad artist.

3, disabilities:

Meeks has problems with his knee joints and uses forearm crutches on bad days!! He's also very asthmatic

Cam has chronic migraines :(

Spaz is hoh and uses crutches as well on top of his asthma and allergies, the poor guy

Todd is autistic!! (he's just like me fr)

4, love language!!:

Neil is a very touchy person, as he communicates his affection that way, but he personally likes honest conversation and spending quality time with someone the most. His "guilty pleasure" (in his mind) is words of affirmation.

Todd thought himself touch-averse until he met the poets (namely neil) and suddenly, he wanted to be as close to them as possible. He enjoys spending quality time with and doing acts of service for those he loves, and he likes receiving words of affirmation and the same quality time back.

Meeks, Pitts, and Charlie all like giving and receiving physical affection, though Meeks also likes quality time, Pitts likes words of affirmation, and Charlie is... Charlie.

Cam likes words of affirmation and quality time! He's very touch-averse and slow-moving.

Knox is... Knox. He communicates through physical touch and likes receiving words of affirmation in canon, so no hcs for him really.

As for music,, ahh I really can't decide. I mean Meeks and Pitts have a canonical music taste, and Charlie would definitely listen to bowie if he was around in the 50s, but he wasn't, so.

All I can think of is that Charlie would enjoy Elvis purely because of his "lewd" dancing and Cam would feel the exact opposite. Cam would probably listen to popular, safe pretentious white boy music like frank Sinatra and classical hits. I feel most of the other poets would have similar music tastes, as all they really know is the stuff Meeks and Pitts play, but Charlie's rich so he has a bunch of records AND a radio at his house.

#dead poets society #whooo that was a lot #dead poets headcanons #richard cameron #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #stephen meeks #gerard pitts #headcanon asks

[heuhuewaves]

is it casual now?

this fic is for the @harringrovesummerbingo 2024 event!

prompt: B1 "sitting in the dark"

summary: billy is forced to stick next to steve during a storm.

content warnings: internalized homophobia, angst, mentions of smut, casual by chappel roan inspiration

word count: 1.3k

Not enough light. Not enough space. Too much to say.

That’s all Billy could think of. He didn’t really plan to be stuck in Scoops Ahoy. Especially not with the boy who he considered to have broken his heart. Steve was the last person he wanted to be stuck with. But it’s not like he could just get up and leave. The summer rain was no joke and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon. So getting into the camaro and driving as far away as possible from this was out of the question. 

Somehow the brunette had convinced Billy to stay with him at the shop. Of course he had feelings for Steve, regardless of the fucked up shit he had done. 

So yes, Billy had agreed to huddle behind the ice cream counter with nothing but a flashlight pointed at the ceiling. At least it gave them some form of light.

“This thing should last us about an hour. We can go from there once it dies.” Steve announced as he took a seat next to Billy.  The blonde distanced himself, scooting over a few inches. Steve sighed out of irritation. It was almost a play by play of the night Steve called things off. Billy knew that they couldn’t be together. Especially not in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

People just wouldn’t understand.

“Really?” Was all Steve said in response to Billy’s choice of personal space.

“Yes, really.”  Billy said as he continued to do anything but look at the other boy in the face. He couldn’t understand how Steve could be so nonchalant about what happened between them. They shared intimacy together. Billy met Steve’s parents the one time they were actually home, as a friend of course. It still counted to Billy as much as it would’ve been if Steve actually told his parents the truth.

“Yes mom and dad this is Billy. Sometimes I let him Fuck me on your guys’ couch. No big deal.”

In Billy’s mind, it didn’t feel that hard to have to admit. The other half of his mind was telling him the opposite. If he would’ve said something like that Neil, he would’ve gotten a black eye. He somewhat understood. If only that were enough to mend the heartbreak he had felt for the past few months. 

Steve sighed again before speaking once more. “This petty bullshit is dumb Billy. We graduated a month ago and you’re still acting like a little fucking kid. You can’t keep dealing with all your problems by shutting people out.” Steve would say that was one of the main reasons why he cut Billy off. Anytime he got mad and Harrington attempted to talk to him about it, it was impossible to hold a single conversation without Billy lashing out.

Ok, what the fuck do you know? Was all Billy could think of in response. Of course he didn’t say it out loud. Steve didn’t deserve a response in his mind anyway. 

A few moments passed with silence. The striking sound of thunder from the outside made Steve jump up from his slumped position. He hated loud noises. He could barely stand the sound of the engine of Billy’s camaro. 

Hargrove at the tensing of the brunette’s  body.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Steve asked with frustration.

Billy continued to laugh as he swept some of his mullet out of his face.“There’s no one else in the store so… that only leaves one person left.” 

“Figures you’d only wanna talk to me when it’s to put me down.” Harrington rolled his eyes.

“You did the same shit to me dude. Don’t get mad about it now.” 

Both of the boys were now staring each other in the eyes. Anger filling both pairs. Neither of them planned on backing down from each other. 

The clash of the titans was imminent at this point.

“God you’re so sensitive hargrove.” 

“I'm sensitive? Yeah, ok.”

“Yeah you are.” Steve started up again, riled up. “You’re a crybaby who can’t take rejection, or reality for that matter! We had something casual once. That’s it. It meant nothing.” 

“Me making you cum on yourself isn’t casual Steve.” Billy said in a much calmer tone than the other boy. It even took him by surprise. He was the last person to be rational and keep his cool during situations like this.

Maybe the heartache was making him numb to all of this.

Steve ultimately knew that the blonde had a point. But there was no way they would survive together. Living a double life wasn’t for Steve. Hooking up with a guy behind his girlfriend’s back and then hooking up with said girlfriend right after was mentally draining.

He just wished Billy would understand that.

Steve ran his hands through his hair, forming the words and putting them together. “I can’t do this double life shit dude. My parents.” Harrington paused. When Steve said parents, he mostly meant his dad. He was pretty sure his mom couldn’t care less. His dad would never live with a queer as a son. 

His words, not Steve’s.

“My parents would kill me. I would lose everything.”

All Billy could hear was excuses. 

“We’re fucking 18 years old. You don’t have shit to lose.” Billy snapped back. Steve looked down to the floor they were sitting on. “You knew what you were getting into when you decided to kiss me for the first time. That was your choice Steve, not mine. Stop blaming the fact that you can’t accept who you are on me.” 

Then it went quiet. Billy crossed his arms and Steve began to scratch the back of his head. Both of them had seemingly spoken their minds. As if knowing this, the mall lights began to power back on. 

The buzz of the luminents began to surround the room. 

Billy could finally get up and set himself free.

But for whatever reason, he didn’t. He stayed put. 

Then there was the eye contact again. Both of the boys were diving into each other’s eyes. Just like how they used to at the beginning of the school year.

Billy ultimately knew he had to get away.

“I need to get going-” As he attempted to get up, Steve grabbed his arm. The grip was hard, but it had a different energy to it. He wanted the blonde to say.

“I don’t know what I’m so afraid of.” Was all Steve said before he pulled Billy back to the ground and into a kiss. 

It was unexpected and contradictory. Billy didn’t know how the brunette could tell him one thing and then do the exact opposite.

The kiss was passionate. Steve brushed the curls of Billy’s mullet as they continued to share saliva. 

Then it hit Hargrove. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. This is exactly how he got hurt the first time. Steve was brushing through his hair the same way he always did. Kissing him the same way he did after they made love. If he let him do this again, it was only imminent before his heart would be broken once more.

Billy broke the kiss and got up swiftly as he wiped his lips.

“We can’t. You know we can’t. I can’t get fucked over again.” Steve only looked at him with upturned brows and apologetic eyes. 

Billy let out a sigh and made his way from behind the counter to the exit of the store.

Steve sat in the same spot, running his hands through his hair again. 

Now that Hargrove was walking out of his life for good, there's nothing more he wanted than for him to be in his arms.

#harringrove #hsb2024 #harringrove summer bingo #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x billy #harringrove fandom #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Nine

Day: Saturday, October 14th Time: 2:37 PM EST

Higgins rapped loudly on the door and waited. Neil didn't want to get any closer to Higgins than he already was, but he couldn't see Andrew's door well enough from here. He kept his eyes on Higgins as he edged down the hall. Higgins glanced back at the movement, but the door opening distracted him. Unsurprisingly, it was Andrew who investigated the authoritative knock. He only got the door halfway open before he realized who was standing in the hallway. Neil heard the doorknob creak in warning as Andrew twisted it further than it was meant to go. It was a startling giveaway considering Andrew's wide smile and the breezy tone of his voice. "Oh, I must be imagining things. Pig Higgins, you are a very, very long way from home." "Andrew," Higgins said. "We need to talk." "We talked, remember?" Andrew said. "I told you not to bother me." "You said not to call you," Higgins said. "Just give me a few minutes, won't you, for old times' sake? I came all the way out here to see you. Doesn't that get me any sort of consideration?" Andrew shook his head with a laugh. "You didn't come out here for me. You came on a witch hunt I already said I wouldn't help you with. Give meone good reason to not cut your throat, would you?" Dan hissed under her breath, but Higgins looked completely unfazed by the threat. "I was wrong. I know that now. The investigation on him turned up nothing." "I warned you," Andrew said, unsympathetic. Higgins held out a hand like he thought Andrew would shut the door in his face. "We were looking at the wrong person, weren't we? I think I've got it right this time, but I can't do anything without a complaining witness. The other kids won't speak up. They don't trust me that much. You're all I've got." That got Andrew's attention. "Kids? Kids, plural. You only mentioned one last time, Pig. How many are you talking about? How many has she had?" "You wouldn't care about the number unless there really was something there for me to find," Higgins said, quiet and accusing. "Just yes or no, Andrew. That's all I want. That's all I need right now. I'll give you a name, you give me an answer, and I promise I'll go away." "You promise." Andrew sounded highly entertained by the notion. "You'll break that promise inside a week, Pig. Don't pretend otherwise. Do I have to walk you out to make sure you leave or will you—" "Drake," Higgins said. Andrew shut up. Higgins stretched his hand out further, bracing for a violent reaction, and stared down at Andrew as he waited. Andrew was silent, but not for long. His drugs wouldn't let him keep still for more than a few seconds. "How many kids, Pig?" "Six, since you," Higgins said. Andrew pushed his door further open and stepped out, nearly shoving Higgins aside on his way to the stairs. Higgins strode after him, and the stairwell door slammed behind them.

Art used with permission by lnmei. Thank you @lnmei!

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #lnmei

[esthermitchell-author]

"HIs Sheltering Wings" (FanFic based on Good Omens by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett)

Quick Note: I changed the title. Was originally going to be "Under His Wings" but I like the new title better. :) I also gave the church from 1941 an ID (based on a real church bombed in the Blitz), because I couldn't find any name mentioned anywhere, which I thought was odd. If I'm wrong, mea culpa.

Now, without further ado...

-------------------- "His Sheltering Wings"--------------------------

Saint Mary Adermanbury Church Ruins, London – 1967

It'd been twenty-six years since he was here last. Back then it was holy ground. Someplace he'd have sworn he'd rather be discorporated than end up. Then Aziraphale went and wandered into the clutches of that trio of Nazi thugs. Naturally, he couldn't leave his angel in there. The mere thought of what could have happened still made his head hurt and his skin crawl.

Crowley would have braved a full-on exorcism in progress, if it meant hauling Aziraphale out of there alive. He was still coming to grips with just how quickly the millennia of simmering interest coalesced that night, starting right across the road from where he sat in his Bentley, staring out at the hollow where old ghosts still roamed.

There wasn't much left of the church, now – not even a trace of sanctity remained on the grounds. What little of the stonework survived his well-placed bomb had been dismantled and hauled off to America last year, leaving only sad lines of a foundation and the stone effigy of a bird – an eagle, once, if he remembered correctly. Honestly, he hadn't really paid it any attention, at the time. He'd just been focused on getting his angel out of there before the shooting started or the bomb landed. Either one.

He sat there, staring at the stone bird -- rising from amidst the verdant garden like a phoenix frozen before it could burst into reviving flame – as he battled memories.

He empathized with the singed, scarred ruin of a bird more than he cared to admit. He often felt trapped halfway between the Hell he was forced to report to and his own personal idea of what Heaven should be, tucked away in amongst the shops of Whickber Street, in Soho. Both he and the bird were scarred, broken, ugly remnants of something once brighter, stronger, and more beautiful. With every decade that passed, he felt the brittle anger of abandonment more. Not God's – that was wasted effort. Not Satan's, either. Both were ultimately pointless.

Instead, he felt the keen blade of his own abandonment. He somehow got himself caught on a wheel of perpetual inadequacy. Oh, he hid it well. It was amazing what just the right head tilt and sarcastic quip could deflect. Most people never gave him a second glance. They just called him an arsehole and moved on.

To be fair, he was a bloody arshehole, with most people. Fuck, he didn't even know why he came back here, tonight.

Nostalgia, maybe.

Nah, not likely. Wasn't too much about that night he had any desire to remember.

Trust me.

The words, mouthed without a single sound while he stared through the sight of a rifle and wondered who he should pray to that his fingers quit shaking and he didn't discorporate the being he'd only just realized he couldn't face life on Earth without. If he had, the moment would have ended him, too. There wasn't any coming back from that kind of act. And with a human war on at the time, it was doubtful Heaven would have let Aziraphale have another body to come back for a long while, if ever.

His hands shook against the Bentley's steering wheel and his gaze went unerringly to the tartan thermos laying on the passenger seat, the cap carefully pointed away from him. He really was a liar, because he knew exactly why he came back here, tonight. It was the same reason he forced himself to stay away from Soho as much as possible for the past two decades. He was only so strong, and he had enough living nightmares. Anyone who ever walked the corridors of Hell did, whether demon or damned.

Hell didn't have anything on the bloody nightmare he lived through in 1941. First, hearing through his spy network about the double agent in Military Intelligence and how she'd roped Aziraphale into some half-arsed Nazi scheme under the pretense of an arrest. Then he arrived at the bookshop to warn Aziraphale, only to find his angel already gone. Of course the adorable, overly excited idiot had to be punctual.

Crowley'd put the Bentley's engine to the test, that night, pressing it as fast as it would go and then begging for just a little more. The car wasn't the only thing in overdrive, either. His imagination kept creating images of a world with no Aziraphale. The bleak pit opening in his chest, that night, was one he never wanted to experience again.

Except, in his panic, he forgot God hated him. God wanted him punished, which meant him watching his angel stare down the barrel of a gun twice that night back in 1941.

Once, he might have been able to get past, in time. He'd already had a rescue plan cobbled together before he hit Wood Street. And it worked – well, up until Hell stuck their interfering noses in his life. He even managed to remember to save Aziraphale's books and ignore the soft light emanating from his angel's cerulean eyes. It'd been a struggle, but he managed to hang onto his gruff mask by the skin of his teeth and tell Aziraphale to shut up.

He'd thought his angel was safe. Right up until Aziraphale opened his mouth and tried to help him with the offer of a magic act. Long before they reached that magic shop, Crowley knew he was fucked – and not in the way he'd prefer. He'd wanted to blame Aziraphale for doing some kind of miracle on him, except... Except the only miracle in the entire bookshop was Aziraphale, and Crowley's heart had already rolled over, run up the white flag, and utterly surrendered the moment Aziraphale gave him that soft little look and murmured he'd get used to Crowley's first name, left over from his time in Florence.

He'd wondered in that moment what else Aziraphale might be willing or able to get used to, as it pertained to him. Until he realized -- standing on the Windmill Theatre's stage, aware neither of their miracles were working as he pointed an actual gun at his angel, his entire being screaming to drop it, grab Aziraphale, and get the Heaven out of there before things went any more wrong -- that the best way to protect his angel was to stay the Heaven away from him.

Crowley sighed to himself, his attention going back across the road to the last traces of the bombed-out church. Yeah, he knew why he was here. That blessed bloody statue had been calling his name for twenty-six years, hadn't it? Demanding he put it somewhere it could remind him on the daily not to be a fucking idiot ever again. He was a broken, marred, ugly thing, on the inside. He didn't deserve an angel's grace. He certainly didn't deserve Aziraphale's love or trust.

Yet, his angel showed up earlier tonight to offer him trust, if not love. His angel was trusting him to handle a loaded weapon, yet again, and this time not off himself in the process.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered to himself as he slid from the Bentley and went to claim his reminder to watch his back, before his wings got singed again.

In the end, it always came down to feathers and flames, didn't it?

*****

Crowley's Flat, Mayfair, London – Night after Armageddon't, Mark I

He wasn't sure what to make of Aziraphale's strange reaction to the Mona Lisa sketch. There was a weird feeling in the air – he could feel it rasping against his skin like invisible sandpaper the entire time they hashed out their plan to deal with Agnes Nutter's impending final prophecy. He'd had to reassure his angel repeatedly – and prove it once with a brief "test run" – that they could swap appearances without any difficulty or side effects.

Still, the flashes of pain he kept seeing in Aziraphale's eyes before his angel would swiftly look away bothered Crowley. His angel never avoided his gaze. If anything, Aziraphale sought out his gaze, unafraid of him. It was humbling, and though he'd never admit it, Crowley felt seen when Aziraphale looked at him.

This avoidance – new since they'd arrived at the flat -- was like having someone prod around beneath his ribcage with a dull pair of scissors. Not sharp enough to do permanent damage, but uncomfortable enough to make having his fingernails pulled out one at a time sound like a fun alternative.

Crowley figured it was the angel stressing over the upcoming face swap.

"Quit worrying, angel. You'll be fine," he tried again, careful to keep the soft concern he felt out of his voice.

"I'm not worried, Crowley. I'm..." Aziraphale's mouth pressed shut in that prim, pursed little line that always drove Crowley insane and looked away. The clear distress on what Crowley could see of his angel's face poured acid into his already aching chest.

He had to keep reminding himself not to touch, long fingers shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He almost made a mess of everything at Tadfield Manor the moment he grabbed Aziraphale's lapels, his frustration overriding good sense and personal safety. Had that nun from St. Beryl's not interrupted, he feared he might have given in. After all, Aziraphale was right there, and Crowley'd been desperate for him since 1941. Longer, even.

Before Crowley could question what Aziraphale was so afraid to say, his angel cast another indecipherable glance at Leonardo's sketch, sighed heavily, and made his way into the room where Crowley kept all his plants. Crowley let him go without comment. Aziraphale made it clear back in 1967 that they weren't even close to on the same page. Maybe being around the plants would help settle his angel, because that he was unsettled couldn't be clearer.

Crowley leaned back against the wall next to the sketch, his head tipped back and his eyes closed as his fingers drummed restlessly against the wall.

I have a plan. We just need to get through this last prophecy... Then we can have some peace.

Maybe he could even finally get Aziraphale on the same page as him regarding what they meant to each other. They could be their own side, finally, and he could stop jumping at the shadows of their pasts...

"Crowley..."

His eyes popped open, immediately hypervigilant. Aziraphale's voice sounded thin, faraway, and pitched high with fear.

Had he underestimated Hell? Shit, shit, shit.

He was moving before he responded. "Aziraphale!"

Crowley nearly melted to the floor in relief when found his angel standing in the middle of the plant room, facing him. Relief evaporated as he saw the rigid expression on Aziraphale's face. The angel looked frozen in place, except for the swift rise and fall of his chest and shoulders to match his quick, frightened breaths.

"Angel, what's wrong?" He crossed the room in two panicked strides, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the Heaven is wrong with you? There's nothing there!"

"What is that," Aziraphale's arm lifted, his finger jabbing past Crowley with an emphatic tremble, "doing here?"

Crowley followed his gesture, and realization settled over him like a lead-lined blanket, dragging his hope straight through the floor. Fuck. He saw the statue every day. Had for over half a century. Familiarity numbed the sting of memory... for him. He forgot Aziraphale probably hadn't seen the blessed thing since 1941, or that he might have similarly strong negative reactions to it like Crowley had in 1967. After all, his angel had been the one with the gun almost literally to his head.

"Right. Fuck. I'm sorry, angel," he apologized immediately. "I sort of forgot it was there, or I'd have warned you."

Aziraphale's attention turned slowly his way, even as the angel's arm lowered back to his side. "Crowley, why on earth would you even have that wretched thing?"

Crowley raised one eyebrow, surprised. He'd thought, of anyone on this planet, Aziraphale would understand why he brought it here. "Why do you insist on continuing to play at being a magician?"

Aziraphale huffed out an affronted breath. "It's hardly the same thing. I happen to enjoy magic." A look of horror dawned on his face. "Don't tell me you actually enjoy remembering having a bomb dropped on your head? Or nearly getting dragged off to Hell?"

"'Course not. That thing," Crowley nodded toward the statue, "is here to remind me to never let my guard down. Last time I did, some idiot got the drop on us and nearly made me shoot you in the face."

Crowley watched the tension drain out of Aziraphale, even as the angel's expression softened. The uncomfortable, scratchy feeling in the air and the dull digging beneath his ribs vanished, and he only just stifled a relieved sigh.

His gaze was drawn back to the statue, and he made a silent promise. The day he could be sure neither Heaven nor Hell were going to show up looking to destroy them, he was leaving this miserable flat and that fucking bird behind. He and his angel needed someplace to just be them.

They were both due a little peace, and he intended to create it.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London – 3 Weeks Post-Thwarting the Second Coming

Aziraphale peered anxiously out the window above his desk, uncertain if he was more excited by the surprise he spent so long planning, or worried he was about to finally send his demonic love completely around the proverbial bend for good.

To say Crowley was still adjusting to a world where he didn't have to look over his shoulder every second of the day -- or wait for some apocalyptic, unspeakable plot of Heaven or Hell's to either try to kill one of them or drive a wedge between them -- would be tantamount to calling the Dead Sea mildly brackish. Even in their own little corner of Soho, Crowley still couldn't completely relax when they were out in public. He reminded Aziraphale a little too much of one of those shell-shocked soldiers he tended to back during the Great War, and the worry his beloved Anthony might never truly be able to let himself accept the peaceful life they finally had a real chance at plagued him. He so wanted to give Crowley peace.

When they'd packed up the few possessions – and the plants, of course – Crowley had in his flat, last week, the demon was adamant they leave behind the battered stone eagle sculpture -- its wings still spread wide, if chipped a bit – that once sat in the sanctuary of Saint Mary Adermanbury's Church. He'd called it a "wretched thing," and Aziraphale heard in his voice what Crowley didn't say. Sweet, mischievous Anthony, with his quick wit, cleverness, and good heart, thought he was a wretched thing, too. He still thought he was somehow less, somehow unforgiveable and undeserving, even after hearing the Almighty declare him beloved – even after Aziraphale told him how loved he was.

Aziraphale closed his eyes against the desire to cry. He battled the urge a lot, aware all the love he had to give -- and that was a lot -- couldn't heal all Crowley's wounds. While helping Crowley pack up his flat, Aziraphale realized he needed something grander -- a gesture that couldn't be mistaken. Knowing what Crowley thought, how could he leave the statue behind? How could he not do everything in his power to prove it wasn't – that Crowley wasn't – a wretched, unlovable thing?

He only hoped he hadn't done the wrong thing, in what he did, because if he inadvertently harmed his precious demon again, he didn't think he could bear it.

"What's got you looking all guilty this time, angel?" The words, full of familiar teasing, nearly catapulted him out of his skin with how close behind him they were. He spun around to find Crowley barely a step away, shades hanging from his long fingers as he eyed Aziraphale with mock suspicion and a teasing smirk. "Better not be any other naked Archangels."

"Of course—Crowley, that's not funny," he protested, blushing, even as his demon's smirk widened. Crowley tossed his shades onto the desk and reached out to thread their hands together, lifting each of Aziraphale's to his lips as his golden, serpentine eyes met and held the angel's.

"Sorry, angel, but the last time you looked like that, Nina had just mentioned your 'naked man friend'." Crowley's wicked chuckle sent a warm shiver through the angel. "I wasn't sure at the time if I should be jealous or laugh."

"I'm thankful you did neither."

Crowley hummed a vague agreement. "You're avoiding the point."

Aziraphale smiled without answering, fighting down his nerves as he disengaged one hand from Crowley's grasp and tugged the demon along as he headed for the staircase. He was going to trust his heart to lead him right, and his heart told him Crowley needed this. It was time.

"Angel, what the Heaven are you up to?" Crowley protested warily, though he followed without breaking his hold on Aziraphale's hand. He did that a lot, lately -- clung as if he feared something was going to rip Aziraphale away. A wave of sorrow and love washed through the angel.

"Hush. I have something to show you."

Crowley's gaze flicked to the top of the steps, before a downright sinful grin spread across his lips and he waggled his eyebrows. "I've seen it, but by all means..."

"Behave," Aziraphale scolded with a mock reproachful look. He huffed out a half-sigh, half-laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I told you, angel. I'm a demon. I don't know how. And I have a few suggestions..."

"Crowley!" He let it go at that admonishment, then stopped at the door to the room where they'd situated Crowley's beloved plants – not that the demon got around to admitting he cared, yet. But he would, in time. Aziraphale was sure of that. The real question was, would he still want this life they were painstakingly building, after he saw what Aziraphale had done?

Yes. The angel told himself. He wasn't going to start doubting everything now. Crowley loved him. Even if what he'd done caused pain, they'd find a way past it. They were moving past the days of talking around and through each other, or just not talking at all. They were working their way through all the difficult conversations they spent so very long avoiding.

"I know you said to leave it," he murmured, "but I saw your face, Anthony. I saw what you weren't telling me."

He forced his hand steady as he turned the doorknob, pushing open the door into the sunlight-drenched room they'd turned into a veritable indoor garden, complete with a small, freestanding pond full of koi fish and a bench much like their bench in Saint James's Park. And now, it also contained Aziraphale's gift to Crowley -- he had it commissioned by a local stone sculptor who had promised to work the old stone without cleaning away the traces of burn marks, smoke, and dust while creating exactly the image Aziraphale drew for her.

He felt the hard clench of Crowley's grip on his hand and winced, but forced himself to look at his demon, his love, the other half of his heart. He looked, even expecting anger, or fear, or...

"It's the statue from the church, Anthony. At least, that's what it started out as."

Crowley was staring at the statue, but his expression was none of the things Aziraphale feared. His expression was slack in the same kind of awe Aziraphale was used to seeing from humans who experienced the grace of the Divine. His golden eyes were wide, and his face was damp with tears.

"Angel. Aziraphale... What... what did you do?"

"I took something believed to be wretched and broken," he whispered, afraid if he spoke too loudly, it would shatter the moment, "and showed it just how loved, and beautiful, it really was, all along."

Before he could move or say anything else, he found himself enveloped in Crowley's hard embrace, his demon's face burrowed against his neck as Crowley wept tears Aziraphale was certain he'd never let himself cry, in entire lifetimes of being a demon. The angel wrapped his arms around this beloved, beautiful creature who had never, no matter his protestations otherwise, been anything less than cherished and worthy, and let Crowley cry. Whispering soft words of love and healing, Aziraphale smiled at the stone statue of a smudged, tarnished angel with pitch-black wings, cupping his palms around a small nightingale in mid-song, while his dark, soot-stained wings lovingly sheltered three seated children holding baby goats.

"You asked me yesterday how long I've loved you. The answer, my love, is forever," he whispered against Crowley's ear, planting a soft kiss there. "That's how long I've loved you. Angel. Demon. The trappings never mattered because it was always you. Underneath it all, I only saw you, Crowley."

THE END

#good omens fandom #azicrow #aziracrow #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #fanfic #go2 #good omens 3 #good omens #crowley #good omens fanfiction

[alice-the-brave]

“I don’t know,” she hums, licking at a stray drop of melted ice cream running down her hand, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seems like you want to see Steve.”

He pauses, bottle halfway to his lips, still staring down the road. He turns slowly, stares at the side of her head where she’s intent on her ice cream, innocent and unbothered. Pretending she didn’t say something that even just a few months ago would have turned this all ugly. Still might.

            “Good thing you do know better,” he says, voice low and warning.

She frowns at her ice cream, glances up at him, something defiant and stubborn in her eyes.

            “You’re allowed to be friends with him, you know.”

He flinches at the weight of her gaze, at the knowing look in her eyes.

It had been her fault they’d moved. Because Dad hadn’t liked her dad being so close. Hadn’t liked another man having any kind of claim on his wife, or his daughter. But also because Max had always been too smart. Had always seen Billy a little too clearly. She had looked at him, and the people he hung around, the company he kept and had asked questions. Had asked Susan. Susan, who as always, had asked his Dad.

Neil Hargrove hadn’t ever made a habit of asking Billy anything.

            “I don’t need you to tell me what I’m allowed,” He spits, slamming the bottle down on the roof of the car hard enough that she jumps, eyes wide and surprised, as if she’d forgotten what he was like, “You need to learn to mind your fucking business or I swear to God, Max, you’re going to regret it.”

            “You think I don’t?”

That draws him up short.

            “What?”

            “You think I don’t know that half the reason your dad moved us out here was because of what I said?” She aska, crunching the ice cream in her hand into sad, wet crumbs on the gravel. “I didn’t think – I mean. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know he’d – that he’d do that. Any of it.”

She doesn’t look at him as she says it, turns to frown at the gravel below them, like the dirt can hide the way she looks afraid.

It had been the first time Max had really seen how bad his Dad could be. She’d seen him scold Billy before, seen him threaten things, seen him slap him upside the head or push him around. But until then he’d been careful to never really let her see how bad it could get.

But that night, Max had seen it all. That night, Neil had been so incensed by the very idea of what she had inadvertently implied about his son, that he’d forgotten to pretend to be a decent fucking person.

Billy remembers, vaguely, hearing her crying, hearing her yelling something, and Susan dragging her away. He remembers her face in the waiting room of the hospital, the pale, wide-eyed look she’d given him. The way she flinched away from not only Neil but Susan too.

            “I didn’t think mom would say anything to him about it,” she says, fists clenching in her pasty freckled lap, “I didn’t think she’d let him do it.”

He stares at her for a moment. Tries to think past the rushing of his blood, the immediate anger in his gut.

            “Which part?” He asks, and she turns to him quickly, brow furrowed. “You didn’t think she’d let him do which part?”

            “I didn’t think-” she stalls out, looks away, clenches her sticky hands on her thighs. “I didn’t think she’d let him hurt you like that.”

He stares at her, baffled.

It had never occurred to him that Susan might try to stop him.

She tried to diffuse things, sure, tried to head off arguments before they got past stern words and threats, but Billy had always thought she just wanted to avoid the ordeal of it all. Thought that she was scared of breaking her façade of peace.  

He had never expected her to really step in. He’d only ever wondered at her staunch witness to it all. Her refusal to walk away, even as she stood in the corner like a pale-faced wraith, unmoving unless it was to get Maxine out of the room. 

He'd never expected her to step between Billy and his Dad, never expected her to speak against a single thing that he decided to do. 

Neil Hargrove got what he wanted, always. 

But for the first time it occurs to him what that must have looked like to Max. 

Billy’s Mom was the only good thing he’d ever had in this life. She’d tried to defend him from his Dad, tried to stand against him. She’d bit and spit and screamed and hadn’t let him get away with it, not without a fight.  

She’d been his only defense. Right up until the day she left. 

Max had Susan, who had been her confidant, her safe place. He remembers the way Max used to hide behind her when Neil came around, remembers the way she would tug at her hand and whisper.  

He doesn’t remember when she stopped. 

Can’t pinpoint the day she realized her mother wasn’t safe. That she wouldn’t protect her from Neil, wouldn’t keep her secrets, wouldn’t fight for her. Susan never bit back, she never screamed in defiance. She never shielded Max with her own body, never told a soul what happened behind closed doors. She had thrown away both of their lives and torn Max away from the only people who could have saved her from the prison they all lived in. 

Which is worse, he wonders, staring at her glassy blue eyes, tears all dried up. Which is worse, really, being abandoned and left to the wolves, or being abandoned and having her stick around to watch you die? 

He at least could pretend that his Mom might come back for him, that she was bidding her time, that she hurt as much as he did. When he was small and angry and terrified he could pretend that she had made a mistake, that she hadn’t meant it. 

Max had to stare Susan in the face every day and reckon with her betrayal. She didn’t get to pretend.  

“You never think,” he says, turning away, staring up at the cliffs again. 

The birds are loud here, the forest alive in a way that belies the ominous air it exudes at night. Here, in the sun and the chirping of birds, the rustling trees and animals seem serene. It’s enough to make the midnight gloom of it seem like a dream. Enough to make the memory of Harrington standing in the shadows holding a bat caked in dried blood seem false, imagined. Enough to make the memory of Maxine, trembling and fierce and drowned in the blood of his Father seem like a hallucination. Like the strange, dark dreams he has on fever nights, when the sickness and the broken bones stir dark things in his sleeping mind. Impossible things. Things that make him shake and shiver with fear, with horror. It doesn’t seem possible. Seems like a nightmare. She’s getting sunburnt, sitting there on his car, hair up in a scrunchy, wearing his sunglasses. Her hands are sticky with ice cream. Little girl hands. Like they ought to be. 

“Sorry.” She clenches her hands in her lap, fiddles with the hem of her shorts. 

He stares at her for another moment. Breathes. Thinks. Doesn’t let himself spit and snarl, though the urge to is choking him.  

How many times are they going to do this? Wander in circles, biting and snapping and begging for forgiveness, back and forth, forever. He thinks it might drive him crazy. That they can’t just get past it all, that even though his Dad is gone – even though they aren’t going to have to step on each other just to breathe the clean air anymore – there’s still so much rot between them. He wonders why she bothers. Thinks, maybe, that she won’t leave, no matter how vicious he is, just because she’s just as bad. Just because she’s never known when to drop it. Never thought anything through. 

Mad Max, the daredevil, fearless and headstrong and going nowhere fast. 

“Put on your sunscreen,” he says, instead of any of that, reaching into the passenger seat through the open window and tossing the bottle at her. 

She catches it clumsily and tosses back the bitchiest look a fourteen-year-old can muster. 

“You sound like Steve,” she sneers, not as harsh as she usually might.  

Like she’s still testing the waters. 

He snorts and snatches his sunglasses off her face, slipping them on and leaning back against the car as if he’d never gone tense in the first place. 

“Fine, get burnt for all I care, just don’t bitch at me about it later.” 

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but she opens the tube without a word and he can see the edge of a smile on her face even though he isn’t looking. 

#max mayfield #billy hargrove #stranger things #ficlet #in my ideal world neil dies bloody #in this one i made up max did it #neil hargrove is his own warning #billy hargrove redemption #my writing #stranger things fic #hargrove mayfield siblings #max and billy #harringrove #if you squint #pls dont bully me

[sugarmaiiu]

Fuck You, Billy. (Part 3)

Part One

Pairing Billy Hargrove x reader

Time Frame: between season 2 and 3 / October 1984 (Billy hasn't gotten his Lifeguard job yet)

Warnings: t/w rough handling, unadmitted consent, semi-lemon (unprotected)

Word Count: 7.7k

First Person POV

a/n: Hi everyone! This is going to be the last part of the Fuck You, Billy series. Anything I write for Billy x fem reader will most likely use this as background knowledge so if I get a request for Billy x fem reader, consider it as a side part for this series. I've really enjoyed coming back to Tumblr after writers block and getting all this love from the community so thank you so much! NOW to address the text at hand, I wanted to make it long so I could wrap it up. As a thank you from the support I've gotten I included a little bit of spice, some lemon perhaps. So buckle up, and get ready cause its show time!

I didn't expect Billy to stick around.

It's been a month since Billy blackmailed me into being his pretend girlfriend, and like now, Billy is still there everyday waiting for me by his car to pick me up after school.

"Took you long enough," he said taking a puff of his cigarette.

"It's Friday, you can afford to wait," I said, "Besides we still have to wait on Max, so don't you start giving me that tough guy bullshit."

He waited till I was right in front of him to blow out his smoke in my face. It smelt terrible and I couldn't help but cough up a lung when he did it.

He was laughing, but still kept his smug composure, "How many times do I have to tell you that you should watch that mouth of yours when you speak to me."

I was still coughing when I flipped him off, only earning myself more laughs from him in response.

"You'll never win me over when you do that kind of shit, " I said when I could finally breathe again. He rolled his eyes and put it out.

"C'mon let's go," he said putting his cigarette out on the concrete.

"What about Max?"

"I already warned her ahead of time, she'll find another way home. Let's go."

Once we got on the road I looked at him in curiosity. I know him, and I know that he must have had some reason to why he shooed off Max.

He said looking at me from the corner of his eye, "For somebody who claims they hate me so much, you sure do stare at me a lot."

"C'mon Billy cut the shit, where we going?"

"Nosey aren't you? You saying you don't trust me?"

"I don't trust any guy with a mullet," I said with a smirk, knowing it'd get a reaction out of him.

He nodded his head and I could see him mouth the word 'Wow', "I'll remember that."

"Good for you, I'm surprised that brain of yours can remember anything at all."

He kept nodding his head with a smile, saying nothing back for a moment, "And here I was about to tell you where we're heading, but I don't remember anymore baby, so guess we'll both just find out when we get there, won't we?."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah alright, but I'm not getting out of this car if you take me someplace weird."

On the way, I thought about that dinner I had with Billy's family the first day all this started between me and him. The whole family, including myself, ate in complete silence. I thought at least Max and her mom, Susan, would talk when Neil had gone back to his chair in the living room after scoffing down his meal, but the dinner table remained speechless.

I will never forget the way Billy looked that night.

He looked broken and letdown, but I could tell that he was just holding out for the sake of not embarrassing himself. He drove me back home in silence that night too, and he didn't even tell me bye once I got out the car. He simply drove off.

I thought for sure he was going to rid of me, but when I saw him waiting for me outside of school the next day, he acted as if nothing ever happened. I haven't been back at his house since and all I could ask myself is 'what happened outside between him and his dad that night.'

Whatever it was, it really affected Billy.

I tried everything to step away from Billy after that night; after I realized how horrible it would be to be involved in his life.

I refused to take a ride home from him day after day, but he'd just show up at my house while my dad was at work. I only spoke to him in very dry responses, but he'd continue to talk to me anyways. I even tried to give him back the clothes he bought for me, but the next day I found them in the mailbox.

After a week of going on like this he still stayed by my side and tried to stop me everyday after school to give me a ride home.

My heart couldn't take it anymore, seeing how much he was putting in to getting my attention back, so I finally just gave in and took the damn ride home.

Though one weird thing I noticed is that he completely stopped touching me. I was curious to why Billy had stopped, but if I was honest I kind of missed it. I caught myself blushing every time I thought about his legs rubbing in between mine, as he pinned me down to my own bed to do it.

I am full of gross self loathing shame for enjoying it.

I know myself, so I knew that if I was aboard his train before, I was definitely on now. Though not only was I just aboard, I was strapped into my seat. I don't think I could break out of it, even if I went at it with full force.

If the Billy Hargrove Express was going to crash, I'd be going down with it.

Billy handed me a bandana, breaking me away from my thoughts, "Put this over your eyes, don't complain about it either," he said.

"Wait why?"

"Jesus, just put the damn thing on. I just said don't give me shit for it."

I looked at him strangely, but took the bandana from his hands regardless. "I don't trust you at all just so you know. I'm only doing it because, knowing you, you'll probably stop us in the middle of the road again, like some lunatic, till I do."

"Damn straight I will, so hurry up and put it on," he said smiling at my comment.

I took a deep breath before tying the cloth around my eyes, completely blinding myself to where we were heading. As much as I give Billy shit, I do actually at least trust him enough to not be some raging serial killer like Ted Bundy.

Billy turned the music up in the car a little bit louder, making it to where all sound I could hear was he music around us.

It gave me shivers not knowing where we were going and having my senses taken away.

I take it back, maybe he could be another Ted Bundy.

If he was a serial killer, I'd be dead. Due to the smooth way the car traveled across the road and the sheer darkness from the blindfold, I fell asleep.

I woke up to Billy picking me up out of my seat. His touch startled me awake and I reached for the blindfold that cover my eyes, out of panic. He grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"Hey, if I wanted you to see again, I'd already have taken it off," he said now cradling me in his arms.

"I can walk dipshit, put me down."

"Yeah but then I have to guide your ass, and as funny as it would be too see you wipe out on the ground, I'd rather us just get there as quickly as possible."

I huffed and wrapped my hands around his neck. Even though I couldn't see I knew he'd be smiling like the prick he was because he was getting his way.

"You still want down?", he asked after walking us around a few feet.

"Yes, now can you please just put me down."

"Whatever you say," he said before throwing me out of his arms. I let out a scream, afraid of not knowing how far I was being thrown. I was expecting to hit the ground, but almost immediately as my worry began, I crashed into a soft squishy surface.

He was snickering at my sudden fright. while doing so, he stepped towards me, taking off my blindfold before I could even get situated to be sitting upright.

The sudden light burned my eyes as I looked up at the dark and tall figure above me, which I knew was Billy, even though my vision was still blurry.

It only took a few seconds for my eyes to stop burning, when I realized we were out in the woods, and I was sitting on a couch on some random porch.

Attached to the porch was a small cabin, and not too far off from us was a lake. I looked around, seeing nothing but woods and a small wooden dock, sticking out from the lake's shore.

"You blind folded me to take me here?", I asked looking up at him.

He looked down at me into my eyes before kneeling down to my level, "Yep. We're staying here this weekend, and since you don't really know where we are, you kind of don't have a choice in the matter."

"What about your dad?", I said before pausing, "What about my dad Billy, huh? You ever consider that?"

He shushed me. "Yeah I did actually, and he was ok with it."

"Oh really? So you just called my house, hoped it was my dad, then told him I'd be staying all weekend alone with you. Oh, and in case you forgot, Billy, you are literally a stranger to him." I huffed, "Yeah I don't think he would be quite so ok with that like you claim."

Billy rolled his eyes and shoved the bandana into my mouth in one quick swoop of his hand. "Yeah and that's why I didn't tell him the truth y/n. You think I'm an idiot or something?"

I spit out the bandana, onto the floor, almost as quickly as he shoved it into my mouth.

He was really starting to get on my nerves with the whole inconsiderate bratty child act.

I forced Billy to move back when I practically jumped up from where I was sitting, "You can't just decide I'm staying here Billy! And you lied to my fucking dad to get me here. What the fuck?", I said seconds away from slapping him, but I resisted the urge.

"I'm trying to give you a good weekend and you're mad at me? Your dad thinks your on some trip with the yearbook committee for the this year's yearbook. What's the harm. It's not like I kidnapped you," he said getting in my face.

"Yeah Billy, you basically did. Last time I checked, you never asked me if I was okay with this!", I yelled getting increasingly louder as I spoke.

I went to turn away, and for the first time in weeks he grabbed me by my waist and pulled me in close so he could get in my face. He was about to say something, but instead he looked at me in my eyes.

After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, I thought he was going to kiss me, like he had done before. I mentally prepared myself to be kissed, when suddenly he let me go.

I felt the air crawl it's way out of my body. I felt a ache in my heart but only for a moment. I actually got disappointed he didn't kiss me.

I huffed and internally scolded myself for being disappointed when I said, "You know you could have just asked me to come this weekend. You could at least be kind enough to give me the choice."

"Would you have said yes?", he added quickly.

"I don't know. I-", he interrupted me.

"Would you have said yes, y/n?"

I gulped and let there be a pause before I quietly shrugged my shoulders.

"It's not like I despise being around you. I- just-" , I had to pause to let out a nervous laugh, "I know we can have a good time. I mean I've had a fun time around you before."

He scoffed, "You sure as hell don't act like you have."

"Billy, you can't be serious?", I asked.

"No, I'd like to genuinely know, because I sat around for you everyday like some needy bitch, and you walked all over me for days despite that. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is for me?"

I was too stunned to speak.

Afterall, this was the selfish man whore Billy Hargrove in front of me, admitting that.

"I won't say everything has been. . perfect, but," I looked at him ready to admit some feelings, "you've given me good memories since day one."

"Oh yeah the day I blackmailed you, that was a good memory?"

"Not all of that day of course. I mean you for sure scared the hell out of me that day. You were very intimidating, but not all of that day was bad."

He rolled his eyes and walked past me to sit on the couch on, he had previously thrown me onto. He lit up a cigarette and looked out onto the lake.

"I enjoyed going to the movies that day," I laughed in between my words, refusing to let the topic go, "and when you were on my last nerve you suggested we scream it out, and we just flew down that road afterwards with no care about how dangerous it was."

I quickly noticed him start to smile again.

"And dinner with you family wasn't all that bad."

He scoffed in a sort of half-laugh kind of way, "I can believe that other shit you were spewing out just now, but that dinner was fucking horrible."

"Maybe for you, though I don't really know how your side of things went," I said hoping he'd elaborate on it.

He huffed and took a long hit from his cigarette, "You ever even try to smoke a cigarette before?", he asked avoiding the conversation.

"I don't mean to pry Billy, just your dad seemed strange to me is all. I'm just curious if he's always like that or not."

"If you can smoke a whole cigarette with me I'll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed to yourself," he said. Even if the deal was a pretty good offer, he still was avoiding the conversation.

"Ok got it, you just expect me to tell you what's wrong when I start acting off, but your just allowed to avoid the question entirely?"

What I said, must have strung a nerve withing him. He put out his cigarette and within seconds he was standing up, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt, and pinning me against the wall of the cabin.

The sudden impact with the wall left me breathless as I looked up to Billy's angry eyes.

"Is this what you want to know y/n?" he asked spitting in my face as he smoke

"What the fuck is wrong with you?", I asked trying not to focus on my now aching back.

"A lot of shit you don't even want to get me started on," he forcefully let me go and let out an aggressive scream as he began to walk off towards the lake.

"Billy where are you going?" I asked but got no response for.

I pursued him as he marched his way out towards the lake. A part of me felt bad for edging him on, but I was in the right about this. Even if it was a sore topic for him, he didn't have to be such a closed off dick about it.

He sat down at the lake's edge and I stopped to stand behind him.

"The way I held you against that wall," he said after a long awkward pause, "is the same way my dad held me when we walked outside. .all because I brought you into the house."

"I didn't kno-" he shushed me once again, and patted down next to him, signaling me to sit. "I just get so fucking angry living out here. This cow-shit smelling, hick of a town, pisses me off to a extent where you can't even begin to understand," he said as I plopped down next to him.

"Why don't you move back?"

"There's no where to move back to."

"You don't have family back there?"

"My mom," he said scoffing, "but she left me and my dad when I was just a kid."

I could tell his mom was a sore subject for him to talk about. He hung his head and fiddled with his hands as he spoke about her, even if it was just a quick mention.

I decided to get off the touchy subject, "I don't live with him everyday, but your dad is a fucking asshole."

He nodded his head, "Yeah, he is."

"Max told me he's hit you before, which I don't agree with of course. It's really fucked up."

"Yeah well she and her mom are real pieces of shitty work too."

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah I do, and you wanna know why? If it wasn't for them I'd still be in California and my dad wouldn't be as much of a fucking prick asshole," he picked up a nearby stone and threw it as hard as could, to send it skipping across the lake's surface, "He wants me to be happy or some shit that they are in my life, and he wants me to act like their my family, but they aren't. It's not my fucking job to be responsible for Max either, when she's thirteen years old and isn't even my real fucking sister."

"She's still the closest thing you have to a sister."

"Yeah well step-sibling isn't close enough.", he said looking away from me.

I sighed and leaned my head on Billy's shoulder, hoping it would calm him down. Even if it was slightly.

"Just because your dad is a piece of shit doesn't mean you have to be like him, you know? I prefer the real Billy more than the stuck up asshole version of you."

"Yeah and what's that real Billy like?" he asked, obviously still frustrated.

"The real Billy waits for me every day after school to take me home even though he knew I would refuse it."

He stayed silent but I decided to keep going anyways

"Or the Billy who surprises me with a weekend getaway," I said with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, sure seemed to me like you hated that I brought you here," he said, sending another another stone skipping across the water.

"No actually, I think it's very sweet of you to plan this out for us. I just think it was pretty inconsiderate of you and how you went about it," I looked to him, "You did kind of go out of your way to lie to my dad about it and then blindfolded me on the way here, so I wouldn't be able to get back home."

"You really think if I asked, you would have came?"

I made sure he was looking back at me before I spoke, "Yeah Billy, I think I would have," I let out a small laugh, "Hell, then we could have thought of an excuse together for my dad."

He scoffed, "You can't be the same y/n I know. She would get a high horse from me telling her she's right," he finally smiled, but it was different than his usual. It wasn't fake, or didn't come from his ego, this smile was genuine.

"Oh, so now you're saying I was right?"

"Jesus, nevermind, your still who I thought you were."

I lightly swatted his arm in a playful manor, "Well as much as I'd love to tell you, I told you so, I'm glad you told me." I added, "At least I didn't have to slam on my brakes in the middle of a road to make you do so."

"That just proves I'm a lot less work than you."

I scoffed, "You keep dreaming Billy."

He stayed silent for a second before yanking me and himself up off the ground. Before I could react, he picked me up off my feet and carried me to the dock I had noticed before.

"Don't you fucking dare!" I yelled thrusting around in his grasp as he walked.

"Oh yeah admit you're the bigger fucking handful and I'll let you go."

"You're the one who probably spends more than half an hour fixing your hair up in the morning, and I'm the handful?!" I asked not being to help myself from laughing.

He started swinging me as if he were to throw me, but didn't fully commit. He was giving me a warning.

"Last chance, y/n!" he yelled out. I yelled out in a fearful scream, choosing that over responding to him. I grasped onto him for dear life.

"Suite yourself!" he said throwing me into the water. I tried my best to cling onto him, so at least he'd come down with me, but his strength was ten-times my own. It was nothing for him to pry me off before throwing me out.

The water hit me like icy stakes piercing my body. It's much colder in the fall compared to the summer, so I doubt the water could be anything over than sixty-five degrees.

I popped my head out of the water just in time to catch Billy throwing his shirt onto the dock, before jumping in right after me.

I got yet another round of icy cold water to the face.

Seconds later, he too sprang his head up from the surface. He immediately started to shake the water from his hair like a wet dog, and screamed out a loud 'whoo', that echoed across the vast, open lake.

Both of us were laughing as he swam over to me and my shivering body. He scooped me up and wrapped my legs around him so he could hold me.

I blushed. This was the first time he had tenderly held me, since the first day we got into this whole mess.

He came in for a kiss, interrupting my giggles.

"Hmph!", I instinctively let out as his lips came crashing onto mine.

He was hungry. Last time we kissed was a month ago when he kissed me by sheer force. With the way I was kissing back now, I'm sure even he could tell that I wanted it. I wanted it bad.

His hands explored my back as I held onto him myself with my legs. The journeyed across my shirt until they found a resting spot near my lower back.

I broke away first, and for once he actually let me. This was better than I remembered, it was good. Really good.

No matter how great it made me feel, it still didn't change the fact that the water was freezing cold and I was shivering in his arms.

I stuttered from how cold I was, "Can- Can we please go- go back onto the shore?"

He shook his head, denying my request, "Admit it."

"Billy!" I threw my head back in annoyance that he was still even on the same subject that got us into the water in the first place.

"It's your fault if we catch a cold from being out here for too long, so you better hurry it up and just admit it."

I huffed, "Ok for fucks sake Billy," I gave him a mean looked before I continued, "I can be a handful sometimes, just like everyone else, so can we please just get out of this water."

His egoist smile returned, "First one out gets to sleep in the bed," he said suddenly dropping my weight back into the water. I almost went back under, but I was half expecting him to let me go either way.

"You cheating prick!" I yelled out, but he just laughed.

Not only did he beat me to the shore, but he beat me back to the cabin to. It was quite a sight to see him in such a hurry to grab his previously striped clothes off the dock, before running back up to towards the cabin.

It made me smile how Billy reminds me of a happy toddler, who just is over themselves with excitement, when he is having fun.

I finally drug myself back up to the cabin, walking into it for the first time, soaking wet.

"Hey don't move, you're still soaked!" he yelled out from across the small cabin.

"And you aren't?" I yelled back.

I didn't receive a response till he trotted his way back over to me with folded towels wrapped up in his arms, for us to dry off with.

"What just happened out there proves I can be quick about pretty much anything," he said gloating.

"I'm sure you're right. You really are quick about everything." I said with a wink.

He scoffed, "I'm sure you'd like to know. Wouldn't you sweetheart?" he said wrapping a towel around me.

"Maybe I would," , He paused for a half a second, not expecting that sort of response. "Maybe I wouldn't. You'll sure as shit never find out," I continued after a long pause.

"Well your stuck all alone with me all weekend, I wouldn't be so quick to say that."

"Oh yeah and boost your ego? I'd rather go drown in that lake out there."

He rolled his eyes.

Billy was obviously prepared for this trip, and it was certainly no last minute decision on his part. The entire kitchen was stocked for the weekend, and the sheets on the bed had been freshly washed.

Billy even bought me a couple outfits to wear for the weekend, knowing he would take me here by surprise, leaving me no time to prep.

"You do realize how this all seems suspicious to me right?" I said finally snuggling in on the couch after drying off and changing into a silky pajama set he had bought for me.

"How so?", he said coming to sit next to me after turning on the TV across from us.

"You replaced all my clothes, I have no idea where I am, you've had this planned out for a few days at least, and there's a lake about thirty feet from this cabin for easy disposal."

"What am I? Ted Bundy?", he asked, reading my thoughts.

"You could be. I mean you totally check off all the boxes to be a serial killer." I said smirking.

"Well you're the one who said you'd rather drown than sleep with me so if your dead body ends up in the lake that's by your own doing."

I rolled my eyes, "Even if you kidnapped me into bringing me here, I still am glad to spend the weekend somewhere outside of my bedroom," I said tempted to lay my head on his shoulder.

"Is this a thank you I hear?" he said. This was pure fuel for his ego.

"Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"Guess I'll have to kidnap you more often then." he said scooting closer to me.

He and I both let out a little laugh at the wording, and I finally gave in and laid my head on his shoulder as we both looked at the TV.

All I remembered was closing my eyes for a second, but before I could stop it, I was asleep on his shoulder.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was completely dark except for the TV that illuminated us on the couch and the surrounding area.

I blinked a few times before realizing I was still on the couch, I went to stand, but there was an arm around me, that wrapped tighter when I moved.

Billy.

I froze, realizing I had carelessly fallen asleep in the arms of Billy. He groaned from my previous motion, and snuggled me tighter, as to keep me fleshed up against him.

My face was on fire, and as much as I'd like to stay here snuggling. Now that I was up, I had to piss so bad I was going to explode if didn't.

I tried my best to get out of his grasp, but he instinctively held on like how a child holds onto their favorite teddy bear.

"Billy. I need to get up," I said softly while nudging him arm.

He groaned and when I looked back at him, he was shaking his head no.

'Goddamn how is that even when he's asleep, he's still a selfish bastard.' I thought to myself.

I grabbed one of the couch pillows that fell onto the floor and held it to my chest. With my free, I began to lift Billy's arm up from my side.

When I finally had it up enough for me to get through, I quickly got up and replaced myself with the pillow.

When I got back, the lamps had been turned on, and Billy looked to me while standing before an open fridge.

"You know you woke me up the second you started moving me around yeah?" he said half asleep still.

"I had to piss and you wouldn't let me up. What was I supposed to do?," I answered. He didn't respond, only to pull out some cookies from the fridge.

"You keep cookies in the fridge?"

"They taste better cold," he said ripping apart the packaging.

I lifted myself to sit on top of the counter, next to him. I dipped my hand down to steal a cookie, so I could test his opinion out for myself. We both munched in silence as I formed my own opinion.

"Nope, tastes exactly the same," I said.

"That's cause your opinion is shit," he said still with a mouth full of cookie.

"Ha, no. Your opinion is shit, have you seen the type of women you've slept with?" I asked jokingly.

"What's that say about you then?"

"Well I haven't slept with you."

"Not yet, but your curiosity will get the better of you soon enough," he said smiling

I ruffled his bed head, "You wish."

He stood in front of me, trapping me in his arms as he placed them on the counter space on both sides of me, "What's stopping you?"

I laughed, "You're joking right?"

"Afraid not babe."

I rolled my eyes, "You do realize that the only reason you know I even exist is because I turned you down after you tried to get in my pants at some stupid party? You got all handsy with me then too."

"I touched your waist, big deal."

"That's besides the point! The point is, Billy, is that if I sleep with you, you win," I huffed.

He smirked as he leaned in closer to my face, "So that means you want to, but just won't let yourself? All because, what? I'll win?"

I blushed, "Wha? No. Did you not hear me at all?"

He forced me to look at him in the eyes by tugging at my chin, "I heard you, but I can also tell that your lying."

"I'm not lying Billy." I said with butterflies in my stomach.

"C'mon cut the shit y/n.", he said with his typical devilish grin.

If my blush wasn't noticeable before, it for sure was now.

He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "You didn't think I'd notice how you cling onto me when I touch you, did you sweetheart?"

He ran his hand up my thigh stopping just before the edge of the silky sleep shorts he bought for me. He gave my thigh a good squeeze occasionally as he explored the surface.

It was true that his touch always sent thrills all through me, but that doesn't change how I feel on the inside. This only started, because all I was to him was another plus one to his body count.

"The only reason we talk now, is because we're friends. I know that you only wanted me for sex though when this all started, I'm not stupid." I said in a somewhat of a pouting tone, "Why would I sleep with you?"

He paused and let my chin go, "At the party, yeah, I did just want you, you looked fucking amazing," he got a sincere look on his face, "I also told you the next day how you intrigued me. You stood up to me, and I liked that a lot."

"Just because you tell me that I sexually intrigue you doesn't change anything about this, Billy."

"You got my respect then, y/n," he said, "I think your fucking sexy of course, but I liked the way you carried yourself that night. It's way different than any other bitch I've met here."

Had my whole problem really turn out to be a complete misunderstanding?

"How am I supposed to know you were being sincere then? You forced me to kiss you and coerced me into being your fake girlfriend. That's a lot of mixed signals don't you think?"

He hung his head and smiled, "y/n, I'm good enough to get anyone I want.", he said proudly admitting his ego, "but even after you ignored me, everyday, I stayed. Your the only one here in this hick town to ever earn my respect."

I felt my breath crawling its way out of my body with every word he spoke. This was not the Billy I came to know at first. This was the Billy who could finally let his guard down around me.

Though his attitude was awful and his ego was still raging, I finally could see him as a loving partner.

"Just forget it," he said backing off.

"Billy," I said grabbing his hand on my thigh before it could fully leave.

"Did you only threaten me into pretending as your girlfriend, just so you could . . . get to know me?"

"That sounds pretty fucked when you word it like that y/n."

"Yeah well that's what happened you dick, don't avoid the question."

He laughed in a nervous kind of way, "You intrigue me in all ways sweetheart, so yeah, don't get a big fucking head about it."

I was red all over.

I laughed at how he could say something so sweet, but still act like a dick at the same time. It was just the way he was, and it's what I fell for in him.

I pulled his hand to rest up on my waist before I gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I guess you've got my interest too," I said softly, "It's not every day a guy admits he enjoys his time around me."

"Told you I was nice."

"Well, at least now you are."

I looked into his eyes, realizing he was coming in for another kiss. I snickered as I turned my head away, making him kiss my cheek instead. "I didn't give you permission for that," I said.

"Good thing I don't need it," he said as he picked me up off the counter.

"Hey! What the hell Billy?"

"I'll just take what I want, if you won't give it too me, babe," He held me with one hand so he could give a nice tap to my ass, "I'll get you begging for it, in no time."

We got into the bedroom and he didn't even bother flipping on the lights. There was still plenty enough shining in from the living room.

He threw me on the bed before pinning me down with his hands, ramming his lips into mine instantly. I tried to push against him, but it only made him force me down even harder.

Unlike last time I was pinned to a bed by Billy, I was kissing back. I couldn't resist this any longer, but the realization of that only made me angrier to be proving him right. My anger fueled the kiss even more, only adding more steam to the fire happening around us.

He freed up one of his hands to aggressively explore my body. He let his hand travel across my torso letting it rest on my ribcage for a moment. It didn't take him long to discover there was nothing being worn underneath the shirt.

"Well what do we have here?" he said breaking away from the kiss.

I blushed and turned my head away, I was in so much shock I could barely speak, "Mine- It was- The lake- It got wet." I fumbled with my words, but it still got the message across. He laughed, menacingly, before slamming his lip back onto mine.

He started exploring the new discovery, but held himself back from going over the top. He was toying with me. Teasing me.

I put my newly free hand on his cheek so I would have a deeper grasp on the kiss. I tried to move from his cheek down to his chest, so I could do my own exploring, but at the touch of his collarbone he stopped, breaking our kiss.

I hated the feeling of the cold air on my lips when he moved away, but I hated it even more that I was actually pouting about it.

"Beg me," he said

I shook my head no out of stubbornness, so he gave my thigh a good hard love tap. I let out a whimper due to the sheer unexpected force that came to me.

"Say it y/n."

"I can't- I can't." I said hiding my face with my free hand.

"Why not sweetheart?" he whispered. I stayed silent and simply held onto his wrist that pinned down my other hand.

I couldn't think straight due to all the emotions I was feeling. I was nervous, excited, and my whole body burned with lust.

I was to embarrassed to speak, but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked what was happening between us. I wondered frequently how he would be in bed, since he was always the one to bring it up. In all that time I thought about this, I never expected that I would be left so speechless.

Even in the dim light, I caught a glimpse of his cocky smile, before he flipped me over onto my stomach.

I attempted to lift my face from the bed, but he shoved it back down into the fluffy comforter with his hand.

"If you aren't going to use your mouth to talk then you don't need it at all," he said after giving me another spank to my ass. The sound echoed off the walls, luckily covering the squeal I made. "I'll just let the rest of you speak for itself."

With no struggle from my part, he lifted my shirt, exposing my whole back to him.

I tightly grasped onto the blankets as he kissed down my back, but it wasn't long till his lips got bored and he made his way further down to my shorts.

After removing those pretty quickly, he started to take off his own clothes.

"Wait- Wait, Billy," I said lifting myself weakly from the bed.

If it wasn't the sight of his bare upper body that made me blush, it was for sure going to be what I had to say, "I'm- I-"

He flipped me around the rest of the way, back onto my back. He leaned over me, letting a hand rest on my face while using the other to balance himself. "You know you talked all that shit, but you can't even speak right now. Slow down so I can understand you."

I took a deep breathe and looked at him, "I'm not on any pill," I managed out.

He laughed, "That's what your worried about right now?"

"I think it's a perfectly good thing to be worried about right now, so yes," I quickly blurted out.

"This isn't my first time you know, now I can't say the same for you, but-"

"This isn't my first time either, thank you," I interrupted.

He raised a brow, "Oh really? With how nervous you are, and how defiant you've been. I figured it was."

"No, I- This isn't new for me. Just how you are is new for me." I said speaking more quietly as I went on.

"You mean somebody with experience is new to you?" he laughed.

"I guess," I looked away, "Your very handsy."

"How could I not be? You've been keeping me waiting," I gave him a pouty stare in return.

"Careful for now, pill for next time. Ok?," he continued.

I nodded my head in agreement. I trusted him, and he's right, he does have way more experience than I have. If he says that he'll be careful, I trust him.

"Now where were we?" he said while scaling his eyes down my now exposed body.

After plenty of fore-play on both sides, he had me close to him and finally put himself into position on top of me. The embarrassment I felt from the noises I made when he started, could single handedly put me in my grave.

He completely blurred my mind after putting me through multiple rough and intense rounds.

He always kept things interesting, never letting me take it for too long in a certain position. Whether I was pressed into the bed or thrown into his lap, no matter how he was ramming into me, I held him tight.

I've never felt such an intense emotion before and quite frankly, I was addicted. I wouldn't complain when he would hastily go back in for more, even if it left me with no time to rest.

I very much so regret calling him quick at 'everything'.

He would edge me for what felt like an eternity before he would allow me to spill. He always made me wait for him, no matter how good I was feeling. I shamefully admitted how wrong I was for calling him quick, earning myself a even quicker pace at which we were going.

After hours of endless pleasure, he decided enough was enough, after seeing how utterly worn out I was. It was still dark outside, but I knew the sun would be coming up soon. I needed rest.

He pulled me in close before laying beside me on the bed. Stroking my head as I thought to myself.

Even when he wasn't ramming himself inside me, he could be so vicious and forceful, but I learned there was a reason to his extremely rude demeanor. He was only so snappy so he wouldn't ever have to confront his feelings head on.

He tries to pretend he doesn't care about anyone, but really he just wants no one to view him as weak. He was conditioned to think that way.

"How about instead of screaming matches in my car, we just do this to let out some anger," he said pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Then we'd be at this all the time," I responded rolling my eyes.

"I can shut you up again if you keep up with that attitude."

I cuddled into his chest, saying nothing in response.

"Yeah that's about what I thought," he said wrapping his arms around me.

"I thought you liked it when I stood up you," I questioned.

"Yeah, but I like it when you suck it up and just be mine as well."

"Pretend yours? Or actually yours?" I asked quietly.

He snickered, probably about how shy I was at the moment, compared to usual, "Actually mine."

"I think I'd like that too."

We both had our problems, and Billy's family life was going to for sure be a problem later, but right now I could be happy. Right now I trusted Billy.

Even though his scary and unpredictable behavior would always leave me feeling uncertain, but he's now showed me multiple times that he can normally handle things, even if its still in his own snarky matter. He showed me that I didn't have to ask him to change, that he would just do it on his own for my sake.

The weekend flew by after a days full of more intense times in bed, cooking meals together, talking about where'd we like to get jobs at for the upcoming summer, and working out with one another. He went out of his way to create a personal routine for me, so I wouldn't feel left out. I didn't expect to feel sad when it was time to head home, but I was.

It felt like Billy and I were already living our life together.

We completed our final task of packing all the leftover food into the trunk of his car, and now it was time to leave. I wistfully watched the cabin disappear from view as we drove away and began our journey of heading back to civilization.

When this started between us in the theater of Hawkins High, I was not in love with Billy Hargrove. In fact I thought he was a total dickhead. I'm not wrong though, he totally was.

Despite it, he made me feel alive. I had to tell myself, I can't fall in love with Billy Hargrove.

I laid awake at night, in my own bed, hoping I wasn't going to fall, because why would any person fall for such a self centered man.

What we had was beyond my control. I would yell out screams of frustrations till I would wake up the next day, unable to speak. I wanted to control my feelings, and I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't.

Even though I wanted to hate him, I always knew we were much more than just pretend. I knew I would inevitably fall, so once I embraced it, everything changed.

He opened himself up and I was able to see the true Billy. He was unpredictable and inconsiderate at times, sure, but he always cared for me in his own bitchy way.

He went out of his way to check up on me even if it was in a snarky tone. It was just who Billy was, and I finally understood that. I finally felt like I would be safe to care for him as well.

I can't believe I'd ever actually admit it, but I fell in love with Billy fucking Hargrove. It was clear that I was his, and he was mine.

No matter what we would have to go through, we would be each other's future.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #stranger things smut #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction

[theladycarpathia]

Harringrove week day 1: Right where you left me

Steve doesn’t bother looking up when the door to the classroom opens. He knows who it is.

“Didn’t expect you to be at prom,��� he says, staring up at the ceiling. He’s lying flat on his back on one of the tables, not caring if it creases his suit or not. He’s already taken off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair. His parents aren’t around to take pictures, or to straighten his tie, or even notice when he stumbles in the door at 2 am.

Hell, they didn’t even do any of that at his own prom.

“Wouldn’t expect it to be your scene either,” Billy Hargrove says, closing the door behind him and shutting them in darkness once again. Steve hadn’t bothered with any of the lights, figuring that someone is less likely to find him and turf him out that way. He’s definitely not meant to be in here.

“Came as Robin’s date,” Steve explains, because there’s no fucking way he’d do this for anyone else. He left high school and going back after the fact is just pathetic. “And she’s busy.”

With her tongue down Vickie’s throat in the back of the auditorium, which was the whole point. Steve was only ever a distraction, just enough that when Robin vanished halfway in, no one would really question it. Judging by the flasks hidden in suit pockets and tiny clutches, no one is going to notice much of anything.

“You could go home,” Billy suggests, not without reason. Vickie could give Robin a ride, or Nancy and Jonathan at a push. Steve doesn’t need to be here. But he doesn’t want to go home to an empty house either. Where he can sit in the dark with a bottle of his father’s scotch and think about all the things he was meant to have. The things he wants. The life he’s never going to get.

“Nah,” Steve says, watching the dark mass that is Billy wind his way through the tables. He’d spotted Billy a few times in the milling crowds: at the punch bowl, dancing with Heather. Steve had had to take a breath and turn his head away. No good can come from going down that rabbit hole. “Got nothing better to do.” Billy snorts and hauls himself up onto the table next to Steve’s.

“King Steve not got a date for Saturday night?”  he asks, but any of the bite that would have been there a year ago is missing. Without Neil, Billy just doesn’t have any of the same edges.

“I did,” Steve says to the ceiling. Even in the dark, he can’t bring himself to look at Billy. “She’s busy.”

“I don’t mean little miss band geek,” Billy says wearily, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. He lies back, taking up a similar position to Steve. Steve momentarily wishes that the tables were closer, that he might be able to feel some of the warmth from Billy’s body. “Someone you actually like.”

Steve inhales, and stops short when he doesn’t find the right words.

“I don’t have anyone I like,” he lies. Because he had liked some of them - statistically, after dating every available girl in Hawkins, he was bound to like some of them. The problem was that it wasn’t enough.

“Maybe you’ve dated every eligible girl in town,” Billy smirks, echoing Steve’s line of thought. “You’ll have to start all over again.”

Steve makes a face. Once you’ve been on three dates, had sex and then never called her again, he’s not likely to get a second chance.

“What about you and Heather?” Steve asks, because he has to know. “Big romance there or is it a summer fling until she heads off to college?”

“We’re not dating,” Billy says shortly. Something eases in Steve’s chest.

“She got dumped a few weeks before prom. There wasn’t anyone else available and I didn’t have a date.” A car drives past the window, headlights briefly lighting up the room. Steve can see the line of Billy’s jaw, the soft curve of his bottom lip, before the beam is gone. Steve sighs and turns his head back to the ceiling. Only trouble lies that way in thinking too long of Billy Hargrove’s mouth.

“So you weren’t going to come otherwise?” Steve asks, and Billy snorts loudly.

“I’m not a prom kind of person, Steve-o,” Billy says, stretching his arms above his head. “But if I could piss off Aaron Samuels, then I figured that might be worth an evening of my time.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you,” Steve agrees. It’s Billy’s favorite pastime. Being an asshole.

Billy grunts, one hand dangling off the edge of the table. Long, thick fingers, a scar winding its way around one knuckle. Steve’s never asked about it. He doesn’t ask about anything that might bring up Neil, or California.

“What would you be doing?” Steve asks, because he knows that his own options were ‘empty house and blackout drunk.’ Most of his friends are here, and although he knows that Dustin and the others wouldn’t mind him crashing the Wheelers’ basement, he feels like he still has some standards. 

“Fucking anything else,” Billy grunts and pulls himself up. “Man, small towns. All the fucking same. Hay bales and proms and hoedowns.” Steve gives a surprised snort of laughter.

“You’ve lived here for like two years now? How is your idea of Hawkins that fucked up?”

“It’s just like that,” Billy mutters churlishly, pulling his legs up and folding them under him. “I half expected cow tipping.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut. Some stories don’t need to be told.

“So...you’re still going?” he asks, the words feeling like thorns in his throat. He thinks he shouldn’t have asked. He can deal with not knowing. He can just go about his life, going to shifts at Family Video and arguing with Robin and ferrying the kids around, and not knowing that Billy is gone until it’s too late and he overhears some old biddies gossiping about how that nice boy from the community pool just vanished into the night.

It would hurt, sure. But it would be easier than feeling that he was waiting for the ax to drop down onto his head at any second.

Silence.

“Yeah,” Billy says finally, voice barely carrying in the few feet between him and Steve. “Yeah, I’m still going.”

Steve closes his eyes. It was never going to change. Billy’s never going to be the kind of person happy with a small town like this. He was never going to stay.

“Max will miss you,” he says instead, because it’s easier than what he wants to say. It’s true anyway: Max and Billy have this weird relationship going that is more arguing than anything else but he knows her. Knows that she looks up to Billy, needs him at her back.

“I’ll miss the little shit too,” Billy says, and there’s enough of a dip in his voice that Steve knows that it’s true. “But maybe in a few years, she can come join me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, weakly. Max misses California too, but it’s not the same. Billy needs it like air, like the whole damn state is a wound in his side that needs healing over by salt water and surfers.

Billy sighs suddenly and jumps down off the table. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor is jarring in the silence. 

“I’d better…” he says, jabbing a thumb at the door. There’s still the faint beat of music in the distance, their vanishing going unnoticed by anyone else. Once upon a time, Steve would have ruled court at dances like these. Turns out the guy who took his crown took his heart too. “Heather is probably looking for me.”

“Don’t put out on a first date,” Steve says, still staring skywards. There’s a missing ceiling tile here somewhere: he used to see it every day in this class, when he wasn’t staring at Sabrina Rizzo’s legs.

“I’m not that easy, Harrington,” Billy retorts and Steve swallows. No, he’s not.

“Have fun,” he says, a clear dismissal. He doesn’t look, even as he hears Billy walk away, sees the light as the door is opened onto the main hallway. 

“Steve?” Billy asks, hand still on the door handle. Steve turns his head and feels his heart begin to race as he sees Billy in the dim light: long legs in black, white shirt unbuttoned down to his collar bones, suit jacket slung over one arm. He remembers the taste of peppermint, the faint smell of cookies and a fresh layer of snow. The warm light of the Byers house mere feet behind him and the cold, deep expanse of the woods in front of him. There’s cigarette smoke on the wind, Billy in a long, dark coat leaning against a tree.

He remembers the softness of Billy’s mouth. How cold he’d felt after Billy pulled away.

“I can’t,” Billy says, the words coming out in a tangled rush. Like he thinks he owes Steve some explanation, like Steve hasn’t known for the longest time. “I can’t. Not here. It’s a small town and…if my dad ever found out…If he ever found out, he’d kill us both.”

“I know,” Steve says quietly. It’s why - five months later - he has never pushed Billy. Never asked for anything after that brief, perfect kiss. 

“I’m just tired of being afraid, Steve,” Billy says miserably, and then the door drops shut behind him, once again leaving Steve behind.

#harringroveweek #harringroveweek 2022 #harringrove #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #prompt: mrs click's classroom #sorry #it's kind of sad #I wrote this prompt last #and wanted them to suffer #idiots in love #pining #neil left but Billy's still afraid #he won't risk steve #afraid of neil #and being caught #Robin's having a great prom though #harringrove harvest

[hargrove-mayfields]

Sometimes it’s hard for Billy to look in the mirror.

Most of the time it’s for obvious reasons, cuts and bruises that he doesn’t really want to acknowledge littering his face. Nobody likes to see themselves torn up like that, to look weak. Especially not in his case, where under the welted skin and deep bruises and blood, he looks just like the man who put them there. He can’t escape it, the fact he’s a Hargrove, his fathers son.

He thinks about that reflection when he snaps at Max, when he feels just a little too bitter in a day and takes it out on somebody else, messes everything up again. He knows he’s just like his old man. Throw in an earring and grow out his hair, and he looks enough like his own person, but the attitude, the permanent scowl. It gets to him sometimes.

These days, looks are just about the only goddamn way he ever wants to be compared to Neil again. That’s a new mission of his since coming to Hawkins. He’d failed at it for the first few months, but now that he’s older and he’s got adult responsibilities to worry about too, he just wants a chance to get better. He swore he would.

Fact of the matter is, he still can’t make eye contact with his own inherited deep blues when he’s looking in the mirror, battling the humidity to get that one curl in the front to lay just right, or being careful to apply only a perfectly subtle amount of charcoal liner that Neil won’t notice.

There’s another reason for that - one that’s a lot less superficial too- and it has to do with his momma, the other half of him.

The time passing means it’s been more than a decade now since the last time he’d talked to her, even longer since he’d actually seen her. The kind of wound that doesn’t show on the skin, in the reflection, but that never heals.

Billy’s momma was the kind of lady who was never very particular about her appearance. Between raising a kid practically on her own and taking care of her husband like a second child, she didn’t think it was in the top list of her priorities. A list handwritten by her husband and left by her pillow every night.

Still she had an old vanity, a real beauty in it of itself, hand built and painted a pretty white color. Around the top it was ornate, flower trimmings and fancy inlays, decorated with pearls and flowers and things.

Back when Neil still pretended to like her, he’d fixed it up real nice as a gift to his pretty little girlfriend. He’d buy Billy’s momma all kinds of things to fill it up with too, perfume bottles and new flashy jewelry and decent quality makeup. She never asked him where he got the money for any of that. He wouldn’t have answered anyways. That particular illusion was never going to last.

And that was still before Billy came along.

By the time he was in the picture, momma never sat at her vanity anymore. She couldn’t sit and try to get the curlers she’d put in the night before to lay down just right around her face, or put on just a little bit of makeup, the way Neil approved of it but that still made her feel pretty. Worth something. Not with all these new responsibilities looming.

They were the same in that way. Billy and his momma. Except they were opposites. When she was getting dolled up, it was usually for Neil. To avoid a beating. When Billy did it, it was to piss his dad off. Get a reaction. Stand up for himself for once.

That’s not why he remembers it though, his momma's habits.

Billy remembers that vanity well. Even better, he remembers the way the big mirror bowed in a perfect arch right before it shattered on the pavement because Neil threw it to the curb. The smell of old wood and dusty paint and leftover Estée Lauder burning into ash in the backyard. He remembers the destruction of his memories better than he does the actual event.

Being, the time he spent with his momma in her lap, staring with wonderfilled eyes back at their double reflections.

He always thought he looked like his momma. He had wanted to anyway. People would tell him how much he looked like his dad, that he’d grow up to be such a handsome and strong boy. His response had initially been that he’d rather be pretty like his momma, but a backhand across the face quickly reoriented that answer to a painful acknowledgment and an eye roll behind their backs.

His momma told him he was pretty regardless. What did anybody else know?

Back then, Billy had always thought his mother was the smartest person in the world, and hell, leaving her sorry excuse of a husband behind might’ve proved that to be true, if he was on the outside looking in. If he wasn’t a part of that forgotten memory.

Doesn’t change much though. He’s way past blaming her for it. A decade is too long to be mad at someone. Or maybe he’s just gone soft.

That's what she would’ve wanted.

She’d done her best to instill kindness in him. Between strokes of a hair brush through stubborn tangles and a gentle dusting of a dry makeup brush over his freckled button nose, momma would whisper all kinds of affirmations to him. Promises that he’d grow up to be someone who made a difference. How much she loved him. To use those moments to do some damn good in the world.

For a while it seemed like she’d been preparing him for the day she’d up and leave him. Like if she promised enough times that she was raising him right and caring for him that he wouldn’t be hurt when she took off. It might not’ve worked, but here he is still thinking about it, so, he sure as all hell didn’t forget her kindness.

It’s more like he just forgot what to do with it, and all he retained was a complex in the place of a life lesson.

Sort of.

Part of it too was that he had a more important lesson to learn from his time with momma, and that was how to keep Neil off his case. ‘Cause that’s what she was doing; As long as she was sitting at that vanity doing something, Neil couldn't hit her.

It was a nice piece of furniture, he wasn’t going to risk breaking it when he could just as easily bash her head off of the living room coffee table that only cost them nine bucks at a yard sale. That and the fact that any time she was doing something to improve upon her appearance, he couldn’t find something to complain about. Being a good, subservient wife that cleaned herself up for him wasn’t something he could justify beating her over.

And that was exploitable.

Still is to this day. Billy won’t get hurt if he busies himself with something important. Not that standing at his makeshift vanity counts -That makes him a self-absorbed faggot, as a matter of fact- but he’ll do other things. Like making Susan some bitter tea or cleaning the whole house or doing his homework. Stupid shit he’d probably do anyways, but that he makes a special point of doing when Neil’s watching. Just in case.

His dad might pace around behind him when he’s being productive, might threaten what he’ll do through gritted teeth and hit Billy a little harder the next day, but he will back down, given the right excuses. That’s probably the only damn reason why Billy survived the night that Max ran away.

Probably the reason he’s so unhappy all the time too. He hates being vane, he hates the consequences of it mostly, but he has to do it. It’s all he has, because has to flaunt something for the people in this town. If it wasn’t for the act he puts on, he’d have been dead a long time ago.

It makes him feel fake. Nothing belongs to him. Everything’s a trick he learned from momma or a way of self defense. A mask covering up whatever reflection is truly his. He has a few things; his hair, his car, his friends. But no matter what there’s still always the slightest influence of somebody else.

He doesn’t grow his hair past his shoulders, because then he’s too much like momma. He bought a Camaro instead of a firebird like he wanted, because a firebird is a girl's car. He chooses people his dad would approve of, turned away all the friends he had that fell out of favor, and did his damndest to force his step sister to do the same.

It’s shitty and he hates living that way. He thinks it might be easier to be himself. But being himself is so dangerous, he’s not sure he wants that either. He’s torn in two pieces, the real Billy, and the reflection of himself he shows to other people.

Enter Steve Harrington. The first person Billy meets that holds him to being real.

Steve is the first to not buy his act, not from that first curious glance across the parking lot. Coming from the same status, someone that used to be in his place until he fell from grace, he always knew there was more to Billy Hargrove.

Billy feels like he has to play it up harder instead of showing Steve that truth. He doesn’t owe anything to that entitled brat anyways. It’s not out of jealousy, that Steve gets to be pretty and soft. It’s survival.

So he pushes him a little harder the next time they have gym together. Mocks him in the showers, only to run out of the locker rooms with his still hair dripping down his shirt so he doesn’t have to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrors above the sinks.

But Steve doesn’t let him quit. Because he is a brat, and he doesn’t like being told no. Or being knocked in the face when Billy is done with his shit. His lies. For someone who hides behind a fake version of himself, honesty is important to him, more than getting Max and getting the hell back home. He thought that would be the end of Harrington minding his business, once he lost that fight. Beatings always worked to keep him hateful.

Steve saw something that night he wasn’t supposed to though.

He saw the tears in Billy’s eyes and the bruises on his skin that he hadn’t put there. Steve had only cracked him on his nose, the bruises on the back of his neck and the side of his face belonged to somebody else. He seemed to have Billy well figured out, despite his efforts to push him away.

Harrington is relentless, and honestly, after Steve follows him around at school, sitting next to him in every class, rivaling him in basketball every time, and parks in his parking spot for weeks, Billy is charmed. To see the same intensity he put into the world turned around on him, with a different purpose, trying to get close instead of further apart, it’s so familiar. It’s the same routine he’s been forcing his whole life.

So he gave in. Spent a good thirty minutes at his almost vanity undoing curlers he hid under a hoodie the night before, fluffing up his hair and preening like any of the other desperate bitches that got a chance with Steve fucking Harrington. Putting on lipgloss, clipping in a diamond earring, bouncing into his tightest jeans, hyping himself up. It’s all routine.

Except covering the bruises with makeup and doing his hair through tears doesn’t make that night go away on its own. The guilt and the ugliness that look back at him don’t fade like the redness in his eyes.

Until.

“You look good.”

Steve said it like it was nothing. Like Billy hadn’t gone through a crisis about the way he looked before driving out to meet him here. On the edge of the quarry, too high up from the water to see their own inky black reflections.

Luckily, it’s also too dark for Steve to notice that Billy is blushing as red as he was before he caked his face. “Shut up. I always look good.”

Steve has the audacity to laugh at him. The sound bubbling up and echoing off the rock walls. They’re walled in. But they’re free.

A breeze blows past and knocks Billy’s pristine hair back in his face. There’s a compact in his shirt pocket, and were he on a date with a girl, he would’ve taken it out and fixed himself back up. Ignored the preening chick at his side to do it right back, scare them off with his bullshit personality.

But he isn’t. He’s sitting on his hands next to Steve Harrington, who says, all soft like he means it, “No, I mean.. It’s different. Pretty.”

That’s all Billy’s ever wanted to hear.

Not like Neil. Not like momma. Not like a bruised up kid.

Pretty.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah. I like the makeup. It’s nice.”

“Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, Harrington.” His default is to be defensive. He can’t help it. Nobody’s supposed to know.

But Steve, Steve just gets everything right.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he declares, “It’s not a big deal.”

Billy can’t stop smiling, sparkling lips drawn back into the expression of the only genuine happiness he’s felt in years. Maybe when he’s around Steve, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Maybe this, the tender compliments, the comfort in another, the expression..

This is the real Billy.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #slight gnc billy #neil hargrove #billy hargrove’s mother #my writing #ej writer #this was a request! #an anon asked for soft traumatized billy #so I wrote this! #but I accidentally deleted my drafts and lost the request #so if you’re that anon #here it is!!

[coolsomejet]

Mitchell character analysis

Mitchell Peterson has to be one of the most complex characters in any children’s show. His character is a big reason why I love this show so much, and I think that it actually sends positive messages to kids. LONG post ahead

Mitchell Peterson is a recurring character in Ready Jet Go! The series has 64 half-hour episodes, each with two segments, which makes 128 segments in all. Out of the show’s 128 segments, Mitchell only appears in 34. That means he only appears for 26% of the series. And yet, he has had a lasting impact on the show’s fans, to the point where he’s treated as though he’s one of the main characters.

His role in the show is to be a wannabe detective who spies on Jet, regularly trying to expose his alien identity. This, of course, always backfires. Most of the time, he acts sarcastic, blunt, and egotistical, always rejecting help from others because he wants to be a “real” detective.

And yet, under this haughty facade hides a completely different person. Mitchell is revealed to be incredibly socially awkward, and has no idea how to talk to people. He once tried to get info about a recipe Mindy was making, but had to hide it under the pretense of borrowing a cup of salt or sugar, “whichever is easier to borrow.” Mindy explicitly invites him to join the team, but Mitchell declines, saying that he would get in the way. He was just offered an opportunity to make friends but rejected it.

He prides himself on being the soapbox derby champ, and has people go “Whoa, it’s Mitchell!” but when he won for the third time, no one cheered for him until Jet did. Before Jet started chanting, Mitchell stood to the side, all alone, staring wistfully into the distance. He had fans, sure, but not friends.

Although Jet’s friends don’t appreciate his spying (Jet himself doesn’t seem to care all that much), they still offer Mitchell multiple chances to join them, to be their friend. But Mitchell, every time, rejects them. Take this choice quote from “Holidays in Boxwood Terrace”

Sean: Why don’t you join us in the show? I mean, we're all friends.

Mitchell: Um, I’m a detective. I don’t do “friend.”

Mere minutes after this scene, Mitchell sits in the auditorium, getting teary-eyed over not being in the Christmas show.

Mitchell: That looks like fun. I can only imagine.

This poor boy just wants to have friends, but his ego, his lack of social skills, and his drive to be a detective all prevent him from doing this. Mitchell may as well be his own worst enemy. This is clearly self-destructive behavior. And he’s what - five, six, seven? Someone get this kid a therapist ASAP.

Of course, later on, Mitchell shows his kind side when he saves the Christmas pageant by memorizing Sean’s song. He later confessed that he really did want to be a part of the show, but he didn’t know how to ask. The rest of the characters assure him that he can always be a part of whatever they’re doing.

I felt like this scene spoke to introverted and shy kids everywhere. This scene basically tells them that there ARE people who are willing to let them in and be their friends. Someone always loves you, and you are never alone.

This was step one in thawing out Mitchell’s frozen heart. In season 2, he gets progressively nicer. Of course, there are still moments where he makes snarky, deadpan comments, and his ego biting him in the butt was a plot point of “Racing on Sunshine,” but Mitchell went through massive character development.

Take for example, season 1’s “Mindy’s Mystery,” where Mitchell repeatedly rejects help from the kids. Contrast that with season 2’s “Sean’s Robotic Arm,” where he willingly helps save Sean’s Neil Armstrong action figure. It’s like Yin and Yang.

Mitchell is an antagonist in the most literal sense - someone or something who goes against the main character. An antagonist does not equal a villain. Mitchell isn’t evil, just rude sometimes, and he’s only a little boy. Despite being a threat to Jet’s alien identity, there are multiple moments, even in season 1, that shows his support for Team Propulsion.

He honestly compliments Mindy’s cake in “Solar System Bake Off”

He lets Mindy and the others solve the mystery with him in “Detective Mindy”

His camaraderie with Jet throughout “Earth Camping,” where they put their smarts together to get back to the campsite.

His longing to be part of the group in “Holidays in Boxwood Terrace”

Him entrusting Jet to take care of Cody in “Pet Sounds”

Him letting Team Propulsion find new scooter wheels for him in “Try and Try Again”

He was just a complete sweetheart in “Magnet, PI”

Him thanking Team Propulsion for finding his dog, Cody and making a new collar for him in “You Can Call Me Albedo”

Him helping save the figure in “Sean’s Robotic Arm”

Him helping the gang predict the weather in “Eye in the Sky”

Him enjoying Jet’s buried treasure in “Treasure Map” (despite not knowing that it was from him). Heck, the fact that Jet went out of his way to do something nice for Mitchell is a testament to their friendship

Him rescuing the kids with his rowboat in “One Small Step”

I love it when shows and movies demonstrate that no one is truly bad (or that no one is born bad) and everyone has a good side, or works with protagonists that want to make friends with absolutely everyone, even jerks. Stuff like Steven Universe, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Fruits Basket, Sailor Moon, Madoka Magica, Phineas and Ferb, Batman TAS, Mister Rogers, Trigun, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Futurama, Wander Over Yonder, Sofia the First, MLP:FIM etc. Even Craig Bartlett’s other shows, Hey Arnold and Dinosaur Train, fall into this category, with Arnold and Buddy wanting to be friends with everyone. Arnold in particular is polite with even his rivals.

I think the basic message(s) of “no one is bad inside” and “you have the capacity to change and grow” and “sometimes, people just need to be shown a little kindness” are important for young children to learn, and Jet will always be one of my favorite protagonists because of his unrelenting positivity and kindness. But this isn’t about him, it’s about Mitchell.

Now that the Space Camp movie is coming out soon, and the summary is about Jet and the others having to save the day “without Mitchell discovering what the heck is going on” (their exact words), I am cautious about the movie. If they undo Mitchell’s development and have him attempt to expose Jet’s alien identity once again, I’m gonna be really annoyed. I know that there’s a four-year gap in between One Small Step and Space Camp, but given that the show is still rerunning, kids would pick up on Mitchell’s character growth. Kids aren’t stupid, you know.

I just hope that the movie will prove me wrong.

#ready jet go #pbs kids #Mitchell Peterson #character analysis #analysis #long post

[degozarumyu]

okiiii ep90 spoilers timeeeeeee (very long very rambly very image-filled post ahead)

ohhhhhhh my fucking goddddddddddddddddd aaahahjahjajhhjhudsghiuydaghuygduysajhgdjsahdha (shaking) (crying) (vibrating at dangerous speeds)

this episode completely changes the context of valvelgear not being yuuhi's disk in the s3 visual and I am!! not ok!!!!!!!!!!!!! they may be 8.88 million faceless npcs but they are my 8.88 million faceless npcs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

grrrrggahrggharhgarhghgargharaghrgaghjeagrahjgadfgdashgfghahgsda ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

HEY GUYS CHECK OUT HOW HARD I CAN CRY like ueueueueueue see kuaidul? you didn't need to become someone else to be loved by the creator bc he already loves you :((( gwahhhhhhh

can i also just appreciate how consistent they made the animation this ep like u can tell that some scenes at the end for example seem to be done by the person in charge of a lot of yuuhi duels e.g. vs tell/vs yuuna by the way they do yuamu's hair and background faces but its a lot more 'on model' than usual lol, I love their style regardless but they rly put in a lot of effort this time!!! <3<3 thank u gr staff i love u and owe u my life 💕💕💕

also. BRUH

yuuga stop disappearing for 2 seconds challenge!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wonder if its bc now that kuai is 'dead' the creator is released? and there can only be one of them existing in that 'reality' at a time for some reason?? 🤔 or he just straight up got yoinked in the world switch lol (or with the preview showing the hat parasite aliens attacking maybe the non-kaizo parts of his weird goha president helmet thing had something to do with it haha)

after seeing it mentioned by a jp fan on twitter I've started to wonder if they rly are in some sort of alternate reality/parallel universe to 7s tho given the 'inconsistencies' e.g. questionable kamijou family timeline, luge and zaion being aliens but luke and neil being (presumably) human, aliens/mik/uts seeming to not exist in 7s era....... i'm still not even halfway through 7s so I can't speak on any of this at all lol but I found it interesting! plus they mentioned rovian and london being cousins and romin and roa also being cousins wouldn't make sense if they were descendants/ancestors :thinking:

I love basing theories and speculation purely off of 'wouldn't it be cool if...' B)

ANYWAYS the way kuai made his final perfect monster representing his ideal (merged) self in transamu prime full armour nova and yuudias could Still manage to take it from him :)))))))) can't have shit in kuaidul spacetime

haha. im so normal guys.

its a very simple solution really, love someone but are also jealous of them? simply absorb their soul and become them! gg ez

how to get the approval of your father figure that you absorbed in 1 easy step!

oh yea speaking of full armour nova who else up staring at the card art for 15 hours straight

btw i am also normal about how in this imagined fusion of their soul galaxies while it has aspects of both transamu rainac and prime the actual body is yellow bc kuai wanted to become the milky way to be closer to the creator but not necessarily become yuudias because he wanted to receive that love and acceptance for himself :))))))))

eldest sibling kuai who was made to do the hard work and raise (literally create) his other siblings without appreciation vs. 'perfect' youngest sibling yuudias who was the favourite child given everything the oldest could never have from birth................

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

im really so glad they let kuai redeem himself in the end by choosing to let himself die (?) rather than taking advantage of yuudias' kindness and possessing him.... as much as I would have adored keeping him around by letting them share the body lolol

on that note yuudias!!!!! I know boundless generosity and honesty and kindness and most significantly 'virtue' is like. the entire core of his character but bro!!!!!!!!!!!!

pls have more concern for ur own wellbeing,,,, pls,,,,,,,,,, cri

unrelated but it was interesting that the dudi ducasse aliens r actually considered velgearian too! like its something thats pretty obvious now that they've said it since like. they're literally from the velgear star cluster but still lol

the way yuuga always speaks so calmly and like he's detached from everything is so funny lol 'some problems' i mean. yeah

average sibling interaction

btw this was the face where I was like 'ohhhh' abt the lead animator bc this is The Luke Face (i just rly like how they do the lines around the sides of the eyes :3)

average sibling interaction part 2

random thought i wonder if yuuhi will still have darkness jointech tyrant after all this? or is it a card that only existed in the spacetime... did yuuhi even have a corresponding card in kuai's prime deck??? hm

look how pretty :] (too bad they fuckin. killed him LOL) (i am sad)

this is obviously nothing but.... the colours of the galaxy gem thing kinda match lol

this was cute :3 their relationship has changed so much recently that I'm still a little confused if they're meant to be like. friends or not at this point?? or if its like a 'we've been this close for this long that even if we air out our grievances and try to go our separate ways we're still in sync' kinda thing which is cute

and speaking of cute duos luge and zaion stood (i use the word stood very loosely) directly next to each other this time 🔥🔥🔥 zailugers stay winning

#nishawsweep (if velgear acts like a surname for velgearians is dudi actually a name adopted by everyone from the dudi ducasse system rather than a personal name? 🤔)

i know its been 3 eps of this now but aaa im not over how cute it is that everyone's so small compared to yuudias so they kinda look like little fairies :((((( so adorable.......... 💕💕💕

yuuga who tf r u........ who tf is the creator.......... who/what tf r the oudous........ where is everyone's parents actually

ok i have sadly hit the image limit so I will stop my ramble spam now.... grrrahhrahgrhghgarhahhrgghrgrghghgh i really really enjoyed this episode and this duel as a whole and especially kuaidul as a character!!!!!!!!!

but before I leave i just wanna say isn't zwijou's galaxy so pretty?? its like a reverse of the crab nebula... idk i just think orange and teal is one of the most colour combinations of all time :)

#grwatch

[merp-blerp]

Movies that Might Make Good Musicals in My Opinion & Why

So I made a list of musicals that might make good movie musicals before, so now I'll do vice versa. Just like most list I make, this will be long, detailed, and possibly edited later. Sorry, lol.

Dead Poets Society

So I've heard talk of this already existing or being in development, but I haven't seen anything, so this might just be more of a “what I hope for” thing. The movie was also already a stage show. This should have a John Patrick Shanley’s Prodigal Son type vibe, not just because Robert Sean Leonard is in that show too, but the sense of the script and feel of the show. I can see the music having a Spring Awakening sound to it. I think a musical would be a great way to improve upon the film in some areas, like Knox and Chris’s romance that bordered on creepy (and underdeveloped), and the Nuwanda stuff that was pretty insensitive to Native Americans. Also, maybe change how... white the film was, in terms of cast and extras. Brown v. Board had happened by 1959; there could've been students of color (maybe the casting reflected how rigid Welton Academy was, but that should be acknowledged, which it wasn't, if so). And please keep Neil and Todd’s queer subtext, or better yet, make the queerness explicit. And I don't know if he can sing or anything, but I'd die to see Ethan Hawke, or really any of the og poets play Keating. Ethan now just reminds me the most of Keating for some reason, and I think it’d be touching.

Wild Nights with Emily

Emily Dickinson’s poems are famous for being pretty musical, so a musical about her would be cool. Wild Nights with Emily is one of my favorite piece of media about Dickinson because it doesn't portray her as a boring shut-in who wrote boring poetry, a far cry from who she was. It was also the right amount of silly for me personally (I love Apple TV’s Dickinson, but the modern humor could be a bit much for me sometimes. But that's just a me thing, not an inherent flaw of the show. It's storyline is also a bit too long for a musical, it being a series). Turning Emily’s poems to songs would be easy (?) because of how she wrote them; they already fit songs like "House of the Rising Sun", "The Yellow Rose of Texas", etc. Dickinson’s “Split The Lark” song kills me every time (straight up cast Ella Hunt in this hypothetical show would be a cool idea). And I could see Mabel singing lines from Emily's poems and warping them as a villain song since she seemingly did that in real life.

The Sandlot

I love musicals staring a bunch of kids. I like feeling impressed and like they're more talented than me. The Sandlot would be fun. I could see it being performed in the round. I don't have many detailed thoughts about this one right now honestly. I just like the idea. And I love this movie.

Rocketman

This one feels like it was supposed to be on stage from the get-go. The movie, especially during the title number, felt like the world’s most detailed proshot. Not a flaw to me, but to some.

The Iron Giant

I'm glad this once underrated flick has gotten more attention over the years. Even though it's amazing, I always felt like there could be more to it. Like we could develop Dean and Annie's relationship beyond one or two-ish scenes of bonding and boom! Relationship. Or maybe cut out their romantic connection entirely, as it's not necessary. And include the deleted scene (that was included in the extended cut) of Dean seeing Giant’s dream projected on the his TV so that his views on Giant changing when he almost attacks Hogarth make a bit more sense. I think it wouldn't hurt for the story to be longer. I don't know how the technicalities of the show would work with Giant and how big he is. There's a King Kong musical, so maybe something like that, or of course scaling down Giant in the process but still making him big. It’d be an impressive puppet.

Secondhand Lions

This film should be a classic! If you haven't seen the it I recommend it. It has a similar-esque story to The Iron Giant, being about a boy making friends with a non human creature (a lion if you didn't guess). The film just deserves more attention. EDIT: So I recently rewatched this film and notice what might be the actor playing young Garth (who's white) with a painted face to look darker during one of Hub’s backstories. It might've just been the lighting on the scene, but it might not be. This would obviously be really bad, so some kind of musical remake could be an opportunity to fix this issue. Just a heads up that it might be there.

Pippi Longstocking

If you can't tell, kids' movies to me would be the easiest to turn into musicals. I grew up with the Swedish version of Pippi (English dubbed) thanks to my dad. I loved it, along with the American film, cartoon, and even the Shirley Temple Show version. It could work as a musical. The films and show already had their own different theme songs.

The Lorax

I know this might sound odd. Of all the films on this list, I want this one the most. The Illumination film, while fun, had a lot of flaws (no shame if you still liked it), such as marketing for the film contradicting its own message, the film being too safe, etc. But that's exactly why I think a stage show would work. It could improve on the film. Like having better characterization and being less gimmicky. I would also want it to be a bit more faithful to the book/TV short film in a few ways. If it's possible on stage, I liked the idea of obscuring The Once-Ler’s face to symbolize that he could be anyone, including the audience if they let themselves. Maybe even make Once-Ler a gender-ambiguous role to reflect that more. And the story ending with the child (Ted in the film, unnamed in the book/TV short) being given the tree seed and walking away from The Once-Ler’s home, reminding the audience that there is hope to save the trees, but it hasn't been done yet, as the trees are still in danger unless people care to help the trees. The film’s very happy ending arguably only serves as inspiration porn rather than actually teaching people to care about the trees. I could see “Let It Grow” staying in some way as a song sung by The Lorax and his animal friends in the beginning when Once-Ler first arrives at the forest, trying to convince him to not harm the trees. Maybe even obscure the child’s identity and gender to symbolize that they could be anyone as well. Make the Once-Ler’s rise to greed longer than just one song. You don't destroy the trees in a day. You don't become a monster in a day. It would hit better. And make Once-Ler’s destruction a conscious choice rather than blame his unawareness of the trees' deaths. Maybe even have him lie initially about his awareness of the trees to Thneedvile till he confesses to the kid that he did know, but didn't care so he could make money. Companies lie like that all the time. Imagine a scene immediately after his full transmission to evil (“How Bad Can I Be?” in the film) where he looks upon the treeless land and actually looks apathetic towards it and only cares when he realizes it will ruin his business since he can't find an alternative to tree fluff/leaves; he doesn't express true care till he talks about it to the child/Ted, as he's only realized his folly over the years. There are some things from the film that could be saved, like the memorial Lorax and the animals have for the UNLESS tree. That was the best addition the film made. And include the cut song “Biggering” rather than “How Bad Can I Be?”! That was a masterpiece and should've never been cut. Or better yet, have bits of “How bad can I be” performed at the beginning of Once-Ler’s poor decision-making, and have “Biggering” be this sort of final crescendo before his complete downfall. Like “How Bad Can I Be?” is a cut-up as a prologue(s). The demo version of “Thneedvile” also added to Ted/the kid more, so I think that would stay too. All the cut songs actually add a lot to the story and have great humor, but the film wanted to be marketable and as inoffensive as possible rather than good (and was made by one of the most money-hungry, Once-Ler-like film companies ever). I would want a slightly more dark approach to the massaging. Show more of the effects of the world losing trees rather than just talk about how bad it is. Show us why we should care. Maybe include an endangered animal in the story and have it go extinct thanks to The Once-Ler’s practices. Just something. The message could even be extended to not just care about the trees, but the natural world as a whole, as global warming and other issues like it are still as big of problems as ever.

Jennifer's Body

I think we need more horror musicals. We have Carrie The Musical, Starkid’s Hatchetfield Universe, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Jekyll and Hyde, etc. so a horror musical isn't as odd as it might sound at first. I liked the film, but there were some things that if feel could us an update. Like the dialogue being very cheesy and dated (nothing wrong if you like that, I get its appeal; it's just not my thing unless done in a particular way). Or Needy and Jen’s attraction to each other being treated more as sapphic fetishization to get guys to see the movie rather than it being there for representation (especially in the trailers for the film). I think it would be nice to see more pre-succubus Jennifer, and her friendship with Needy pre-succubus, so that it could be a bit more sad when she's changes and so that the change is felt more. It would also make it more sad when Needy has to kill her. I want more pain or hesitance from Needy having to fight and kill Jen. Even though she knows it's not Jennifer anymore it still can't be easy to deal with your best friend/crush dying twice. They were friends from childhood, it has to be a least a little painful. I guess I just want a bit more heart behind it than the film had (not that I thought the film didn't have any).

The Invisible Man

We have Jekyll and Hyde and Frankenstein musicals. Griffin might as well join his mad scientist bros. This would almost definitely have to be a musical movie because I have no idea how you would make Griffin look invisible on stage practically. I really like gothic musicals and I think this could have a similar vibe. Griffin’s more blatantly asshole-y behavior when compared to Jekyll and Frankenstein’s well-meaning but flawed natures could make him and the musical stand out against its other mad scientist processors.

#musicals #broadway #dead poets society #wild nights with emily #the sandlot #rocketman #the iron giant #secondhand lions #pippi longstocking #the lorax #jennifer's body #jennifer’s body #the invisible man #frankinstein #frankinstein musical #jekyll and hyde

[abluescarfonwaston]

Marshallworth but its fake dating. Miles is sick to death of going to Von Karma parties and having everyone and their grandmother tell him he really should be seeing someone already- a good woman really makes the man you know. Trying to set him up with themselves/their daughters/their granddaughters (or perhaps themselves dearie. You seem like the sort who knows the value of older... things)

He collapses into the breakroom table over it one monday. Complaining to the only person in the office who is friendly with him aside from Gumshoe- Neil Marshall. Neil jokingly suggests he could be Miles date to those parties and chase off his suitors. Miles, who just read every fake dating fic in the Magisteel community Shoots straight up and says Yes. We should.

They go to the first party. Miles is tense AF. Neil sticks next to him and is graceously introduced as “Miles Boyfriend” to everyone they meet. The women all size him up with murder in their eyes and for the first time in Neil’s life he wonders if his unbeatable streak will end in his untimely demise at one of their hands. No one is deterred.

Miles leaves the party FUMING mad. It didn’t work! Neil apologizes. Those gals really are crazy. Miles says ‘They saw through us! They knew it wasn’t real! We need to step it up!!!” Neil stares at him because he really doesn’t think that was the problem frankly.

Miles says he was too tense when Neil touched him so he demands to practice holding hands, causally touching, and then - in a moment that will live in Neils dreams forever - making out. Pushes Neil into the couch and kisses him breathless. They go out on dates to practice and build up alibis. Edgeworth brings him a lunch the day he forgets to pack one and is the ‘perfect’ partner.

They go to a wedding out of the city. When they get to their room its a single bed. Neil offers to see if they have any doubles left because clearly something got mixed up in the booking. Miles says he requested a single. Couldn’t have anyone thinking they slept in SEPARATE beds. Neil offers to get a cot or even just sleep on the floor. Miles won’t hear it. What if someone came in and saw? They’d think they were Fighting and that WILL NOT DO.

They sleep in the same bed. Neil is consumed by feelings and confusion. Is this real? Is this still the bit? Is hhis soft heart getting jerked around on a lead like Jake said? Then Miles cries out in his sleep. He doesn’t know why but he’s softly calling his name and tucking him close. Miles slips back under without waking and Neil wakes up almost on top of Miles like a blanket. He’s So self conscious the whole wedding and blushes every time Miles kisses him or asks him if he’s alright and gets him a water because ‘you look flush Neil.’ He flees into the bouquet toss crowd to steady his rapidly beating heart.

Catches it.

By the time he stumbles back to the table Miles is already asking the others on the proper procedure for engagements and where to buy rings. Neil baps him on the head with the flowers and gives a tight laugh. ‘lets not get ahead of ourselves there pardner���. (We’re still FAKE dating for all I know after all!) Miles studies him with something approaching confusion before nodding. Asks when their alone if he’s done something wrong. He has been trying his best to be the perfect partner.

“I don’t want the perfect partner! I just want You to be my partner! For real! Not this fake pretend where I don’t even know if this is anything more than a mental game for you on how to score the most ‘dating’ points!”

Miles is quiet for so long Neil nearly packs up to catch a bus home. “I don’t like hiking. Being affectionate at the office makes me nauseous and I have a worse time sleeping in the same bed because I constantly worry about disturbing you.” grabs his arm. Ducks his head. “And i thought if I was the perfect partner you would find no reason to leave me.”

“Oh. Oh pardner.”

Then they’re real dating. Things get softer and worse and messier and better all at the same time if not quite at once. And they were almost Very Very happy.

#marshallworth #neil marshal #neil Marshall my beloved #miles edgeworth #fake dating au #long post