#there’s the occasional freak and/or weirdo but that’s fine

[chronodia]

I don’t think I’ve said this before on here but I just wanted to thank everyone for sticking around and being so nice & supportive to me :) my following on here is much smaller than on twitter but it’s really cozy and I appreciate all of you

#I feel v blessed to not have to deal with rude haters like ever #there’s the occasional freak and/or weirdo but that’s fine #the block button is free

[fryingpan1234567]

canonically Jason and Tim have motorcycles, right? and B and Duke too but the other two are more well known I think

ANYWAYS what if everyone in the batfam had one tho? because. the potential.

Dick takes his off of roofs sometimes, but it’s built for it. before all his modifications, it was just a blue and black chrome Yamaha sports bike, nothing special. he added a Nightwing sticker on each side, a bunch of weapons (mostly electricity based), grappling hooks, Nightwing things. there’s even a sidecar for Haley.

Babs (before the wheelchair days) had a purple and yellow one that matched her suit perfectly. it sort of meant she couldn’t use it during the day, but occasionally she rode it to work with extensive concealing of the random dangerous gadgets. hers was also a Yamaha (same model ^^)

Jason canonically has a black shapeshifting one like some maccadams shit but it’s fine— it’s loud as shit, so he doesn’t really use it for patrol, but he loves it during the day. because it’s just black, it’s pretty easy to take it out for completely non-suspicious speeding law breaking joyrides. no harm done!

Cass has a jet black Ninja, and her reputation on the streets is about the same as the nightfury’s at the beginning of the first httyd. dark, deadly, and it’s even quiet in Gotham’s busy streets. watch your back for her.

Tim’s got the BATCYCLE it’s CANON. it’s also canon that it’s got a liquid-cooling engine and a Robin-themed paint job, but fuck that, I say it’s dark red and electric and he rides it to work. so sometimes (most of the time) he pulls up with ruffled clothes and helmet hair, which Conner nearly fainted at the first time he saw it, but we don’t talk about that. he doesn’t use it for patrol because Kon said he’d carry him everywhere if Tim gave him rides in exchange. on the bike. he has said on more than one occasion “wear the helmet, ride a biker” and Tim punches him really hard

Steph’s bike is purple, and the wheels do the hover-shift-glowy thing like in Mario Kart (also purple). she’s not scared of you or anyone; she will ride that shit to school and use it on patrol with the hovering and distracting color and everything. fight me.

in canon, Duke’s bike is electric with a bunch of lights and black and yellow and lowkey built like a tank. I kinda like it! I think it’s a fabulous bike for a fabulous man so therefore he gets to keep it I won’t be taking criticism

Damian gets a green and red and black electric Ninja, plus a helmet that he painted with feathers and paw prints n shit. Jon likes the spare, which is just black but has a red mohawk. what more could you want? he could fly everywhere, but he also could just have his badass motorcycle bf drive him everywhere while he wears his dope ass helmet and vibes to whatever 2000s pop shit Damian lets him play. he’s a professional backpack.

did you think I’d stop at the Batkids? sorry imma keep going

I like the idea of Brucie having a black sports bike that’s 90% modifications like in the movie. no one remembers what it was before he took it all apart and added Bat-stuff, but it looks great now! it’s blown up more times than you can count, just because it’s a really good target for rogues.

Kate has one that’s almost exactly the same, except hers is maybe a little closer to what it was originally. she doesn’t quite have all the same stuff Bruce does, but they’re the same vibe!

anyways that’s the vigilante weirdos club, so like it’s expected that they’d all have a dangerous vehicle. slightly less expected— Alfred freaking Pennyworth has a Harley with tall handles and sparkly black paint, but nobody knew that for such a long time because he barely leaves the manor. all the kids lost their minds when they found out. what can I say

anyways some Bat-bike shenanigans that have ensued:

street races between all the Batkids at least once a week, whether that be on patrol or in civvy clothes

Jason obnoxiously revving really loud whenever he sees one of them in the street, on a date, when he’s picking them up from something, just as often as possible. obnoxious revving. old people hate him

cool lesbian aunt Kate picking up kids from school with her badass bike and epic helmet

sometimes Dick will be talking about “his child” or “his baby” and no one’s sure if he’s talking about his dog or his bike

bike-related thirst traps on social media

“race you to the next light”

not a single one of them has left a Gotham speeding law intact even once (not even Alfred, although he won’t admit it)

Wally likes to get Dick to race him on his bike even though he knows he’s going to win

both Jon and Conner have said something along the lines of “I bet I could pick up the bike with you on it” as a show-off attempt, but Damian and Tim love their paint jobs too much to permit them to try

Batfam on bikes❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#there’s ships if you squint #lmao #dc #dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #blackbat #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #signal #damian wayne #robin #bruce wayne #batman #kate kane #batwoman #alfred pennyworth #batkids #if you squint: #birdflash #timkon #okay that one’s pretty obvious #damijon

[psithurista]

approach shift - epilogue

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x

series masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.

He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”

You groan. 

You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.

“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 

“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 

“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 

“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”

You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.

He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.

It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.

“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 

You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.

He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”

You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”

He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”

You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”

“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”

He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.

You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 

You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.

He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.

“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.


“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”

You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”

He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 

You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.

He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”

“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”

He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.

“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.

He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.

“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 

It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.

You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.

He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.

He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  

You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 

You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.

He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.

“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”

You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…

“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.

You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.

When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.

You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.

“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”

You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.

“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.

“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 

You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”

She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 

You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.

You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 

You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.

“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”

“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.

“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.

He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.

Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”

Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.

Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 

As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 

You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm smut #peter parker x you

[luminnara]

Opposites Attract | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Requests are open! | Commissions are open!

Summary: you’re super nerdy—you’re all about D&D, sci-fi, comics, and everything that people like Billy Hargrove and his new pals make fun of. In fact, they think it would be a great idea to bet on whether or not Billy can make you like him. Lucky for Billy, he’s already got a thing for you…but what if you don’t like him back?

You didn’t know how you ended up being stuck right in front of Billy Hargrove in not one, but two classes senior year, but you hated it.

He was always right there, gaze burning into the back of your skull, boots sometimes kicking the legs of your chair, fingers occasionally yanking on your hair or shirt if he decided he just had to have your attention. You would always turn towards him, looking totally annoyed, to see one of those infuriatingly handsome smirks on his infuriatingly handsome face and find out that he forgot a pencil again or something equally stupid.

When you were lucky, he left you alone after that. He’d manage to sit quietly and you would do everything in your power to ignore him, spending your time doodling in the margins of your notes or dreaming up new scenarios for your campaign. Sometimes, you even managed to forget that he was there.

When you were unlucky, though, Billy made himself a nuisance. He insisted that you acknowledge him every five minutes somehow, whether it be by kicking your chair, accidentally shoving you when he stretched, or leaning so far forward that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

Not only did it send a flurry of butterflies through your stomach every time he did it, but it also really, really pissed you off.

“I can’t believe him,” you growled one day as you clutched your books to your chest. “I mean, seriously, who does he think he is? He’s so annoying, and it’s not like he ever actually needs anything or has anything useful to say—Eddie, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, totally. Sounds shitty. Hey, did you decide on a class yet? I gotta get this campaign started this week or I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it, man.”

You rolled your eyes and slammed your locker shut. “Elf. Paladin.”

Eddie Munson, one of your only friends, gave you a grin. “And I’m sure you’ll blow us all away with your holy might, toots. Thanks. First session on Wednesday.”

His usual sweet, goofy expression brought a small smile to your face as you walked with him down the hall. “Good. I need a distraction.”

He slung an arm around your shoulders. “And a distraction you shall get, o fair maiden, in the form of the gnarliest, most fucked up—“

“Freak.” Someone grunted as their shoulder slammed into his, sending you both stumbling a few steps.

You shook it off and just kept your attention on Eddie. “More fucked up than the last one?”

“Oh, trust me, it’s gonna be brutal.”

“Better be.” You grinned. “I’m graduating this year. Gotta go out with a bang.”

Down the hall, Billy Hargrove was watching you with a thoughtful expression on his face. You and that weirdo Munson, huh? You looked close. He had his arm around you. You were always hanging around him and his little pack of freak nerds in the cafeteria. But seriously, that guy? You could do way better.

Namely, you could do Billy.

You just never seemed to pick up on his advances, and he was growing frustrated. How the hell was he supposed to get you talk to him if you never did? Was he supposed to use the direct approach, the one that worked on girls like Carol? Or were you way too nerdy for that?

“Hey. Hargrove.” Tommy H elbowed him. “How ‘bout her?”

Billy turned to snarl at him, but when he followed Tommy’s gaze, he saw that he was nodding towards you.

“What about her?” Billy asked.

“Bet you can’t get a date with the nerdiest bitch in town.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Billy scoffed. “I can get a date with anyone.”

“So you’re in?” Tommy grinned. “Get that super dork to crush on you by the end of the week, and I’ll get you a 12 pack.”

“...Alright. Fine.” Billy sneered. “It’s a bet.”

-----

Every so often, you got paid a decent amount of cash to “babysit” a group of kids who really didn’t need a sitter.

As far as you knew, at least. 

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will--that kid, who got kidnapped or whatever not too long ago? Yeah, that Will--El, and Max, Billy Hargrove’s younger sister. Stepsister. Whatever. 

Even when you were only hired to keep an eye on one or two of them, you usually ended up hanging out with the whole gang. You got the feeling that they knew that you knew that you didn’t need to be there, but it was easy money, and you’d been babysitting them since they actually needed it, so none of you really minded. And besides, you actually had a lot of the same interests, so all you ever had to do was order pizza and sit around while they argued about movies or told you about their campaign.

“You guys are so good at D&D,” you laughed, pulling your feet up as you sat on the couch.

“Well what about you?” Mike asked eagerly. “What are you playing right now?”

“We haven’t started, but Eddie swears it’ll be brutal.” You snorted. “Hey, don’t you guys start high school next year? Are you gonna join the club?”

“Of course,” Dustin scoffed. “I mean, what else would we do? Sports?”

They all laughed, though you noticed that Lucas’ was more nervous than the others.

“Well good, because even if Eddie somehow manages to graduate, they’re gonna need more players.” You turned your attention to Max and El. “How bout you guys?”

El gave a small shrug. “I’ve never really…played.”

“I’m sure the boys would be glad to teach you,” you said, reaching for a slice of pizza.

She smiled. “I might like that.”

“Yeah. Yeah! We can totally do that!” Mike said enthusiastically. “We just need to write your character—“

Your eyes shifted to Max as she sat there, looking somewhat cross. “What do you think?”

“Look, no offense, but the nerd shit really isn’t my thing.” She said, as nicely as she could manage.

You noticed that her leg was bouncing, something she only did when she was anxious or upset, and you frowned slightly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” She snapped. “I mean…yeah. I’m fine.”

“Max…” Dustin groaned.

“What?”

“You did get permission to come over here, right?”

She was quiet for a moment, and you knew that the answer was going to be no.

“Max, are you serious?” Dustin complained. “Is that psycho freak gonna come looking for you?”

“Are you talking about Billy?” You asked.

“Duh! He’s a total dick, and I swear, if I ever have to see him again I’ll—“

The doorbell rang.

It was way too much of a coincidence for you to not believe you were about to see an angry Billy Hargrove ripping the door off its hinges, but as everyone froze and the seconds ticked by, there was nothing. Just a tense silence, broken only by the ringing again.

“Oh man,” you groaned as you stood. “Anybody else wanna be the babysitter for a change and take responsibility? …no? Great…”

You steeled yourself, reaching for the knob and twisting it slowly…and there he was, just as expected, only he was leaning in the doorframe, looking pissed off but not as angry as you’d been bracing for. He exhaled a puff of smoke in your face before giving you a curious look, and you could practically see the wheels turning before he spoke.

“Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart.”

“Well, here I am.” You cleared your throat. “Can I help you with something?”

He looked past you, eyes shifting towards the kids. You saw anger there, a bright spark of rage flashing across his entire face as he spotted Max. She looked back at him stubbornly, setting her jaw and daring him to say anything, and you got the feeling that this was a normal thing for them. 

“Maxine.” he bit out, voice dangerous and low, “been lookin’ all over for you.”

“Piss off, Billy.” she spat.

He was holding himself back, and it was taking so much effort that he though you should be proud of him, because he was doing it for you. You, who was standing in his way, ever the dutiful babysitter, keeping the lion in its cage even though you had no idea what you were doing. But god, he wished that you did. He wished you knew how much he wanted to be good for you. 

He forced a tight smile onto his face. “Come on. Su--your mom is worried.”

The tone in his voice was serious enough, earnest enough, that Max recognized the urgency in it. She didn’t like Billy, not really, but she knew how rough his dad was with him, and even though he was her shitty stupid stepbrother, the thought of him on the receiving end of Neil Hargrove’s wrath wasn’t a pleasant one. 

“...Right. Yeah.” she cleared her throat, glancing around for her sweater. “I’ll, uh...be right out.”

The others looked at her in confusion and you raised a brow. When you looked back at Billy, you saw that he seemed thoughtful, pensive, almost, but by the time his eyes snapped back to yours, his expression had returned to that devil may care aloofness that he was so good at. 

“Didn’t know you babysat, sweetheart,” he said, relaxing his posture slightly. 

“Oh, yeah...” you smiled sheepishly. “I mean, these guys don’t really need it anymore, but I don’t mind the extra cash. I’m sorry if Max wasn’t supposed to be out, I just sort of assumed she had permission since the party is always together--”

At the word party, he snorted, and you were reminded that Billy Hargrove was, in fact, an asshole and not at all your type of person.

“Nah, Max loves to run off. It’s no big deal.” he said with that gorgeous smile of his, even though he was absolutely downplaying how extremely pissed and stressed he was thanks to his sister. “Besides...she’s in good hands here, I can tell.”

You blinked. Was that...a compliment? Was he capable of those? What the hell? 

“Well…thanks,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Anytime,” he winked.

And even though it was a weird exchange, a big part of you hoped that you could talk to him again, about more than just “I’m not giving you another pencil” or “quit kicking me.” You were hoping for a real conversation, because you were hoping that there was more to Billy Hargrove than pretty eyes and a bad attitude…

And the next day, your wish came true.

And the day after that.

You suddenly found Billy lingering around every corner, greeting you with that gorgeous smile and asking how you were as if he genuinely wanted to know.

And you told him.

And he listened.

Billy hung on to every word you said like they were his lifeline, paying extra close attention whenever you said you liked something. He noticed everything, more than anybody else would, because he was good at watching people and good at taking in his surroundings, and with you right in front of him, he had plenty to focus on and memorize.

And he felt himself falling with every new “thanks, Billy” that you gave him.

“I mean it, baby.” He said, every time. Because he did.

And goddamnit, you were really, really starting to like him. He was holding doors for you, he was carrying your books, he was telling you how much he liked your outfits…and it was working, all of it, and by the end of the week, you were sighing and wishing that he would ask you out for real.

And then Tommy H came and fucked it all up.

“Damn, Hargrove, you did it!” He cheered on that Friday, approaching the two of you as you stood at your open locker.

Billy gave him a sharp glare. He was finally making progress with you, and the past week had been like heaven on earth for him…and here was this chucklefuck, coming to screw him over because of some stupid bet.

“Guess i owe you that beer, huh?” Tommy grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

Billy wanted to break his arm.

“I’ll be honest, I really didn’t think you could pull it off. I mean—“ and Tommy turned to look at you, lip curled in a nasty sneer that you knew all too well. “—this one’s like, the prudest prude in town.”

“Excuse me?” You asked haughtily.

He leaned towards you. “But you’re just like every other girl, huh? Creamin’ your pants over Hargrove.”

Your nostrils flared angrily and your face felt like it was absolutely on fire as you turned your gaze from Tommy to Billy. “Are you saying this was a fucking joke? A bet?”

Billy immediately straightened up, and for once, he was struggling with what to say. “I—no, look, it wasn’t—“

“Fuck you, Billy Hargrove.” You could feel tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, but you weren’t about to stand there and cry in front of them. No fucking way.

So you slammed your locker and spun on your heel, marching away with your head down. You didn’t know where you were going, but you needed to run, get away from them, get away from the guy you knew you shouldn’t have started to trust.

Tommy let out a loud laugh as he watched you go. “Aw, I think she’s crying over you! That’s so fucking patheti—“

Billy interrupted him with a fist to the jaw.

“You fucking idiot!” He snarled, grabbing the front of Tommy’s shirt and slamming him against the lockers. “The hell’s your problem?”

Tommy looked confused, eyes wide as he tried to process what had just happened to him. “Yo, what the hell, man?”

“You ever make her cry again, and I’ll make you cry twice as hard.” Billy growled. “Is that fucking clear?”

Tommy nodded quickly, and as much as Billy wanted to stay there and beat him to a pulp, he knew he needed to find you. Because he needed to fix this before you never spoke to him again, even if that’s what he deserved.

He found you outside, sitting alone at a picnic table. Your forehead was resting on the top, your elbows on either side of your face as your hands covered your hair. You looked smaller than usual, all curled in on yourself, and Billy wanted to punch himself in the jaw for dragging you into this and ruining everything.

He approached you, clearing his throat when he was a few steps away. “Hey.”

“Go away, Billy.” Your voice was muffled.

“I wanna talk.”

“I said go away,” you said, louder this time, though your voice was heavy from your crying.

Billy shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. “Tommy’s a fucking idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that he does.” You said.

“No. He doesn’t.”

You sighed loudly, picking your head up to look at him. “I know how this works. I’m the weird nerdy girl, and you’re the hot bad boy jock, and your shitty jock friends probably bet on whether or not you could get between my legs this weekend.”

“First of all, I’m not a jock.” He growled. “Second of all…Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look. It was a bet, but I only took it because I wanted to…get to know you.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that that was enough, that you would believe him and he could take you out for burgers or something and you could both just move on. When you finally opened your mouth, he straightened up slightly, standing at attention for whatever you had to say as if it would help his chances.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” You asked.

“…what?” He barked.

“You heard me.” Your lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line as you looked up at him. “How am I supposed to believe that anything you’ve said this week was genuine? God, I feel so stupid…just leave me alone. It’s not like you care anyways.”

“Hey.” He growled. “Don’t you fucking say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I don’t care.” His eyes were dark, his teeth bared like an angry dog. “I do care.”

“…prove it.”

He rolled his eyes and you expression only hardened.

“Prove it, Billy. Otherwise I’m gone.”

“Fine.” He hissed. “I’ve been listening to you talk all fucking week.”

“Is that seriously supposed to make me feel better?” You scoffed. “You just can’t stop insulting me today, can you?”

“No, babe, I’ve been fucking listening to you.” He repeated. “Your favorite color is moss green. Not pine, not forest, moss. You like vanilla shakes and you love dipping your fries in them. You’ve got a cat named Peter and a dog named Lucy and you want a lizard but your folks keep saying no.”

As he spoke, your eyes widened. Had he…had he really been paying attention, like you had so naively hoped?

“When you were six, you fell and scraped your knee and you’ve still got the scar. You like DnD, Audrey Hepburn, and Fangoria. You can’t fucking swim, and you took ballet until you were nine.” He sighed. “That good enough for you?”

You were speechless.

“I…uh…wow,” you stammered, your anger fading away.

“I told you. Tommy is an idiot.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them at his sides, fingers clenching into fists and then relaxing again over and over as he fidgeted. “I only took his bet because I wanted to win. And because I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“You could have just talked to me like a normal person,” you said dryly.

“You’re always with Munson.”

“Well, yeah. He’s like, my best friend, so…”

“Is that it?” He asked hopefully.

“What?”

“You’re not dating that guy, right?”

The look on his face was almost endearing. “I’m not dating him.”

He visibly relaxed, fists unfurling as his shoulders dropped slightly. “Good.”

“You…really remembered a lot,” you said, chewing at your lip. “So…I guess maybe I owe you an apology for some of what I said just now. But Tommy is still—“

“Still a dick. Yeah.” He held up a hand for you to see, his knuckles red and angry. “Already took care of him.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken slightly. “Huh?”

“Soon as you left, I socked him.” He said, sounding incredibly serious. “He comes out here before I’m cooled off, something’s getting dislocated.”

“How…chivalrous.” A smile tugged at the edges of your lips. “My knight in shining armor.”

“Don’t drag me into your weird fantasy shit.”

“I think you’d be great at Dungeons and Dragons!” You argued.

He chuckled as he stepped closer, asking for permission to sit with his eyes. You scooted over a bit and he took that as an okay, sitting with his back to the table, legs spread obnoxiously to take up extra space as he leaned back on his elbows.

“You’re…nicer than I expected,” you said as you looked at him. “This whole week, you have been.”

“Yeah, well. People have layers.” He said absentmindedly, fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. “Babe, you got a smoke? …nah, you’re too goody two-shoes for that…”

You laughed lightly as you watched him and he froze, glancing up at you with those bright, wide eyes of his. He loved the sound of your laughter.

He wanted to hear more of it.

Giving up on the cigarette hunt for the time buying, he instead turned his full attention on you and cleared his throat. “Look, this whole thing was shitty. Lemme take you out to the diner later ‘n make it up to you. Deal?”

“…all right.” You smiled, even though your eyes were still puffy from crying and you were tired behind belief. “Deal.”

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #Billy Hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things

[foone]

My current problem with mastodon is that it's full of nerds. Well, let me rephrase that, because everywhere is full of nerds: it's full of the most annoying kind of nerds. I'll explain under the readmore, because it got long.

Every time I've posted something on mastodon, I've gotten a bunch of replies that seem to be trying to explain things to me. And it's not like I'm posting "hey how do I install Ubuntu on a Samsung tablet?", I'm mainly going "here's some electronics I'm tearing down" or "I'm hacking this game and wow it does the font in a weird way!"

Neither of these is really an invitation to explain at me. And sure, when I did this on Twitter, I'd get these occasionally. There's always one person who thinks they know more than you and is like "I have to explain at this person!"

But on mastodon it's CONSTANT. I post a quick note about how someday I want to find ask the game developers why they encoded the font like this, and in like 12 hours I've gotten like 14 replies all trying to fontsplain at me.

And it would only be half as annoying if they were right! Cause that's the thing, too: THEY'RE NOT. Tons of people are assuming I am hacking a Pokémon game because I mentioned Game Freak, but nope! It's Drill Dozer. And others are explaining how the GameBoy hardware works when this is a GBA game... Jesus.

It's just... Some weird social thing. Maybe because mastodon co-existed with Twitter for so long as the open source Libre-Twitter, it attracted the kind of nerds who only use open source software, and they built networks of similar people. The kind of people that think they are and have to be the smartest guy in the room. And even now with a massive migration from Twitter to Mastodon, their early-adoption of this platform is influencing the culture of it. Maybe mastodon is just the kind of place where you explain tech at people.

Or maybe it's a cultural thing where it's more like 4chan's anonymous culture, where you don't assume or know things about people. There are no reputations, just interchangeable anonymous/pseudoanonymous people. Reddit often has that sort of thing going too, where if you are a Known Person, it's never a good thing. (just ask The Cylinder Guy).

Or maybe... It's just me. I wasn't the most well known weirdo on Twitter but I had a good number of followers. Maybe on Twitter it was more likely that people knew that I was "Foone, hacker of fonts and tearer downer of electronics!", but on mastodon I'm getting a lot of followers that haven't gotten to know me yet, and... Just assume I blundered into hacking a GBA game without knowing anything about how the GBA hardware and font encodings work?

Cause like, I've got about 20k followers on mastodon and I kinda assume those are just a subset of my Twitter followers who migrated over but maybe I have a bunch of new followers who were mastodon-only until now, and they're like "oh I've heard of that foone punk. Nothing specific but supposedly they're a big deal on Twitter, so now that they've joined mastodon I should follow them!"

Or maybe it is mostly a subset but only the most annoying explainy 20k of Twitter followers followed me over to mastodon? I don't know.

And it's the kind of thing where this happening occasionally would be fine. You get used to annoying replies when you have enough followers, no matter what social network you're on.

And God forbid you have something go viral! Fun fact: even if only one person in a thousand is a massive dick, if you have a post get seen by a million people, that's a lot of dicks.

I don't want to sound like "foone complains because they/their shit is popular", that's not really the problem. I've got a bunch of followers on here as well, but ya'll aren't coming into every post I make and trying to explain them at me.

Which is honestly odder? I would have thought it would be the other way around. Like, all my mastodon posts are like "I am hacking this video game: I am a reverse engineer" or "I am taking apart this electronic device: I'm a reverse engineer" or "I'm building this electronic device/software: I'm a forward engineer". So you'd think people would assume Mastodon!foone is the kind of person who Knows Things, as they're clearly highly technical in what they're doing.

But over here on Tumblr, while I may mention those kinds of things from time to time, I'm mostly doing shitposts, writing, fandom stuff, making jokes, being queer. You'd think it'd be much easier to assume Tumblr!foone doesn't know a huge amount about technical subjects and is therefore a great target for explaining at.

But it is a cultural thing, I guess. Mastodon is full of people who assume you don't really understand what you're talking about, and will explain at you. And Tumblr isn't.

Well, at least for technical stuff. You will get plenty of argumentative replies and reblogs, but less on a post about how GBA games encoding Latin text, and more on things like fandom and politics and queer identities. Although even then I would argue they're doing it on a different way, most of the time: they're not assuming you don't understand and explaining at you, they're more going "(I assume you understand), but I disagree" or "I explicitly think you don't understand: here is where you are wrong", vs the mastodon reply of "I'm assuming you don't understand, so let me explain at you what you're talking about".

I dunno. I don't really have a good solution here and this isn't going to be the reason I leave mastodon or anything, but it's odd, and annoying.

I'm not posting on mastodon as much as I posted on Twitter, and while part of that is that I split my online presence between Tumblr and mastodon instead of keeping it all mixed together on my Twitter, a big chunk of it is that mastodon is simply not as fun to post on as Twitter was, even accounting for my smaller follower count.

Because I'm not just getting a proportionally smaller number of interactions (which makes sense given how I have fewer mastodon followers than I had Twitter followers), I'm getting a larger proportion of really annoying interactions.

And I think what annoys me most is the assumption that I don't know what I'm talking about. Like, tearing stuff down and hacking games for their fonts? I am a professional! This is my job (mainly because I'm unemployed at the moment and my Patreon is my only source of cash), and it's not one I picked up recently. I have been hacking the fonts out of games for FIVE YEARS and as for tearing down electronics? I've been documenting that shit on Twitter/mastodon/etc for like eight years but I've been doing it since i was old enough to hold a screwdriver.

And yes, sure, explain things to me if I don't understand: those things will be clearly signposted. I'll be like "I'm not sure what this chip is, these silkscreens don't match anything on Google" and it's always useful if someone can pop in and go "oh that's a SMX8363 Network Biciever!" because they have some knowledge I don't, and I made it clear I don't know what it is.

But it's a whole different thing for me to post a picture of a PCB and day "okay here's the inside of the case", because I'm about to follow it up with closeups and details, and 5 people reply "chip U1 is a SMX8363, that transformates the network bananadines" because HEY I'M ABOUT TO POST THAT.

or worse, I already have, you just didn't scroll down enough to see it.

Anyway the reason I'm ranting about this here in Tumblr is because I'm not exactly trying to call these people out and get them to change their ways. At least one of the people on the most recent post is someone I've known for years and respect, and she has a lot of Pokémon knowledge, and was applying her specific technical background to help explain it. She's cool... But she just happened to reply along with a mob of random people I don't know, and she applied her highly specific Pokémon Knowledge onto a post that was never about Pokémon.

I'm just saying this here, because I'm musing about the differences I've experienced in different social networks. I can't really tell if it's about the networks themselves or just my particular bubble of followers and followed peoples. It could be either. Especially since Tumblr has some hugely different sub-communities (which is why Blaze can be so hilariously odd: it doesn't pay attention to those communities, and just randomly hits people across the site), and mastodon isn't even a single social network, it's a metanetwork of social networks which many (intentionally) broken links between subsets. (I had to move servers a few times because the first couple I picked had problems, like getting shut down, blocked by most of the western world, or getting put on a "probably bad to interact with" greylist)

I dunno. I'm slowly starting to lean towards posting more technical stuff here instead of mastodon, simply because I can post a neat old TV here and only get replies that are positive, whereas the same sort of thing on mastodon would get many more replies but most of them are trying to explain a TV at me.

Look, all I'm asking is that people don't assume my wonder at the complexities and weirdness of the world as ignorance and a request for education.

Because that's a big part of my social media persona! I don't know how "fake" it is (I'm autistic. I've been wearing masks so long I'm not sure there's anything under them), but it's a good way to interact with the world in my experience: the world is full of hidden wonders and it makes me happy to share them, and apparently people like learning about them when I'm talking about them in that way. It's like I'm putting on a Bill Nye mask so I can be amazed at everything, to some degree. It keeps me from getting bored and taking things for granted, it lets me discover hidden beauty, and people seem to enjoy that kind of attitude, especially on social networks increasingly full of negativity. I can be excited about this weird old computer, and hopefully I can talk about it in such a way that helps you share in some of that excited, and the world is a little brighter.

And it's just disheartening when you try to share in your excitement about the weird and the complex and unusual and get people going "um actually this is just a common design for systems that use the 430TX chipset, as it's a budget model that didn't implement AGP fully and instead used a PCI bridge chip to implement..." and it's like LET ME HAVE FUN AND SHARE THAT FUN EVEN IF YOU CAN'T.

It's not even that I'm getting less "wow that's cool!" replies, it's that I'm getting mostly "that's just some boring thing that makes sense if you've done five years of electrical engineering like I have" and I'm so tired of that kind of attitude. It just goes double when they're wrong and assumed something was boring because they understand it and I don't, when in reality I do understand it, and they missed the interesting bit because they came into the conversation already looking to rain on my parade and/or educate the fool that they assumed I was.

And don't get me wrong: I am very a fool. But I'm not every kind of fool. I know some things. And I'm not a fan of getting explained at as if I don't understand those things.

Terrible thought, that's probably not true: I got most of my Twitter followers before I was out as trans. I've been trans on mastodon since day one. Are these fuckers assuming I'm a woman and mansplaining at me? Like, they're not transphobic, they respect my identity (even if they have it wrong), but they're still sexist and by assuming I'm a woman, they also assume I don't know what I'm talking about?

God. I hope not.

Anyway. Tumblr and mastodon, won't you?

#I'm still not going back to Twitter #Maybe if Elon fucks off #But probably not even then. The time had passed

[lust444men]

falling for you.

Warnings: Fluff, bullying, Eddie x shy!reader.

requested by: @laurenandloki

ʚ♡⃛ɞ

You were typically known as the "outcast" or "weird kid" and occasionally, "freak." in every school you went to. you didn't try to be, people just made that assumption about you and stuck with it. This school was no different, you had transferred recently, across country. Your mother works alot and has to travel and its been like that your entire like, juust as you're about to maybe start to fit in, make new friends, possibly even like the school, boom phone call from your mother saying she's moving again. You've learnt to not even unpack that much anymore because it won't be long until you're off to somewhere else again. Gotten pretty used to it, not much you can do about it other than suck it up and move on. You attempted home-school but with your mother part time working at home, constantly having meetings there and such, it was like you weren't allowed to breathe in your own home.

You continued thinking till you were snatched from your thoughts, by bumping into someone. Great. Your books fell to the floor as do you, straight on your ass. People around you saw and burst out laughing. "Haha!!! the freak bumped into freak number two!" Jason yells, getting a few squeaky laughs from the cheerleaders. Your eyes fill with tears and before eddie can say anything you run away.

Eddie looks at all the books on the floor and picks them up, putting them all back into the order he saw them in. or at least close to it. "Aww..look at that..weirdos husband is picking up her things." Jason says, touching his heart and wiping a fake tear. what an ass.

Eddie follows to where he saw you run off and knocks on the door. "Uh, y/n? you left your books. I picked them up for you" He says, in a soothing tone. "Thanks. leave them by the door." You say. "Not gonna happen, sweetheart. Can I come in?" He says, letting out a soft laugh. Sweetheart? I'm sure it's nothing. "Uh..uhm yeah okay" You mumble, unlocking the door. He hears it click and opens the door, closing it behind him before giving you back your books. "thank you. sorry about bumping into you. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you or anything right?" you ask, nervousness lacing your voice. He let's out a loud laugh before placing an hand on your arm. "Sweetheart, you're short and dainty. I'm not even sure you could pop a balloon if you jumped on it." He says, clearly very proud of that remark. Your jaw opens and you gasp, placing a hand on your chest taking offence. "Eddie! I am not. I could pop a balloon, and I could most definitely hurt you if I tried." You say, pushing his shoulder. he barely moves.

Oh. He wasn't kidding. "Go on then, sweetheart. Best hit to my arm right now." He says, turning to his side. "Fine! but if you have to go to the nurses office, I was not the reason." You say, stepping back a little and placing your books on the floor. "Okay, I'll say a fly flew into my arm." He says, giving you a cocky smirk. You gasp, and hit his arm. "Oh!" He says, grabbing his arm, falling into the door. "Man down." He says, sliding down the door.  "You're mean, munson." You say with a smile, rolling your eyes. He stands up to his full height again, putting his hands on your shoulders. "You okay now , sweetheart?" He asks, "Yes I'm okay, thank you. I've got to get to science now so um." You say, picking your books up.

"That's my next class too, I'll walk you there." He says, opening the door gesturing you to go first. Here's the thing, he didn't have science next. Actually he didn't have it at all today. He just wanted to spend time with you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Thank you so much for requesting this angel.

Sorry it took so long to get to♡

have a good day my little loves <3

#pls dont bully me #vol 2 stranger things #lucas stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie and dustin #eddie x reader #eleven #jim hopper #jane hopper #joyce x hopper #hopper x you #eleven hopper #lucas sinclair #lucas x max #dustin henderson

[andrew-and-leyley]

scenario where when they were in highschool, ashley is invited to some popular boy's party as his date. andrew is pointedly not invited- he's kind of a loser, and the guy's ex left him because she was crushing on andrew.

ashley goes, despite andrew's protests.

party things ensue, and it all leads up to 7 minutes in heaven. ashley and mr popular go into the closet; she's a little excited, but really she's thinking about how she can't wait to tell andrew about the naughty shit she's about to get up to. she doesn't really care about mr popular at all- he's cute, in an andrew sort of way, she notes- and this is the first time she's ever really been asked out. she's the weird kid at school, it's always her and andy sitting by themselves at lunch, and... well, she doesn't really need anyone else, does she? andy can accept her for who she is, and if he doesn't, she can make him.

mr popular, though? she has nothing on him. she's barely ever glanced his way. the only positive thing she can attribute to him is that he's never outright bullied her or singled her out or whatever. and, weirdly, in his presence, the other kids who have done all of that shit, are quiet and even... nice?

of all the people at the party to be stuck in a closet with, he's the best one, she supposes.

maybe they start making out- he takes the lead. at first. she's not one to give up control so easily, and she can certainly make this a memorable time for him. in heated whisper, she offers to suck his dick. in the dark, she can see his surprise, but then his hands are fumbling over the zipper and button and- well, it's a little disappointing, if she's being honest.

she's seen a lot of dick in her life (that's what happens when you share a room with your brother), and it's.... well, it's fine. it's just not... his.

but it's whatever. she shrugs and gets down to her knees, and gives as good a blowjob as she can. only to jump away at the sudden light and the sound of riotous laughter from their classmates. mr popular is smirking- he's no longer cute, and the andrew charm is gone from him- and standing over her, his dick still out.

she's humiliated. her classmates are calling her a freak and a slut, mr popular is telling everyone how easy she is and how she begged him to suck his dick. weirdo, whore, and even an occasional bitch light her up from head to toe.

she leaves without saying anything, walking home in the dark on her own.

she's halfway there when she slows down, remembering that she was supposed to call andy to pick her up when she left. she'd promised him that. but it's only been... what? an hour tops?

humiliate her in front of her peers all you want- she won't be humiliated in front of andy. it takes her a few more minutes of walking to realize something else:

there's a car following her.

there's a very brief moment of panic (not even for her own safety, but if she gets kidnapped or some crazy shit, andy might never forgive her. worse, she might never see him again) before she realizes it's her mom's old, beat-up car.

looking through the windshield reveals andrew in all his "protective big brother" glory, and she stares him down as he drives up next to her. when the window rolls down, he greets her with a raised brow

he doesn't have to say anything; she pouts and walks around to the passenger side, sliding in. they sit there in silence for a minute before he reaches over her and buckles her in.

he'll ask her what happened to calling him, and she'll lie- say she forgot- in that way that andrew will know the truth regardless. he'll ask what went on at the party, and she'll be quiet.

part of her wants to tell him what she did- she knows she'll tell him eventually, anyways. they have no secrets from each other. but she's still embarrassed by the whole situation... still, even if andrew's ashamed of her, or reprimands her, it's better than not having his attention on her at all.

she'll cough up the truth, play it off as something funny and fucked up all at once, like she's always doing. andrew's hands will tense on the steering wheel, before one reaches out to hold onto her hand. he's pissed off, and she can tell, so she'll try to lighten the mood even more by saying how unimpressive mr popular's dick was compared to his.

andrew immediately pulls his hand away from her, and in a mix of flustered and angry, he curses at her, telling her to stop saying shit like that. it's a perfect distraction, his response. she knows exactly how to pull the reactions she wants from him, and given he knows about what happened, he probably feels bad enough for her to give in to whatever she wants. some sort of brotherly obligation.

she bothers him in the car the whole drive home, messing around and being stupid (she takes her buckle off a couple of times, andrew stopping the car to rebuckle her until he gives up. "die, then," he tells her, and she laughs. putting her feet up on the dashboard prompts another pull-over, where andrew is forced to get a little handsy in order to push her feet back down to the floor. etc etc)

the party's almost forgotten completely by the time they arrive, and it's only seeing her parents still awake that brings her back down from the high of the car ride. it forces her to remember that she wasn't gone long at all, and her mood sours again as she slides past her mother (not even a "welcome back" or a "how was the party" or a "you're back early") and her father (he spares her a glance and that's about it), back to her and andy's room

she's scowling and pouting in her bed as andrew comes in, turning the lights off. he climbs into his own bed, for all of a few minutes before he gets tired of her quietness.

"you okay?" he asks. she shrugs in the dark, and knows he can see it; she can feel his gaze on her. "want to..." he lifts his blanket up- an open invitation to share beds for the night.

he always kicks up a fuss when they share beds, now, and their mother definitely doesn't approve of it. (they're too old to do that now, or some other bullshit). but tonight he's offering, and it doesn't have to do with one of his nightmares or his insomnia, and it's... for her.

she leaves her bed behind quickly and practically pounces on him, preferring this over the party- even before it turned south. because tonight, andy is all hers. he wants her there. for now, at least.

#ashley #andrew #gravecest #andrew graves #ashley graves #fic #it's. not really a fic. it's more of an idea but. idk. im just gonna post it im not gonna think about it too hard LMAO #but ofc i would accept characterization criticism #im trying to get into their headspaces a little more ill get better as time goes on :) #mostly with this i wanted to dance around andrew's jealousy and the idea that ashley is indifferent to pretty much everyone other than andy #i imagine she's a freshman or sophomore in this scenario #maybe a frsshman and the popular kid's a senior while andy is a junior #ANYWAYS ill shut up now bye #my fic #< for the sake of being able to find my own stuff later

[17magpiesinatrenchcoat]

pinned post

hey!! I’m lori. I use she /her pronouns, and I am autistic and anxious, so I’m not the best at being social hrhhshsh

cult of the lamb/hollow knight/slay the princess/the magnus archives enjoyer 🫶🫶

my favourite characters are pale king and lurien (hk) narinder and leshy (cotl) and madeline (celeste) 🫶🫶

tumblr freaks me out a bit, so I mostly just dump my art here and lurk on my favourite artists’ blogs, I am much more active on my instagram of the same username

DNI: any sort of bigot, proshippers(personal comfort reasons, I refuse to be involved in any discourse please do not ever involve me in it), weirdos in general, vivziepop fans, AI “artists”, anyone under 13 (what are you doing on here!!!!)

I am socially anxious, so I will take a while to respond to dms and stuff, and tumblr is pretty much the worst place to talk to me anyways LOL

I use mobile exclusively so if anything is formatted weirdly, that’s why

my art contains bright colours and may be eyestrainy if you’re sensitive to that stuff, or very occasional body horror/mild gore, please be aware

my art is tagged with #my art , my hollow knight au stuff is tagged with #hk bleak sunrise au, reblogs are tagged with #strawberreblog , random ass text posts are tagged with #shut up lori

PLEASE SEND ME ASKS!! I love asks!!

I am aroace sapphic (aka I think girls are pretty but I don’t want to do anything about it lmao) and bc I am aroace anything suggestive/nsfw makes me uncomfortable, so please be mindful of that. I do have the tags blocked, so it’s probably fine but don’t try to talk to me about anything like that please

I DO NOT ALLOW REPOSTS, EVER. If you see any of my art NOT on here or Instagram with the 17magpiesinatrenchcoat username, please tell me. If you want to use one of my artworks as an icon or whatever, ASK. And I will only allow it for fanart, not any of my OCs/original designs.

I think that’s it!! I will update this as I go if I want to add any more.

#pinned #use these for navigation: #my art #hk bleak sunrise au #strawberreblog #shut up lori

[ase-trollplays]

Be the weirdo limeblood

(placeholder image)

(Abridged bio)

Your name is Brandy Voleon, and you take offense to being called a weirdo! You're not any weirder than anyone else on Baby Murder Hell Planet, thank you very much. If anything, you're more normal than the majority of the population. Anyways, you're eleven sweeps old, and you live in a place called The Villa. You think it's a fine place to live, but all of your online friends you've told about it have described it as "if red flags were a city." Yeah, it's got its eccentricities like the normalized cannibalism and the REALTORs and the fact that no one can find this place unless they're hatched there or led there, but it's fine. There's probably weirder, more dangerous places out there.

You've lived in The Villa for essentially your whole life, but you're technically an outsider. After being orphaned at only one sweep old, you were brought there by a jade named Japhyr, and he raised you all the way until you were nine sweeps old when he was killed in a freak accident. He was a little odd and occasionally would lose himself to horrorterror influence and become unhinged and violent (One such episode leading to that big scar on your face, but it's fine), but you loved him all the same. He only ever had your best interests at heart. You still miss him.

Anyways, this is supposed to be about you! You like to think of yourself as a pretty chill guy. It takes a lot to rattle you or even make you uneasy. Living where you do, you're pretty desensitized to horror. You're also pretty passive and the type to react to things happening rather than making things happen. You can also be a little bit of a people pleaser and really clingy when you get attached to someone since Japhyr kept you pretty isolated. Most of your friends are online, but when you manage to make one in real life you give it your all.

However, just because you're a passive people pleaser doesn't mean you'll tolerate abuse of any kind. You've killed more than a few trolls who took you for an easy mark or even so much as threatened harm on your friends, and you'd do it again and again and again with no regrets every single time. As they say, "Violence isn't the answer. Violence is the question, and the answer is yes."

As a limeblood, you have emotion-based psionics. However, instead of the pacifying abilities your caste is associated with, your powers are (in your opinion) significantly less useful. By focusing on a specific person, you can feel their emotions. Not in an empathetic way, but in a quite literal way. As in, their emotions are physically felt by you. Tangibly. Anger feels like being covered in hot needles. Fear feels like static electricity. Tiredness makes your body feel heavier. Happiness makes you feel warmer. Malice feels like you're being suffocated. You get the idea. It's real neat and all, but you feel like you lost the psionic lottery.

For work, you make a living doing data entry and inventory detail for a big company. It's dull and tedious, but it keeps the bills paid, and you like all of your coworkers. However, when you need extra money or a break from the monotony of office work, you take part in trade of the "organ harvesting and selling" variety. It's how Japhyr made his way, and naturally he taught you everything he knows. Your name and face is well-known in the organ trafficking circle, but you keep that little side hustle separate from your normal life. It's important to maintain a positive image, you know?

One of your primary hobbies is studying the occult and outer beings. You initially got into it in hopes of finding a way to help Japhyr, but now that he's dead you mostly keep at it for your own amusement and because it's genuinely fascinating to you. Maybe one night you'll work up the courage to contact one of the beings you've read about. But not now.

Your lesser hobbies include stargazing and watching youtubers, specifically those who review and analyze various media like movies, tv shows, and video games. You're also in like, thirteen different discord servers and mod a couple of them. How you have the time for that much activity? Who even knows, but damn if you don't make time. Those are your friends in there!

Speaking of your friends, you used to have a twin. The two of you spent the first sweep of your lives together before being separated by chance when Japhyr found you orphaned since said twin was away from the hive at the time. However, you were so young back then that you don't really remember much about him now. All you remember is that at one point you had a twin that you lived with before living with Japhyr.

You use knifeKind for your strife specibus. Your favorite knife is your trusty tanto knife, followed by your hunting knife, followed by your switchblade, followed by... Well, let's just say you have A Lot of knives. What can you say? You like sharp pointy things.

Your trollian is mundaneAnomolies "And you 2ort of hav3 a thing for th3 numb3r 23."

Important tags:

Brandy things

Brandy answers

Brandy muses

About Brandy

#Brandy Voleon

[shadowwolfmemes]

The lore of Liana Longtail

This is the same text from my Wattpad book. Anyways, here is the official lore of how Liana came to be!

I already mentioned that Liana wasn't born a wolf lycanthrope, but I didn't really clarify in detail, so might as well give you guys the full lore on how she became the way she is. When Liana was 10 years old, she was so obsessed with wolves, she wanted to become one herself. She would growl like one and even walk like one sometimes.

Liana's parents didn't think much of it at the time because she was just being a little kid. However, Liana didn't really grow out of it. She became more and more obsessed as she grew older, she even became a furry. Her family thought it was just flat out weird, but didn't really think much of it.

Well, her parents didn't, but her brother would sometimes tease her about it by calling furries cringy. When Liana became 15, that's when things got crazy. It all started with a strange dream that felt real. When she awoken, Liana suddenly realized she had fluffy ears, a big tail, and sharp teeth. She started freaking out because it wasn't normal.

Liana's family thought she was just playing around, but she wasn't joking. They didn't take her very seriously and told Liana to stop messing about by telling Liana she's not a real wolf. But she showed them otherwise and that's when they realized she was actually part wolf. They didn't know what to do.

They took her to the doctor, but he said he couldn't do anything about it. All he did was take her DNA and showed the results to the family. As a result, the family tried to hide the features to prevent Liana from being tested on by cruel scientists. At the time, they didn't know lycanthropes exist because they were extremely rare.

But when lycanthropes were proven they existed, the family slowly but surely became confident that Liana would be fine. And for the time being, Liana began learning how to use her wolf features such as transforming. That's when she learned she could talk to animals. 

When Liana turned 17, that's when she discovered a strange book that allows her to use something called astral powers. And at the same time breathe fire. Where she found the book is a story for another time.

At the age 18, Liana came across a new military base that was about to have its first grand opening. She signed up because it seemed interesting to her. The way she dedicated herself impressed others that they voted her. It was not just her skills that got Liana as the commander, it was her witty humor and playful behavior that would surely put a smile on anyone's face. 

Although she was loved in her workplace, Liana can't say the same with people outside of her workplace. Occasionally, she would hear some people say some snarky comments about her while walking by her in public. At first, it kind of hurt Liana's feelings that some people have little faith in her.

But then, she got used to it and simply ignored the naysayers because she doesn't see them protecting the country. They're just mad that they can't do what she can.  

And that is the story of how Liana Longtail came to be!

If you want, you can follow me on Wattpad (I go by the name Your Local Weirdo/ShadowWolfMemes14).

#Wattpad #OC Liana #OC lore

[prpfs]

Keeping this super basic because I have more info on my blog for partners to make a decision on, they don't even have to DM me to figure me out (unless they want to). Painless.

Looking for: 21+, NO Discord (I'll use tumblr dms or sth else), M/M, Romance+NSFW, angst+more, OC/OC or canon/canon (possible pairings+themes etc are on my blog)

M/C: Masc/Top, defaults cismale (ftm upon request only)

Y/C: cis or ftm! (no femboys, no self-harm, no drug addiction or otherwise bleak rps)

OOC: No puritans, no kids, no teens, no moralists.

Interact if interested. 🤙🤙🤙

^ (they sent this in as an amendment)

Hi, 👹 I sent in an ad that said "no self-harm no femboys no addiction" and some other things and thinking back it feels rude. I just wanted to clarify that it wasn't meant as hate despite how blunt it is, I listed those things up front because they're common and I know how tiring it is when YOUR THING is only listed as incompatible in the fine print and you get your hopes up for nothing. I fully support people writing anything they want!! I approve. Much love to my fellow weirdos who write thousands of words for fun like complete freaks. We are all fools, together. 🌍👫👬👭🌏 Beautiful.

So yeah. Occasionally I get so focused on not wasting other people's time that I forget to make sure I don't sound like a rude caveman. It's a real "Why waste time say lot word when few word do trick," moment, and in a WRITING HOBBY community, of all places... Bleak... Ooga booga role play unga bunga I guess. 👹🐒🙊

If you post that ad, please also express my regret for sounding like a rude dick somewhere, lol. The last thing any community needs is more misunderstandings. Sorry!

#dead dove #oc rp #oc roleplay

[teataglia]

hi hi! congratulations on your follower milestone!! if it’s okay, could i please enter your event?

my selfship is sumii / lumiina (sukuna and lumii) from jjk! ik it’s kinda odd, but he makes me feel really safe and i just think he’s overall really cool. a song i think that fits us is “daddy daddy do” from kaguya-sama.

thank you in advance and please take care!!

tea’s note: hiii omg thank you so much!! ofccc you can join <3 i really hope you enjoy this!! i literally love sukuna sm, i get it, i understand, we are on the same wavelength, and sorry this took so long! also sukuna would def have a skincare routine no one can convince me otherwise

milestone event!

pairing: sukuna x gn!reader

warnings: fluff! none!

The crisp click of the light switch stirred you from your deep sleep. Warm light flooded your vision as you groggily raised your head to peek at your boyfriend. Sukuna had done his best to slip quietly into the room, but how quiet can you be when you’re a hulking man and the world is too small for you to comfortably exist in?

He stood facing the dresser in only his boxers, giving you a lovely view of the broad expanse of his back. His meaty fingers clumsily attempted to fold his shirt, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he grappled with the fabric. 

“Need some help?” you offered, your groggy voice gently permeated the still night air. 

Sukuna looked over his shoulder, unsurprised that you were awake, but unhappy that he had been the one to wake you. “No, it’s okay, babe. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there soon.”

You pouted at him, voice tinted with petulance as you whined. “Why not now?”

“I still gotta brush.” Sukuna sighed, heart tugging at the thought of you wanting him lying next to you at that moment. Or always. 

“Ok! I’ll come with!” you chirped, now fully conscious. You threw off the covers and plodded after him into the bathroom. 

You put the lid down on the toilet and sat on it, resting your head on the palm of your hand as you gazed up at him dreamily. Your entire being focused on his existence, taking all of him in as he squeezed the toothpaste tube. The sheer admiration in your eyes would have fooled anyone into thinking Sukuna had completed some herculean task to win your love. But no, he was just brushing his teeth, trying to ignore your intense stare as he got ready for bed. 

"What’re you staring at, weirdo?” Sukuna asked with not an ounce of accusation in his tone.

"Noooothing,” you drawled, a smitten grin splitting your face.

“Well, then stop staring at nothing, you’re freaking me out,” Sukuna grumbled before bending over to gargle and rinse. You exaggeratedly looked around the bathroom, making a show of looking everywhere but him. Occasionally your eyes flitted over to him and you’d make eye contact, his incredulous look meeting your sheepish one, before you turned away whistling innocently. 

As he washed his face, he tried to force an irritated expression, but the best he could do was hide a blush and a smile. God, he loved you so much. 

On the way out of the bathroom, you caught his hand in yours. Sukuna’s fingers tightened around yours as his stare alternated between you, still sitting on the toilet, and the expectant yet disbelieving way your eyebrows arched at him. He knew exactly what you wanted and planned on giving you everything you could ever ask for.

“Fine, c’mere,” he picked you up with a steady grip around your thighs. You knew he would never drop you, but you clung on to him regardless. You also knew he liked the feeling of being held. He plopped you unceremoniously on the bed before lying fully on top of you, grounding you under the full weight of him. Rather than crushing you, his heaviness was a comfort, especially when he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and held you tightly to him. Tight enough to convince you that you were the most cherished thing in his life.

“Tell me about your day,” you whispered softly. You received no response, only the steady rise and fall of his muscular back. Your arms wrapped themselves around him, fingers running through his hair. Still nothing. “Baby?”

You were met with a faint snore. You tried to stifle a giggle as you settled in and succumbed to the waiting room of tomorrow.

© da1ryqveen 2022, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, translate, repost my content on any platform.

#｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ ᴛᴇᴀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇs #selfship 200 milestone <3 #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff

[0meatloaf0]

Weirdos and freaks ONLY

HEWWO?? I'm Mirage! I often get called Meat and Loaf as well, though. I like metal bands, horror, and beating up fictional characters. Mainly my own. By following my blog, you agree that you are...

A weirdo

A freak

Or just a curious tourist

MY BLOG WILL CONTAIN POTENTIALLY UPSETTING CONTENT! I'm just generally rated R. Please block me if any of the below upsets you, or block any of my tags corresponding with these. This is not a full list!:

(Fictional) gore, violent content, whump, abuse

Horror

Mental illness, suicide or suicidal themes, self harm

Sexual or otherwise crude humor

Occasional dark humor

I do not necessarily condone nor promote any of the above topics in real life, I merely portray them. Please do not use my work or my blog to purposefully upset, trigger, or harm yourself or others. I do not condone the usage of my blog as either a proxy for self harm, or as a tool to harass others (or me, as there's a fine line between constructive criticism and harassment). Browse responsibly!

#tumblr lets me pin posts :) #anyway #welcome freaks!

[uwusillygirl]

(Sry in advance if this is annoying bc she’s not the main characters in fof) but I’m soooooo curious about your thoughts on Robin in this verse. Obviously she and Steve are still best friends, but I love her jokey dynamic w Eddie and how nice she is to Chrissy. Also I can’t get over the scene where robin calls Eddie “such a lucky fucking bastard.” It lives rent free in my head because same robin me too. And Chrissy being confused by it is hilarious. This was all just a long winded rambling way of asking if you think Chrissy and Eddie ever find out Robin’s lesbian? I’m sure they’d know if this was a modern au or something but considering it’s the 80s and even though Chrissy and Eddie are weirdos/freaks I’m sure (maybe I’m projecting) that robin would still have a healthy dose of fear

you are all WAY too considerate!!! i get to sit around writing like the most in-depth, ridiculous, self-indulgent little fic and people like actually come talk to me about it!!! i'll answer whatever questions u want!!! and these ones are always so interesting!!!

okay so i'm gonna give my answer and then also give u a little nibble of a wip (which may never see the light of day the way i write, so sorry if anyone gets super gassed up over it) where i wrote about this concept bc i've actually been thinking about it too!!

short answer though is that robin is definitely extremely skittish about telling anyone, including them. i do think it comes out eventually after spending enough time together, though! she's more trusting of chrissy than eddie simply because she gets rose-colored glasses with girls/women who are nice to her, but in reality eddie is way less startled by it than chrissy.

okay and here's a little tiny wip bite:

Chrissy wasn’t sure how their conversation had devolved into something so base. It had started because Robin had mentioned that she had hooked up with this girl recently, and Steve had been surprised because he had also hooked up with her back in high school. 

(Chrissy had learned recently that Robin liked girls. As in dated them, liked them. Chrissy was fine with it — as if she had any right to judge on anything like that — and had actually been quite flattered that Robin entrusted her and Eddie with that kind of information. But the whole thing did short-circuit Chrissy’s brain a little. She’d just never met someone who felt that way. 

“What if I say something wrong to her?” Chrissy had fretted one night in bed shortly after Robin had let it slip. 

Eddie had just laughed. He always spoke to Chrissy gently about this kind of thing. He understood that while he’d been off living some vibrant, punk rock life that allowed for him to not be totally flipped by stuff like meeting someone who was gay or having a girlfriend that occasionally needed to be made to cry in bed, Chrissy had been trapped in an extremely sheltered childhood, born and raised by Reagan conservatives. 

“What could you possibly say wrong?” Eddie comforted her. “She doesn’t have a disease we have to be nice about, Chris. She’s just gay.”

Chrissy, wasn’t sure, felt like she somehow would find a way to step in it. 

“Right, but, like, can you believe we know a gay person? In Hawkins?” Chrissy followed up. 

“Yeah, sweetie, I can,” Eddie had murmured, voice growing sleepy. “It’s not like she’s the only one.”

“You know other ones?” 

Eddie laughed again, this time hard enough to shake the mattress underneath them. 

“Okay, baby, let’s not use terms like ‘other ones’,” he corrected gently after he composed himself. “You’re talking like Nancy Reagan over there.” 

Chrissy had slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t even notice.” 

“But to answer your question, no, not that have personally come out to me. But I imagine there’s more than one gay person in a town of a couple thousand.”

It sounded so obvious when he said it.)

All that to say Robin and Steve’s shared sexual conquest had triggered an attempt to create some sort of figurative sexual Venn Diagram of who they had all (well, everyone but Chrissy, who was just picking at the label on her wine cooler) had sex with that overlapped.

#asks #first one's free asks

[techromancer1179]

INTRO POST ‼️

quick introductory post since tumblr is currently the only social media platform i’m on!!

Normal Dni applies: no terf bullshit, no one weird or pissy about neopronouns/xenogenders. Freaks and Weirdos… u r ok 👍 but generally no Exclusively porn/kink dedicated blogs please thanks

Hey!! im known as techromancer1179 or Stinky (online). i’m a queer adult, autistic, and a resident girlboy; he/him pronouns please but cool with both fem and masc descriptors.

basic tag explanations:

• stinky speaks: argh that be me posts

• bumpy: art from my other account that i occasionally rb

•fav/me: both self explanatory

• pinned: posts that were previously pinned on my account. all still relevant

• 💌: any mail! asks etc etc

• ✏️💀: anything i’ve responded to with my silly little account mascot. does Not happen often

i have a few pre-existing trigger tags but those are mostly for me! if you’re a MUTUAL/ GOOD FRIEND/ BELOVED FOLLOWER feel free to ask me to tag smth

I HAVE ODD AND VARYING INTERESTS!! including but not limited to: wraiths skeletons specters ect., robots technology ai etc., weird fucked up looking bugs and creatures, old european arms and armor, a few varying video games, video game fishin’ , and anything generally off putting or strange

IF YOU DONT LIKE ME OR MY CONTENT FOR ANY REASON!! block me! its all good!! who Give a Shit

FINALLY: don’t be afraid to talk to me or tag me in shit!!! i promise the skulls are just for show .im a big softie

EXTRA LINKS FOR FUNSIES:

#figured i should put one of these out there #pinned #stinky speaks

[champagnepodiums]

What are your thoughts about RPF and fics in the F1 fandom? I think they’re fine just as long as people keep them away from the drivers, but I noticed that some people (even here on Tumblr) are very harsh about it to the point where it seems condescending. I get why people have qualms about RPF, but that is no reason to call others freaks or weirdos for reading and writing fics.

Oh full disclosure: F1 RPF is what got me into F1 to begin with. I occasionally write it (and other motorsport fic) and I read it.

I think as long as fics are in proper fandom spaces (like ao3) and are properly tagged, there is nothing wrong with them. If you think about RPF too hard, it’s weird but like it’s a whole lot more nuanced than what anti-rpf people try to make it.

But also fic in general tends to be a space for LGBTQ+ people like myself to exist without judgment. It’s also a space for people to explore different identities and that definitely happens through F1 fics. I have honestly made it a rule to no longer participate in non-fic friendly spaces because to me, that means they aren’t truly safe for queer people like myself.

So yeah, I’m very pro fic, pro F1 fic and I am protective of fic writers.

I think it’s fun, I do generally think it’s harmless and actually so important for young LGBTQ+ people to have access to. Hands down, some of the best literature I’ve ever read have been F1 fics and I’m not even kidding in the slightest.

I also love talking about fics so feel free to talk about them to me here. I do not tolerate people who are viciously against fic. If you want to have a conversation to understand, I’m cool with it but I’m never cool with who want to attack or demean.

#i could talk about fic forever