#if im openly not fasting when im on my period | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frillshark-fr · 4 years

Note

How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

-----

2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

-----

3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

-----

4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

-----

okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous

39 notes · View notes

vesperstalksclones · 4 years

Text

Ramblings of a Bipolar Geek girl.

And a picture of this sexy mother fucker who is haunting my shit RN and is viscerally intertwined with all my hot messy-ness. And why not?

Really this is just brain droppings. I'm ramping up in to what will likely be a doozy of an episode, so I needed a dumping ground and Tumblr seemed like the place.

I own that diagnosis, Bipolar, and not like in a fad way. I mean chemically messed up. My PsychNP who tends my medicine chuckles and pats me on the head when we talk. She loves my stories and our visits are usually more like coffee with a favorite aunt. Not a call for help or anything. I'm good. I think if you've started reading, then you'll find some things to laugh at.

Eh... OK. A&P/Psychiatry lesson. A lot of people talk about Bipolar disorder, but I've found the average person knows very little about psychological disorders beyond "crazy". Specifically, I am medicated for Bipolar II. Bipolar I and II both suffer from the hellish depression that comes in the cycle, but bipolar I is characterized by periods of mania that can get quite uncontrollable and self destructive. Like the things you hear about people running up tens of thousands of $$ on credit cards or selling their house on a whim. Bipolar II still has the manuc episodes, but not so severe. Its a wild ride, but mostly fun and exhilarating. But, well, thats mania. Like, I go through bouts of insomnia, obsessive behavior, blasts of energy; it feels like your personality is trying to shatter your skin and fly off in every direction at once.

The insomnia gets old, and the jitteryness can be obnoxious at times, but the obsessions are downright funny. In the past, oh years ago, I remember a year (I go in nice neat 3 month cycles) where I had a food obsession with fruit roll-ups (an American snack common in kids lunch pails if you're not familiar). So, my last episode was late May - June. I had a new opsession and or new symptom. I thought it was just this mysterious hormonal change that I hear talked about on sitcoms and movies and etc where a middle aged woman suddenly becomes a cougar. Well.... suddenly my mania comes with ADVANCED HORNY. Now, I'm a geek, always have been. And suddenly, this new manic horny thing (and my Puss Puss) said "Look! Fictional characters! And they have genitalia! Imma gonna latch on to this hard!" Somehow the worst of the obsession landed on my beloved clone boys.... and well I started my Tumblr account and poured in smut - fics, pics, follows, etc. After a few weeks, things calmed down. And I thought... well that was refreshing, sorry its over. NOW - three-ish months on.. its BACK. Next manic cycle and skin melting horny have me their grip! Is this shit here to stay?

Ok so... some of y'all write about this or that character going through a heat cycle or a rut... well... this bitch knows what that feels like. I can barely function. I am humming like a fucking tuning fork. I've changed my drawers twice today (sorry, gross but lol) and any conscious thought involves some depraved behavior involving specific handsome brown men. AND THE DREAMS I HAD LAST NIGHT! My stars and garters, I couldn't properly look Nitro in the eye this morning when he got up for work! (No worries, he and I have a happy comfortable relationship and we can talk openly about sex and people we admire and etc. That and IDK what my sexual orientation is so we can appreciate boobs together happily, but this can be another entertaining blog post)

LIke srsly, Temuera Morrisson, Sam Witwer, Dee Bradley Baker, Liam Neeson, and Ewan McGregor should consider getting ready for retraining orders against me. The money I would pay just to have these guys talk at me.. well... might rival that shit I said about Bipolar I mania 🤣.

All things considered... mania is exhausting. Your brain is on constant fast forward and I feel like there is a veil between me and the world. Im sure I'll do or say some stupid things that might embarass me later on, but right now everything seems fair game, kind of like being drunk or something. IDK. So that being said... time to sip some coffee, draw some clone dick,... and maybe write down some of those dreams from last night. Seems a shame not to share! 😁🥰

Love you babies! ✌

#vesperstalksclones #bipolar ramblings #psycho but it's okay #mentalheathawareness #no shame in my game #drinks silly dumb bitch juice

9 notes · View notes

onthepyre · 4 years

Text

cats

the second part of this is basically what i did last night but connor is a lot braver than me. anyway.

Evan does this at least once a week.

He gets home, and for whatever reason, whether it be the smile Connor gave him during lunch that lasted a bit too long or that romantic-looking restaurant he walked by on the way home, he's feeling sappy. And he walks straight to his room, lays down on the floor, and listens to Cavetown.

The amount of time Evan spends on the floor is directly proportional to how many times he caught Connor looking at him during science class. Sometimes he counts; the record so far is 23 times in one class period. He spent two hours on the floor that day, staring at the ceiling.

As soon as he's home, he's settled on his carpet with the soft sounds of a guitar playing in his headphones. It's peaceful, quiet. There are only a few things that Evan thinks about, and number one on his list is how much better it would be if Connor was here.

His heart talks about Connor a lot. His mind objects, but Evan's heart seems to beat with his name. Connor Murphy Connor Murphy Connor Murphy. Evan never gets tired of it. His heart talks about Connor's hair, his eyes, his smile, his hands-

Don't get him started on Connor's hands.

Evan has watched Connor draw before. The style of his art matches him well. It's sharp, fast, messy, perfect. But when he's drawing, Evan watches Connor's hands rather than the piece.

They're fluid. They glide.

Connor Murphy does not glide. He stomps, he runs, he marches, but he does not glide. But when he's drawing, his hands float. They look the same, as angular as Connor himself, but they're different. Softer. Evan figures Connor's face is the same, but he's always been too focused to look.

Evan often considers what Connor's hands feel like. They look strong, but Evan is certain they're lighter than they seem. He wonders what it would be like to hold Connor's hand. Is he one of those people that would hang on too tight? Would he barely touch Evan's hand? Would he be grossed out by Evan's sweaty palms?

Evan also, more tentatively, thinks about Connor's hands on his face. In his hair. Looped around his waist. These thoughts, of course, are more focused on where Connor's mouth would be at the moment, but there is attention to his hands then, too.

And Connor's mouth. Of course. His lips are always chapped and often bleeding because Connor picks at them when he gets bored and Evan knows this because he stares at Connor during French class and he knows Connor hates French. Connor bites his lips a lot, too. It isn't meant to be nearly as swoon-worthy as it makes Evan feel, but it nearly breaks him every time Connor chews on his lip. Evan's fairly certain this is something he does when he's bored, too, although it might be a nervous habit.

Connor has a lot of nervous habits, from what Evan's seen. He spins his pen, taps his foot, braids little strands of his hair — the list goes on. Evan knows each and every one of them.

——

Connor has his own sort of ritual. After begging Zoe to stop at Tim Hortons so they could get coffee, he sits at the window in the den and watches Law & Order SVU. He had never seen it until Zoe showed him the John Mulaney bit about Ice-T and now he's addicted. It's a problem.

Unbeknownst to either, Connor's SVU marathons are the equivalent of Evan's Cavetown sessions. Evan thinks about Connor and Connor thinks about Ice-T. And Evan. Mostly Evan.

Connor has a thing for the way Evan talks. He knows that Evan himself hates it and most of the school thinks he's annoying, but Connor thinks it's adorable.

Evan has to say exactly what he wants to say, and if he messes it up, he will start over. He messes up a lot. It doesn't help that sometimes his tongue catches on words and he gets stuck on a certain sound and has to go back to the beginning of the sentence. It takes active listening to understand what he's saying but it makes Connor melt.

That's the thing that makes Connor think so hard. He's supposed to be the mopey badass, the scary emo, the aloof rebel-without-a-cause. He has a reputation to uphold, even if it's less punk and more school shooter (okay, less punk and more sad). He may be openly bisexual, yes, but he shouldn't be falling for a tiny tree-obsessed nerd.

And the fact that Evan of all people is the one his heart decided on is, well, bad. Connor's too worried that Evan isn't into him to do anything other than stare and Evan can't take a fucking hint. Connor may think his cluelessness is cute, but it's also really inconvenient. Connor thinks a lot of things about Evan are cute but inconvenient.

Evan is really, really good at accidentally blocking people's paths and then moving out of the way at the same time the other person does, thus blocking them again. Evan hates it and Connor thinks it's funny. If it goes on for long enough, Evan starts blushing, and Connor starts falling apart.

And oh my god, when Evan blushes. It's not like it's uncommon, Evan is both awkward and incredibly aware of it, but Connor still thinks it's adorable. It brings out his freckles and colors the tops of his ears pink. If Evan is especially embarrassed, he'll try to hide in his hands, but his fingertips are always tinged with the same rose-colored mortification.

Connor's thoughts drift as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through instagram, but Evan is still there in the back of his mind. He's always there, no matter what Connor is doing. He spots Evan in the shadows created by the trees in the backyard; sees Evan's worried smile on his mother's face; catches himself doodling Evan's silhouette in the background of drawings. Evan, Evan, Evan.

Connor's phone buzzes in his hand as he scrolls past a collection of Bee Movie memes. He opens the message, noting it's from Evan.

hhey

He's still typing, but Connor replies anyway.

whats up

The typing bubble disappears for a moment, then pops back up

what r u duing

Connor takes a moment to grin at the misspelling before he responds.

watching svu

do u eanna come see cats with ne

uhh?? no but absolutely yes im coming, what time

theres a show jn half an hour

cool see you then

Connor tucks his phone into his pocket and pulls his hands through his hair. He's going on a date. With Evan. But it's not a date, his mind says. Connor ignores it.

He's out the door in no time, stopping only to grab a half-eaten bag of twix and shove it in the pocket of his hoodie.

——

Evan arrives at the theater before Connor does, and sits down next to a claw machine after buying his ticket. He thinks about texting Connor, but his energy for starting conversations is nearly gone — he barely stuttered his way through asking for a medium popcorn, so he's decided to recharge for a bit while he waits for Connor.

Connor bursts through the door a few minutes later, then stops to look around. He breaks into a smile when he spots Evan, who lifts his hand in a tired wave. Evan watches Connor talk to the woman at the ticket booth, then the man at the concession stand. He approaches Evan with a bag of Sprees in his hand.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi."

"I know Sprees are the worst, but they're the only food that seems to last past the previews, so." Evan nods, trying to hide the already partially eaten bag of popcorn sitting next to him. "Well, shall we?" Connor reaches down to pull Evan up from the bench. Evan smiles as thanks, but Connor doesn't let go of his hand. His mind moves at the speed of light, even though there are only two thoughts in his head: Connor Connor Connor and hand.

Connor holds onto him all the way to the screening room, where he tugs Evan into the back row. He drops Evan's hand as they sit. Connor drops the Sprees into the cupholder on his left and pulls out the Twix, which he starts inhaling immediately.

When the movie starts, there's only one other person in the room: an old man in the front row, who Connor insists is Andrew Lloyd Webber himself, and it's not an issue if they talk because Webber started this whole fiasco and deserves to hear their "critiques."

The moment the first cat appears on the screen, Connor is laughing. "Why does she have boobs?" he whispers.

"Connor!"

"If they're going to give her boobs, she should have six, not two."

"Connor, talk quieter!"

"Are we supposed to be attracted to the cats?"

Defeated, Evan drops his face into his hands while Connor cackles next to him.

They make it to Rum-Tum-Tugger without any other mishaps, but as soon as the new cat starts singing, Connor loses it again.

"Why is he wearing a fur coat? That's terrifying!"

"What?"

"You'd be scared if you saw someone wearing a coat made of skin." Evan looks over at him with a desperate expression on his face.

"Connor, please," he begs, "let's just… let's appreciate cat Jason Derulo."

Connor nods, still wheezing, and calms down a bit. Until cat Jason Derulo whips off his fur coat in a display of his cat muscles.

Connor drops his head onto Evan's shoulder. "I can't do this," he says through a fit of giggles.

But Evan is more focused on the fact that Connor's head is on his shoulder oh my god. And Evan hears Connor's foot tap, tap, tapping on the floor. Nervous habit. And once again, Connor's hand finds his.

"Gotta ground myself. Make sure we're not dead, y'know." So Evan, with as much bravery as he can muster, squeezes Connor's hand. And Connor squeezes back.

But Connor doesn't move. He stays there, his head on Evan's shoulder, his hand in Evan's hand. And Evan can't focus on the movie anymore. He eventually picks his head up to laugh at Mr. Mistoffelees, but Connor hangs onto Evan's hand for the rest of the movie. He's soft, softer than Evan expected, and evidently doesn't mind his sweaty palms, so Evan doesn't complain.

As the credits roll, Evan gathers the bits of courage he has left and look over at Connor. "Is, uh, was this, like a date? Or did I, um, completely misinterpret what's- did I misunderstand this? B-because-"

Connor cuts him off. "Do you want this to be a date?" He's quiet, much quieter than normal.

Evan's voice is even smaller when he answers. "Um. Yeah." He stares down at his free hand, trying to avoid the one Connor still has a firm grip on.

"Great. Then it was a date." Evan can hear the smile in Connor's voice. He looks up, and Connor is beaming, and Evan can hear his foot tapping the floor again. And Connor's hand is on his jaw and Evan is leaning forward and their lips are pressed together.

It's different than Evan had imagined. Slower. Gentler. But he's kissing Connor Murphy and Connor Murphy is kissing him back.

Evan is the first to pull away. He knows his face is a bright shade of pink, but he doesn't really care. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Oh, uh, my mom's here." He thinks he sees Connor's face fall for half a second, but he isn't sure.

"Oh. Alright. See you soon."

Evan leans over and pecks his cheek. "Thanks."

#treebros #deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #connor x evan #pining evan #pining connor #just a lot of pining #cats #lowkey just me projecting but its fine #kissing #holding hands #kinda sappy #june's writing

30 notes · View notes

rox-the-proxy · 5 years

Text

No Words Needed

There isnt much of an excuse for this other then im multishipper trash and i actually had time to type this out today (Considering ive been sick and so busy lately.) so uh.....i hope you enjoy!

"Trust me, your going to look great! There isn't anyone better then old Iggy here when it comes to adjusting stuff like this!"

"Hardly. I only know a few things. Hardly anything worth making such a fanfare about."

Riku couldn't help but chuckle softly as he stood a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest as Vanitas stood awkwardly, nervously while a man with dirty blonde hair and glasses worked on sewing and adjusting the skirt around Vanitas' waist. The skirt was simple, it was one those ones with a solid black layer of smooth cloth under it with a semi-see through layer over it. It was short on the front it ended just above his kneecaps, while the back part of it was long and ended just above his ankles. He had brought Vanitas here to Traverse Town to mainly show him around, a sort of reward for doing as well as he had been during his recovery period. That and he wanted the boy to see the worlds in a different way then how he saw them so long ago.

And it was working! Vanitas was in awe at just how big this world actually was. Especially when they traveled to the more festive parts of the town. It was there did Riku allow himself to be pulled and dragged wherever it was Vanitas' wanted to go and look at. Which is how they ended up in this little thrift shop, Vanitas was going to run past it but came to a dead stop before pressing his face against the glass and stared at something. At first Riku was a little concerned, the raven didn't even flinch when he called his name, but when he reached out to put his hand on his shoulder, he found himself being dragged into store and right over to where the skirt was. He believed that Vanitas was going to ask him what it was but he was shocked when Vanitas pointed at it and looked up at him.

"I want this."

Riku was taken aback by the confident statement, his head was spinning. Typically...boys didn't wear skirts, or at least the annoying kind of boys who believed that boys shouldn't wear skirts thought that. He looked at the raven who seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer. At least Vanitas was a patient person, he could wait for hours for a response if not days. Riku sighed, rubbing the back of his head before smiling at him. "Let's try it on first, see if it fits." Riku swore he was blinded by just how brightly Vanitas had smiled the second he said for him to try it on. Which is how they found themselves in the current situation, the skirt was big on his slim frame and had spent a while looking for another one that might fit. Though Vanitas did an amazing job at not showing it; Riku knew he was a bit sad that it didn't fit him.

That's when a blonde haired employee of the shop had walked over, asking of they needed anything. And suddenly, Vanitas was a mute. He wasn't quite used to talking to other people, not like Riku spoke a whole bunch either but he did now that Vanitas was around and needed time to get used to this new life style. Riku had smiled at Vanitas' sudden shyness and had explained about the skirt, and sadly they didn't have any other ones, however the blonde haired male who went by Prompto said there was a easy fix to the problem. That's when they met Iggy, or ignis as that was his actual name. The man had easily accepted to helping them mend the skirt to the appropriate size. Which is how Vanitas found himself standing so awkwardly and nervously as Ignis worked on fixing the skirt.

"So, yeah that's what happened to our home world. We woke up here and decided to set up a shop. No sense in crying about it, you know?"

Riku nodded at Prompto's words. Yes he could definitely agree with that. After hearing about their home world and what they had gone through Riku admired their ability to keep pushing forward and staying as close as they were despite everything. He looked at Vanitas who seemed to be fixated on whatever Ignis was doing, he was a curious boy by nature, much like Sora. And he soaked up information like a sponge, Vanitas was a fast learner.

"So, what's his story?" The blonde asked, which got Riku to tense up instantly.

It's not that he didn't trust the other male, it's just that... Vanitas' story was complicated and it wasn't Riku's place to tell it either. Considering the other boy was so private about certain aspects and parts of past and himself in general. The silver haired male sighed heavily as he rubbed the back of his neck. "He's just....he's been through a lot. Didn't have any good things in his life. So I brought him to...to relax and enjoy the night. So when he said he wanted that...how could I say no?"

"Especially to him?"

"Especially to him." Riku said without missing a beat, which one eye noticed a crimson blush dusted his cheeks and that got a laugh from the taller male next to him. "I-i just- he deserves a good life now after what he's been though...a normal life."

Prompto nodded at his words as he watched Ignis stand up and walk around the raven, inspecting his work. "Yeah, I get ya. Ignis had one hell of a ride back on our home world. See those scars on his face? Those were from a powerful magic and half of the price he paid to use it to keep Noct safe."

"What was the other half of it?" Riku asked nervously, those burn scars on Ignis' face looked wicked, it had to be painful he was absolutely sure of it. When he looked at the blonde he was met with a bittersweet expression.

"His sight. He was blind before our world was swallowed up by the darkness. It was here that he somehow got it back."

At that Riku was shocked as he turned to look back at him and Vanitas. They seemed just about done and the golden eyed male looked absolutely thrilled, giddy even. When those honey gold eyes locked gazes with him, Riku couldn't fight back the fond smile he sent him, which got him a blush and a shy smile back. Vanitas was going to be the death of him, and Riku oddly enough didn't seem to mind that at all. He only laughed as he walked over with Prompto.

"Looks great! Told ya Iggy was good at this kind of thing."

"Again, hardly worth the fanfare." He responded with as he helped the raven step down from the small circle stage like platform he was on. "Does it feel alright? Not to tight I hope?"

"Nope, it's perfect, thank you."

Riku was shocked by how quickly, confidently and easily Vanitas had responded to the question. The other two seemed completely unfazed by this and only smiled at his words and nodded. It seemed they to had experience in dealing with someone who was a bit shy when it came to social interactions. Riku smiled as he tilted his head with the skirt, Vanitas wore a tight, sleeveless black shirt and he had on a purple and black plaided dress shirt over it. Though while ignis was doing the adjustments Riku was now holding onto the said dress shirt. Though, Riku was sure he didn't need it, the outfit looked really good without it. "It looks good on you, Van," he said, turning to face Prompto and Ignis now. "How much do i-"

"It's on the house, call it a gift for new friends." A new voice interrupted. Riku would never openly admit that he was startled, Prompto and Ignis moved aside so a black haired and blue eyed male could stand between them now. He looked completely relaxed, maybe a little to relaxed. But he pushed that thought for the moment to the back of his mind when a much bigger man walked in and stood behind the three. He felt himself tense up at the sight of him and okay he felt a bit bad for reaching behind him to grab Vanitas' wrist and tug him a bit closer. Though the blue eyed male laughed at this. "Don't worry about Gladio here, he looks big and scary but he's just fat-"

"Aye! Watch it you little-"

"Boys, no rough housing in the shop." Ignis scolded instantly. This got Prompto to laugh, and that's when it clicked to Riku so those were his friends, he and told him about them while they chatted away as Ignis got the skirt squared away. He relaxed, sliding his hand into Vanitas' for a moment, he squeezed his hands as if to make sure that the raven was indeed still there.

"Right, sorry. Natural reaction. I'm Riku, and this is Vanitas. Are you sure? I mean i can easily pay for it." The silver haired male explained, looking a bit worried about getting that skirt free of charge. He watched as Noctis chuckled and gave him a shrug, true to Prompto's word he was young maybe no older then twenty and a bit lazy.

"I'm sure you can, but I want you to take it. My shop after all. Not like giving away one thing is going to shut our business down," he said with a hand on his hip.

"No, but your lazy ass might," Gladio added in, which got him a shove from the prince.

Riku watched the interactions between the four, he couldn't help but think that maybe if he and Sora had never gotten the Keyblades would he, Kairi and Sora be like that? Spending each day together without some kind of worry they would be ripped apart from each other? It was a nice thought, but another part of him wouldn't trade away his past either. It was his actions that had allowed them to travel to other worlds, meet new friends and make bonds with people he never would have been able to make a bond with. He took that moment to look at Vanitas who was also watching the other four individuals info of them. Had things not happened the way they did, he wouldn't have ever met Vanitas. He smiled as he reached over, wrapping his arms around around the raven haired boy's shoulder and pulling him flush against his side.

He couldn't stop himself from pressing his face against the dark colored locks of hair and simply holding him for a moment. No, if anyone asked Riku if he would want to change anything he wouldn't. He was happy with what he had in his life now, yes he missed Sora greatly and wouldn't stop searching for him until he found him. But he was happy, he was a Keyblade Master, one who could harness the light and dark, he had Vanitas at his side and he couldn't be happier. He could feel the confusion radiating off of the smaller male he was holding and the stares from the other four. He felt more then saw Vanitas give a shrug as if he was answering a question. After a few long moments Riku finally pulled away and looked to the four.

"Thank you, for this i mean."

Noctis smiled nodding. "It's what friends do. You guys are welcomed to come back here anytime you like."

Riku smiled, nodding as he moved to walk out of the shop, but stopped when Vanitas pulled his hand away. He turned around and watched as the raven turned to face the group. He seemed nervous, as if he was having a hard time coming up with something to say to them. Riku couldn't help but smile as Vanitas fiddled with the hem of the skirt.

"I uh...I just wanted to say thank you." Vanitas said almost awkwardly, he sighed and looked up at the four. "Thank you for this, I...didn't really have anything of my own before coming here and I guess this is the first thing that I've picked out for myself that's well, for me. So thank you." Riku almost panicked when he saw Noctis lift his hand. But was surprised when all he did was ruffle Vanitas' dark colored locks gently.

The look he was giving the boy was one full of warmth, understanding and sympathy. It's like he knew what it was like having had everything I his life picked for him, which he guessed he did. After all he was a Prince, the King of Kings. Though he didn't have a horrible life like Vanitas did at the hands of Xehanort, but he knew what it was like to have things picked for him without so much as his own input. Riku sighed in relief at how calm Vanitas looked, even if it held undertone confusion at the sign of affection.

"Your welcome, Vanitas. Be safe, go enjoy the town." He said.

And with that, Vanitas smiled brightly, nodding before slipping his hand into Riku's and dragging him away from the store and down the street. They we're a good few blocks away before Vanitas came to a sudden halt. The skirt swaying gracefully with his movements as he turned to face Riku. He paused, before he stepped up to him, sliding his arms under Riku's and hugging him tightly. It wasn't often that Vanitas showed affection so easily, he liked to keep this kind of thing private and only around those they spent most of their time with. So Riku was taken aback by this hug but he easily wrapped his arms around the smaller male, squeezing him tightly.

"Do what do I owe this?" He asked, at first Vanitas didn't answer. He figured that the raven wasn't going to. He didn't need Vanitas to answer to know why he was hugging him, so the blue eyed male only laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "There's nothing to thank me for you know,"

"Bull and you know it." At that Riku laughed loudly, picking the other boy up and spinning them, which got a yelp from the other. "Okay, okay I get it! Put me down!" When his feet touched the ground, Vanitas pulled away, holding his hand out to Riku who this time slipped his hand into his easily. "Hey...do you think that maybe we can-, well more if it's okay if I can-"

He was stopped when Riku placed his hand over his mouth. His eyes narrowed into a glare but when he spotted the fond look on Riku's face he couldn't help but let the glare fade. Slowly Riku removed his hand from over Vanitas' mouth and moved it so it rested on his cheek. A soft purr started coming from the golden eyed boy as he leaned into the touch when Riku started to stroke his thumb just under his eye.

"You can wear whatever you want, and buy whatever you want." He responded with, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "Come on, let's go see what other stuff we can find." He said, lacing their fingers together as they continued to walk down the streets.

By the end of the trip, Riku happily found Vanitas finally being able to bond and interact at least with Naminé as she helped him adjust any skirts he had gotten so they fit. And he didn't need words to know what Vanitas meant when he walked up to him, wearing another skirt and just barely brushing his fingers over his heart.

"I love you."

#kh fanfiction #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh vanitas #kh riku #post-kh3 #RikuVan #Riku x Vanitas #ffxv #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #Noctis Lucis Caelum #gladiolus amicitia

5 notes · View notes

your-iron-lung · 6 years

Text

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 8

AKA ‘Knock Knock Knock’; available to read on A03 HERE

Story Synopsis: Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7213

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Next Chapter: 9

Notes: i dedicate this chapter to my boyfriend, who cleaned out the hole in my finger after my moms dog accidentally bit me. told me i needed stitches then slapped a bandaid on it. guess im a werewolf now awowooooooo

"He's doing it again."

There was a bitterness harbored in Nancy's voice that made Steve look up from the abysmal slop he'd been picking through on his food tray. The tenseness with which she squared her jaw made him frown, and he followed her stern gaze to where she held it, directed towards something over his shoulder.

Turning his head to see what she was referring to, Steve felt he already had a pretty good idea about what it was he was going to see, and, true enough, sitting three tables behind them sat Billy Hargrove and a group of his old friends. Instead of taking part in any of the conversations Tommy was trying to start, Billy was steadfastly ignoring him in favor of staring openly at Steve. Suppressing the slightest of shivers, Steve sighed and turned back around to his food with a resigned expression.

"Yep, he sure is," he said dryly. "Nothing I can do about it."

In the two weeks since the attack, Billy had gone through a series of shifts in demeanor when it came to interacting with Steve. When he'd first returned to school, he'd ignored him outright with a stubborn sense of determination, but his dismissal of him quickly flipped and turned into an obsession that was so prominent, people- or Nancy, at least- had begun to take notice. At any given time, if Billy happened to be in any relative proximity to Steve, he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off of him, and although people had started to talk about it, their words did little to deter him.

Nothing stopped him from staring at Steve, and the attention was beginning to make his skin crawl.

But whatever it was Billy was doing, as long as it didn't get physical, Steve found he couldn't find the energy to care. He was still nursing his wounds, and had to worry about finding a job or something so he could pay his father back for ruining the BMW, and on top of that heap of responsibilities, there was the looming threat of finals, and while he was trying to manage all of those things as best he could, the simple fact that they hadn't yet found the creature that attacked him weighed heavily on his mind.

He had nightmares about it; about it descending from the trees in a heap of vicious limbs that lashed out at him, cutting his flesh to the bone- nightmares where he hadn't acted fast enough to be able to prevent Billy from bleeding out and, and instead had to hold him in his arms while his blood ran out of him, leaving him pale and gasping as the snow turned crimson around them. Hell, he still had nightmares about the fucking demodogs, so if Billy wanted to stare at him, fine. He had more important things to worry about, though he did have to admit that he found Billy's behaviour odd.

Was he staring at him because he realized that Steve had literally saved his life and was now thinking of a way to repay him somehow? He could start by replacing the car seat he'd nearly bled to death in, if that was the case, so he could cross that worry off his list. Or was his interest in Steve fueled by something more sinister, like a desire to seek revenge for belittling him somehow, despite the fact that Steve had done his damnedest to dispel any emasculating rumours that had surfaced after the incident? The last thing he wanted was for their bad blood to start flooding the school's hallways for everyone to slosh around in.

Nancy didn't bother lowering her voice when she spoke, and despite the general ambient tone of conversation that the lunchroom carried, Jonathan overheard what she'd said, and as he came to sit down beside her, setting his brown paper lunch bag onto their table, he looked at her for a confused moment before asking, "Who's doing what?"

He looked curiously between them as he began to unpack his lunch, setting a sandwich and a piece of fruit aside while Steve breathed out another sigh and tried to shrug off the eyes he could feel boring into his back.

"It's Billy," Nancy said when Steve declined to answer. "He's staring at Steve again."

Looking annoyed, Nancy let out a little huff and finally diverted her eyes away from where Billy was sitting to give Jonathan a small smile in greeting. Despite his growing annoyance with the situation, Steve managed to find some amusement in the fact that Nancy was more bothered by Billy's behaviour than he was. It showed she still cared about him somewhat, and that was one of the few good things he felt he had left.

"Why do you think he's been doing that?" Jonathan asked as he unwrapped the plastic surrounding his sandwich. His sunken eyes looked across the lunchroom for a moment to get a look at their subject of conversation before focusing back on his tablemates.

"Who knows with that guy," Steve commented indifferently, shrugging as he stabbed a fork into the meaty portion of his meal. "As long as he stays the fuck away from me, I don't care what he does."

"Even if you don't care, I don't like it." Nancy's eyes flicked briefly back to where Billy was sitting before taking a bite of lunch. Beside her, Johnathan had grown silent, eating his food contemplatively. "It doesn't feel right. It's almost like he's planning some kind of revenge scheme."

"Well you'd think if he was angry with you he'd have done something about it by now," Jonathan said, directing his statement towards Steve as he swallowed down a bite of food. A small smear of mayo streaked across his upper lip. "So far he's shown himself to be the kind of guy who acts immediately on his feelings, you know?"

"Oh, believe me, I know," Steve replied, unable to keep the slow drawl of sarcasm out of his tone, memories of nearly being beaten to death surfacing in his mind. Despite his reluctance to credit Jonathan with a good idea, he knew that he was probably right. If Billy had some sort of beef with him, he'd definitely have taken it up with him before now.

Besides that, whenever Steve noticed him staring and returned the look, he never really thought that Billy looked angry with him. He looked more lost than anything. Confused, even. He never even seemed to realize that Steve was staring back.

"Well if he's not thinking of ways to kill you, then what is he doing?" Using a napkin, Nancy reached out and wiped away the mayo on Jonathan's face, earning a timid smile from him in thanks. "He's been giving you weird looks all week."

"Hadn't noticed," Steve murmured sarcastically.

Nancy didn't appreciate the tone with which Steve spoke, but didn't press the issue beyond giving him a reproachful look. As their conversation died off, they ate in silence, offering Steve a chance to run through a mental list of who was hiring in the area, and what places he could reasonably send in an application, but having no prior experience with working, well, anywhere, left his options sorely limited. The places that would probably hire him were the places he had no desire to work at, but at the end of the day, what was it his dad was always telling him? 'Beggars can't be choosers'.

"The more I think about it," Jonathan said, stirring Steve from his thoughts, "the more I think it looks like he's trying to figure out how to approach you."

"What?" Steve shook his head in a way that he knew made his hair look good and laughed.

"What makes you think that?" Nancy asked.

Jonathan shrugged, looking down when Steve laughed. He picked at the crust on his sandwich as he spoke, peeling bits of brown bread away as he said, "The way he's been staring at Steve kind of reminds me of... me. Like, before I got to know you guys; back when I was on the outside looking in, sort of."

"Jonathan-" Nancy started, a sympathetic look creasing her brow.

The bell that signaled the end of their lunch period rang before anything more could be said. As they stood up and prepared to discard their trays and trash, Steve cast a look back to where Billy had been sitting. The boy was gone, though; lost in the transitional migration crowd as their peers began to make their way back to class.

Even if Steve wanted nothing more to do with him, he couldn't deny the fact that he'd been bonded to him in some regard when they'd both survived the 'bear' attack. If Billy had something to say to him, he'd listen, sure, but Steve wasn't going to be the one to initiate that conversation.

They hadn't even spoken since Steve had last seen him at the hospital, and that particular conversation had been weird enough to the point where he'd decided to give Billy the widest social berth he possibly could.

Whatever Billy wanted to talk about, he'd have to come to Steve first.

Coming back to school hadn't been easy for Steve; his injuries were so incredibly less severe than Billy's that he hadn't needed to take time off, but he wished he'd been allowed to. His writing hand was constantly sore because of all the numerous stitches running up his arm, and with the amount of last minute note taking he'd been doing in preparations for finals, he was half-afraid he was going to pop a few open as a result, but at least returning so soon had given him the opportunity to pretend everything was normal, and the more time that passed that allowed him to think that, the more Steve was inclined to believe that it really had just been a bear.

A mange-ridden, rabid, larger-than-your-average bear, sure, but it was better than the alternative; it was better than the unknown.

Despite his feeble self-assurances that carried him through his school days, he couldn't deny that he held an absurd amount of trepidation when it came to the simple task of opening his locker.

The last thing he wanted was to ruin his fragile psyche by finding more notes stuffed into his locker. But as the days went by and he hadn't yet found another invitation, he allowed himself to grow comfortable in the thought that the whole ordeal was behind him, and would remain as nothing more than another traumatic memory he'd just have to learn to live with.

He could manage that much. Or at least, he hoped he could.

The note that fluttered out of his locker then as he opened it threw his newly reconstructed confidence to the breeze. Steve stared after the offending piece of paper as it fell to the floor, already feeling a slight panic start to build up in his chest. The fear that the note had something to do with the woodland parties blinded him to the fact that this shred of paper was different from the invitations he'd received before.

Printed on fine cardstock that likely would have impressed a businessman like his father with its weight, the note that came fluttering from Steve's locker was the exact opposite of what he feared it was. This was a literal scrap of college-ruled paper, torn from a notebook and folded over itself lazily.

He turned away from the note lying on the floor and closed his locker quickly. He almost walked away without picking it up, and would have, too, if he hadn't caught Billy's eye at that precise moment.

Leaning against a row of lockers further down the hall, Billy was watching him, giving Steve reason to pause. Imperceptibly, Billy broke the stare between them and nodded once to the note Steve had left on the ground. 'Pick it up', he seemed to say.

Steve squinted at him, unsure of what his motives were. Driven by curiosity, he turned back to where he'd left the note and hesitantly bent down to grab it. Relief replaced that slight feeling of panic when he realized that the note wasn't like the invitations he'd received in the past. He turned back to Billy, only to find that he'd moved on. Crinkling the piece of paper in his fist briefly, Steve stepped back to his locker and unfolded the note.

'I need to show you something.

Meet me in the parking lot.'

Despite the fact that it hadn't been signed by anyone, the note had undoubtedly been written by Billy. Anybody else would have just asked to speak with him in person.

Tucking the note into his jeans pocket, Steve sighed miserably as he made his way through the hall, an uneasy feeling about the direction his afternoon was taking settling into his gut.

That feeling was improved upon when he finally stepped outside and saw just how gloomy it was. Wet, half-frozen snowflakes were falling from an overcast sky, creating an uncomfortable slush he had to trudge through to get to the student parking lot. Wind was blowing weakly, occasionally throwing a soggy flurry into his face that he had to wipe away in order to see.

People were peeling out of the lot as quickly as they could, desperate to escape the hideous weather conditions and get somewhere warm. His fingers played with the note in his pocket as he strode through the second-hand mush of winter and made his way to where Billy stood, leaning up against his car feigning nonchalance despite the fact that Steve could see him visibly shivering.

Because of his injury, Billy had taken to wearing his coat half on, half off. The brace that he'd been outfitted with to keep his broken arm in place wouldn't fit in the tight leather sleeve of what must have been his only winter coat. A smarter man would've dressed in layers, Steve thought, and then grinned a little because he himself had dressed in layers. Dress smarter, not harder.

"Wanna tell me what this is about?" he asked as he approached Billy, holding the folded note up for him to see.

"Thought I was being pretty clear when I wrote it."

Billy obviously wasn't in the mood for their typical banter, but Steve wasn't in the mood for being serious. He'd been stewing in serious thoughts all day, and if Billy was going to give him an opening to be an ass, then he was going to take it.

"Well, I mean, this could mean any number of things," he said, opening the note to read it aloud. Billy' looked away with a scowl. "I've only ever gotten notes like these from girls, you know."

"Christ, cut the shit Harrington," Billy said, rolling his eyes. He made to stand up, but was pushed back against the Camaro, a look of surprise overtaking his features as he felt Steve's hand wind itself into his jacket.

"No, you cut the shit, Hargrove!" Steve snapped, his pent-up frustrations boiling over. "You've been staring at me all week like a girl with a crush on me, and now you send me this? What is it you've got to show me? Your fucking dick or some shit? Because believe me pal, I am not interested in whatever kind of fucked up confession this is."

After his outburst, both boys went quiet, each of them stunned into silence after Steve's sudden eruption. Around them, the parking lot was nearly empty, mercifully allowing them a privacy neither of them had thought they'd need to have this conversation.

Realizing he'd had the lapels of Billy's jacket bunched into his hands, he let Billy go and took a step back, running his hand that wasn't wrapped in bandages through his hair.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, then turned back to Billy, who had yet to say anything. "Well?" Steve snapped. "You got something you need to show me or not?"

A mirthful smile spread across Billy's face when he spoke, a mischievous spark lighting his eye. "Yeah, I do, but it's at my house. Get what I'm saying, Harrington? I'm asking you to come home with me, stud."

Steve stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking away to laugh, sucking in frigid air and snowflakes that melted in his throat. Billy shrugged his jacket back into place, covering his injured arm from the cold.

"You're a real piece of shit, Hargrove," Steve finally said, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. I'll 'come home with you', or whatever, but I swear, if you actually whip your dick out when we get there I'll fucking kill you."

"Relax, asshole, I'm not asking you over for a fucking conjugal visit," Billy drawled, rolling his eyes again. Steve waited for him to elaborate more about what the nature of the visit actually was, but Billy had evidently said all he was going to about the matter.

"You want me to follow you then?" he asked, gesturing towards where his car was parked a few rows over.

"Try to keep up," Billy replied, smirking a little bit as he rounded the front of the Camaro to the driver's side, whereupon he opened the door and slid awkwardly into the seat.

"Don't you have to wait for Max?" Steve asked, speaking loudly as Billy started his car, but he never heard the reply if there was one. Billy began reversing almost immediately, intent on driving out of the lot as fast as he could to make Steve work for it. Breathing out a hasty "Oh, shit," Steve started jogging towards his car so he wouldn't fall too far behind.

Compared to Harrington's house, Billy knew that his own had no way of stacking up against it. Hell, Steve's house had a pool and Billy's didn't even have a second fucking floor. Everyone that lived in Neil Hargrove's house all lived together on the same miserable floor, cramped together by circumstance, and even though Tommy had cast his friendship with Steve aside, that didn't stop him from talking up how awesome the fucking Harrington house was.

It was one of those things he'd had to punch him out for.

All that aside, Billy honestly didn't give a shit about the state of his house; it didn't reflect him or his worth- only his father's, for he had been the one to settle for the shit-heap. Not everyone could be born into their wealth.

Regardless, he averted his eyes away when Steve's eyes wandered up the front of his home, taking stock in its size and the rundown condition it was in after he pulled into the driveway. He didn't comment on the miserable way it sat on its foundation as he stepped out of the car, or of how grimy the windows were as he walked with Billy up the front porch steps, and even stayed quiet when the wooden boards squeaked and groaned with their weight.

As they stepped through the front door, Billy finally had to address the queer feeling he'd been harboring in his stomach as nervousness. Steve looked around their tiny living room, but refrained from saying anything about its size. But oh, how he must have wanted to; Billy could see it written all over his pretty face. The rich fuck wanted to brag about how much better his own house was, he could feel it-

"Nice set up," Steve said instead, gesturing to where Billy had his work-out equipment set out.

Whether he was being sincere or not, Billy couldn't say, but the compliment had done enough to derail his spiraling train of thought.

"Gets the job done," he replied casually, taking his coat off and throwing it over his workout bench.

"I'll say."

"What?"

"You said you had something to show me?" Steve said, frowning a little at the look on Billy's face. "Please don't tell me you took me all the way out here just to fuck with me."

"Who's fucking with who?" Billy said with a hint of a snarl curling his lip. He had to remind himself that he had been the one to initiate this gathering, and had to bite back on some of the anger that had surfaced out of nowhere. Steve didn't say anything in response, allowing Billy time to simmer down enough to point at his TV. "Turn that on."

"You bring me to your house so I can turn your TV on for you?" Steve scoffed, but Billy looked serious. "Fuck you," he said as he stepped across the living room from where he was standing to kneel down and press the power button.

The screen flickered for a moment, struggling to stabilize as the black screen turned grey before sputtering to life, the colour image slowly beginning to materialize on the screen. Steve took a few steps back as he waited for it to come into clarity, not noticing the way Billy had averted his eyes away from the TV. His gaze was, once again, fixed solely on Steve, waiting to catch and gauge his reaction from what he was about to see.

Billy had rented the VHS tape of 'American Werewolf in London' from the store after Max had returned it, intent on showing the creature on the film to Steve, but had been too unsure of how he was meant to accomplish that show him right away. They weren't friends, or even anything remotely close to that, but ever since he'd seen it he'd known he'd have to clue him in on what he'd found out eventually. That, and he had more than just the movie to show him.

As the movie scene that Billy had paused the tape on finally came to light, he felt his injured arm itch, and longed to scratch it.

"What the hell is this," Steve finally said after a moment.

His eyes had grown wide at the sight at the tormented figure of David lying on the floor, face contorted in pain as he was caught in the throes of mid transformation. It was all the affirmation that Billy needed to know that he'd been right.

"Look familiar?" Billy asked, running his tongue along his teeth.

Steve stared at the creature for a second longer before shaking his head. When he turned to Billy, his face no longer looked frightened, but angry.

"No, really, what the fuck is that?" His tone was accusatory, and he was speaking so loudly he might as well have been yelling. "If this is your idea of some kinda fucking joke-"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Billy snapped back, brow creasing as Steve went into denial. "I figured it out, asshole! The thing that got us in the woods- that thing that nearly ripped my fucking arm off- that's it! Right there on that fucking screen!"

Steve turned away from him to stare at the screen again, eyes running over the details presented to him. It did look remarkably like the creature he'd grown content to believe was a bear: the sparse patches of hair, the elongated canine jaw, and the harrowingly thin frame that carried it all left little to no doubt in his mind that this was it. Whatever 'it' was.

"How did you-" His throat had gone dry with the realization. Steve had to wet his lips before he could speak again. "How did you find this?"

Billy looked at him contemplatively, as one might watch a dog that has tried to bite them in the past but still wanted to pet it. "The rental place by the arcade. It's a movie; Max was watching it."

"A movie?" Steve balked. "So you're saying we were assaulted by a movie monster?"

"A werewolf," Billy said decisively.

The unease Steve had felt building up inside him seemed to vanish in an instant. His body wanted to shake with relief, but he wouldn't let it.

"Holy shit," he said, combing a hand through his hair, stifling a nervous laugh. He took a few steps to the side, pacing in front of the TV. "This is unbelievable."

Billy regarded his shift in demeanor calmly, but with a frown. He reached into the back pocket of his pants and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, setting it to his lips and then lighting it.

"I mean, do you hear yourself? A werewolf? C'mon, man," Steve continued, finally coming to a stop in front of Billy. He shook his head and uttered out another short laugh. "I really thought you were onto something here for a minute, you know? Werewolves aren't real. What did you expect me to do after showing me this? You want me to call Hopper up? Tell him that what he's been looking for all this time is a goddamn movie monster?!"

"Well what's your theory then?" Billy finally replied, sneering around his cigarette, his anger smoldering beneath his skin like the burning end of his cigarette. "If it looks like a werewolf, acts like a werewolf, then fuck, what the hell else could it be?!"

"A bear!" Steve shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Werewolves don't exist, dipshit!"

"Then how do you explain my arm?!" Billy hollered, throwing his cigarette to the floor. He stomped it out angrily before he lifted his injured arm up, struggling to pull the sling up and over his head. Alarmed at the action, Steve stepped in to try and stop him but was roughly shoved away. "If it's not some kind of supernatural piece of shit, then how do you explain your hand?" he hissed, throwing the sling to the floor beside the crumpled filter of his wasted cigarette.

"What about my hand?" Steve asked, speaking levelly as he watched Billy's fingers fumble with the brace, managing to all but tear it free from his arm to drop it to the ground alongside the sling. "Are you fucking insane, Hargrove? What the hell are you doing, man, your arm-"

"My arm is fine."

Billy spoke curtly, practically cutting his own sentence short in his haste to show off what he meant. He peeled the bandages that had been wrapped around his arm away with hasty, scratching motions, and then held his arm up for Steve to see it. Where there should have been sections of stripped off flesh and bruises marking where his arm had been broken, there was instead… nothing. Astonished, Steve saw that there was not a single scratch left on his tanned skin. The mutilation he'd endured was gone.

As if that wasn't evidence enough to prove something supernatural was behind his miraculous recovery, Billy stepped towards his workout station and grabbed up one of his heaviest hand weights. Without so much as a grunt of effort or slight whine of pain, he curled it effortlessly in his arm, ultimately proving that his bones were no longer broken. Steve watched his display with wide eyes, mouth dropping open in confusion, because he'd known for a fact that Billy's injuries had been substantially worse than his own, and to see that his arm was totally healed now was baffling. His own arm still had all of the stitches in it, and throbbed painfully sometimes when he wrote with it for too long.

"Your arm was broken-" he stuttered, unable to fully put words behind his thoughts.

"Yeah. In three places," Billy said morosely, as though he were upset by the fact that it now seemed to be intact and unbroken.

"But then… What the fuck…" Steve whispered, reaching out to touch Billy's bicep to feel for himself if what he was seeing was true. The contact was short lived, as Billy immediately flinched away from his touch with a disgusted look plastered all over his face.

"My hand," Steve said flatly, pulling away without a fuss. "You keep saying it's all fucked up, but I don't see it. What the hell's so wrong with it?"

"No one else sees it- not just you; I've been watching people talk to you like it's normal all goddamn week."

"Tell me what you see, then."

Steve waited patiently, giving Billy enough time to put his thoughts in order. He'd been riled up before, and looked to be struggling with how to best describe what it was he was seeing that no one else could, his eyes focused entirely on Steve's hand.

"It looks diseased," Billy finally said after a moment. "There're these… puncture marks in it that just- look infected."

"Infected," Steve repeated, looking over his hand curiously, turning it forward and back. To him, it still looked fine.

"And it smells, too, like... " Billy sniffed and then immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It smells like the air did that night. Rotten."

"It didn't bite me, though," Steve said, frowning. "My hand wasn't hurt at all."

"No," Billy said quietly. "It didn't, but whatever you saw at that bonfire did."

A chill made the small hairs on his body stand upright as Steve was forced to remember the disembodied wolfs head, picturing it in his mind with vivid clarity. He remembered its teeth sinking into his flesh, poking holes into his skin that had vanished the instant he'd thrown it away in shock. No one had believed him then, but the look on Billy's face said he was willing to believe him now, but Steve wasn't sure if he himself actually believed it anymore.

Along with his willingness to write the creature they'd encountered in the woods off as a bear, Steve had written off his experience with the wolf head as just a bad trip, and now Billy was trying to turn it into something else, forcing him to re-examine the trauma as though it was something that had actually happened.

"You can see where it bit me?" Steve asked, speaking slowly and with an air of trepidation. "And you're saying that, what, it's infected now?"

Billy didn't reply right away. There was a strange look on his face as he studied Steve for a moment, his eyes trained on the hand he claimed was injured.

"I wanna try something," he said at last, stepping past Steve and into the narrow hallway that lead to the other rooms tucked away in his house.

Steve followed after him, glancing once back at the image displayed on the screen, wondering if perhaps the idea of a werewolf existing in Hawkins wasn't as far-fetched as he initially thought it was. Walking down the short hallway to where Billy had slipped into the bathroom he shared with Max, Steve took a glance into what could have only been Billy's bedroom.

Beyond it being small, (much, much smaller than even the guest bedroom in his own home), it looked just like what a person might think Billy Hargrove's bedroom would look like. Hot women, a vanity station, and a stereo to blare his music was all a man like Billy could ever need.

"Here," Billy said, stealing Steve's attention away. "Let me see your hand."

"What? Why?" Steve asked hesitantly, holding his hand warily away from where Billy was holding out his own to take it.

"What are you, a fucking child? Just give it here," Billy said impatiently.

Groaning mentally, Steve relinquished his hand. Billy gripped him tightly around the wrist, pulling a face as he drew his hand closer towards him.

"What're you doing-"

"Just hold still."

With his other hand, Billy held a clean ball of cotton and slowly moved it towards Steve's hand, his face pinching up in disgust as he finally rubbed the ball against his skin.

"That hurt you any?" Billy asked as he released his grip over Steve's hand, switching his focus from Steve's skin to the cotton ball he'd just swabbed over it.

"N...no?"

Billy grunted lowly, furrowing his brows as he held the cotton ball up for Steve to see it. "What about this? See anything on this?"

And to his horror, Steve found that he could.

The little ball of cotton had been clean when Billy plucked it out of the package. Steve had seen that, and yet, as he stared at the gruesome mixture of pus and blood on the side Billy had used as a swab, he couldn't help but think for just a second that perhaps it had come like that. No way had that awful mixture actually come from him. The fibers of the ball were stained yellow and bright red, indicating that whatever it was that Billy was able to see on his hand was an open wound. A gruesome, open wound.

"What the hell?" he uttered, mortified by the sight of the cotton ball. He rubbed his hand over the patch of skin Billy had swabbed, but nothing came up on his fingers when he pulled them away. He ignored the way his hands had begun to shake as he inspected the back of his hand uncomprehendingly.

"You see this," Billy said, gesturing to the stained cotton ball, "but you still can't see it on you?" Steve didn't bother replying. "Fuck. Fine, alright, let me see it again."

"Why?" Steve asked, looking over his hands again and again, trying desperately to see what Billy saw and could, evidently, interact with.

"Gotta clean it out." Steve paused with his examination and looked up at Billy who'd gone back to rifling through the things he kept stored behind the sink mirror, sure he'd misheard him. When Billy caught the look of disbelief in Steve's eye he paused, placing a bottle of antiseptic on the rim of the sink. "I know you can't smell it, but I can and it fucking stinks. I can't fucking stand it anymore. If I clean it out, maybe it'll be less, I dunno, putrid."

"I mean, maybe?" Steve could admit that he had no idea if it would make a difference or not, but Billy's logic was sound. "If it'll get you to stop staring at me, have at it, I guess."

Even though Steve knew from experience that nothing Billy did to the wound would physically hurt him, he found himself recoiling out of habit when he poured the antiseptic over the back of his hand. Billy arched a brow at the reaction, but held Steve's hand firmly over the sink as the liquid flowed over his skin. It didn't run off clear.

The tainted antiseptic left murky, bloody streaks that trailed into the basin of the sink as it found its way to the drain. As the bodily fluids left whatever invisible plane they existed on, Steve thought he could catch a faint whiff of whatever smell Billy had been complaining about. A scent of what could have been construed as rotting flesh or a dead animal had begun to take up the small space of the bathroom they stood in, causing him to grimace as Billy began to clean out the wound in earnest. He would have said something witty about how focused Billy appeared to be, using q-tips and cotton swabs to clean out the hidden wound, if not for the strange situation they had both found themselves in.

Instead he watched him quietly, and found himself admiring the way Billy became lost with what he was doing when he decided to really put his mind into behind his work. It was a side of him that Steve had never seen before, and against his better judgement, he found the way Billy furrowed his brow in a way that it wrinkled his forehead kind of... endearing. When he wasn't full of adrenaline and anger, Billy almost came across as personable.

Almost.

"Now who's staring at who?" Steve heard Billy drawl, and he had to blink a few times to draw himself out of his semi-trance.

"Please, don't flatter yourself; I wasn't staring at you," he replied defensively, watching as Billy turned his hand from side to side to make sure he'd gotten all the gunk out of the puncture wounds only he could see. "I was clearly mesmerized by all this shit coming out of my hand."

Billy scoffed, but let the issue drop. Instead of offering up a retort, he said, "You probably need stitches."

This time Steve did yank his hand away from him, pulling it away so quickly it thumped into his chest with a dull thud.

"What the hell Harrington-"

"I am not about to let you put stitches into the imaginary holes in my hand!" He didn't mean to sound so whiny about it, but he couldn't help the way his voice lilted in distress.

"I didn't say I was going to," Billy snapped, his calm demeanor turning into irritation. He cast away the soiled materials he'd been working with in the small bathroom trash can and pushed past Steve into the hallway. "I only said that you probably needed them."

"Yeah, well, what the hell do you know," Steve said, following after him.

Steve continued to hold his hand against his chest as Billy moved into his bedroom. He stepped into the doorway and watched as he made his way to the small, self-constructed vanity and began to rifle through a box of his belongings. Unsure of what it was Billy was looking for, Steve took the time to gaze around his room, eyeing up whatever he could and mentally storing away things he could use to discredit him in future arguments.

"Here," Billy said after a moment, pulling out what looked like a small, self-made first aid kit out of a hidden box. "Gimme your hand again."

"What for?" Steve asked, eyeing the box warily.

"To fucking amputate it, idiot; just give it here." Billy held out his hand expectantly, and rather reluctantly, Steve once again trusted him with the care of his hand.

In the small, inconspicuous first aid kit was an assortment of bandages, gauze, and adhesive tape. Steve didn't ask why he had it; only watched quietly as Billy took out a box of butterfly bandages and began applying them to where the holes in the back of his hand must have been. It looked odd to Steve to see his perfectly fine skin get bunched up underneath the thin, white bandages, but if this was what it took to get rid of the mark (and he was sure, suddenly that it was a marking of sorts), then he'd allow it.

"God, that's gross," Billy mumbled, scrunching his face up before wrapping Steve's hand in the medical tape until the bandages were covered and hidden.

"Gee, thanks," Steve said, examining Billy's handiwork when he was done. He hated to admit it, but he'd done a pretty good job dressing his hand for him.

They stood in the door-frame of Billy's bedroom for a long moment afterwards, neither one of them speaking. The weight of their discovery weighed heavily on each of their minds as they individually wondered about what they ought to do with the information going forward.

"So, I guess I'll tell Hopper-"

"We need to talk about-"

Steve laughed when they spoke at the same time, but Billy only scowled.

"Get the hell out of my room," he said crossly, pushing Steve out of the doorway and into the hall. "I need to show you the rest of that fucking movie."

Steve didn't like the movie. He'd never been a fan of the horror genre- couldn't understand why anyone would be, really-, but the werewolf movie Billy was forcing him to sit through was so violent it was beginning to make his stomach turn.

Worse than the violence, though, was that he had to watch a large portion of the film alone. Not that he was scared to watch it alone, but he definitely would've preferred not to have to watch it by himself in a stranger home. In order to keep up appearances, Billy had left him to re-dress his arm once he'd rewound the movie to a suitable starting point. Steve understood that he couldn't just walk around town with his arm the way it was, but even still, he didn't appreciate having to sit through the horrific movie alone at his insistence.

"Why the hell did you make me watch that," Steve complained once the movie had ended.

Billy had come in around the halfway mark, his arm freshly bandaged and back in its sling. He'd caught Steve cowering on the couch, watching the gorey parts behind the selective censorship of his fingers, and of course he'd laughed at him. He'd taken a seat on his workout bench, leaning against the dumbbell supports and laughed at him for a good five minutes, but at least that instant of humiliation had taken the edge off of the worst of it. Steve had been able to watch the rest of the movie without issue, but he knew he was never going to be able to live that down.

Now that the movie was over, Billy didn't look quite as amused anymore. He was watching the end credits slowly scroll up the screen with a somber, dissociated look. Unsure if he'd heard him or not, Steve was about to repeat himself when Billy finally spoke.

"To make sure you understood what's coming." Confused, Steve could only look at him uncomprehendingly. With a groan, Billy sat up from his hunched over position and turned his eyes away from the screen. "I guess you didn't get to being the 'King' of the hick capital of the world by being smart. Did you pay attention to the movie at all?

"It was a werewolf, Harrington; even you can't deny that now, and you saw what happened to that guy who got bit by one, or did you miss that while you were watching the movie through your fingers?"

"Shut the fuck up," Steve muttered in embarrassment. "It was one part; I watched every other second of the damn movie!"

"Then work it out for me, pretty boy; exercise that tiny little brain of yours for once and show me you're better than all the rest of these inbred Hawkins idiots."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but saw that Billy wasn't actually trying to initiate an argument. Instead, he was trying to reason with him. He hadn't forced him to watch the movie for his own entertainment, but was instead trying to show him something. There was something obvious Steve was failing to see here, and Billy was trying to open his eyes to it.

Mentally, he recounted everything he could that related to their situation. The bonfire, the attack, the recovery, his conversations earlier that day, the bite on his hand-

The bite.

"It- it didn't bite me," Steve finally said, his eyes going wide in realization as he recalled the conversation they'd shared not two hours ago. Billy's face lit up as Steve's succumbed to the horror the movie had exposed him to. "It didn't bite me, it bit you, so then, you- that makes you-"

Billy grinned at him sardonically, revealing his teeth.

"Guess I really am a monster now."

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #werewolf!billy #slow burn #long fic #stranger things #stranger things fic

14 notes · View notes

yaminerua · 3 years

Text

Still

seeing you gush with so much affection and say ‘I love you so much’ to someone else so so soon after it had still been being said to me is such a complicated thing to process.

you’d seemed hurt when you’d ended us, but did that feeling even last a week? after barely any time at all you’ve moved on and now call him the love of your life as though our years together and the dreams for a future we talked about building had never meant anything worth mourning for more than a moment. and now it seems it’s only me who’s still mourning what we were, and where I thought our lives were going together. Especially since you acted like our relatively manageable distance (which was only made uncrossable by covid) was too much pressure. if you’d held on a little longer I could have been with you again in little more than two hours if I took a plane. Why did it have to end right as things were starting to open again?

was I always going to lose to him? Even if we were stood side by side with the same distance away and everything. would you have always gone to him, if you’d known him from the start as long as you’d known me? Would I have ever had a chance to be with you or not...

regardness, now you’re with someone who lives halfway across the world on the opposite side of America and that’s apparently better and less of a pressure somehow. Forgive me for not being able to understand... sure he has money to come see you and he has the free time to spend long periods there with you and if he’s anything like me then any amount of time waiting and money and effort put into hopping that distance as fast and frequently as possible would always be worth it for you But god I wish I could have still been worth it for you instead.

I could have lived in Australia and I would have traversed the earth as often as possible to be with you. Distance was never a deciding factor for me and it seems it isn’t for you two. So why did my distance, being just a few hours north on the literal same landmass accessible by train, bus or plane, result in this... unless I really was just never going to be enough in comparison to him and in many ways I wish you’d never let me hope that I could have been your endgame. It makes being so easily replaced hurt so bad.

i hope he’s Every bit as worth it as you seem to think he is. I’m glad his multiple partners don’t bother you or give you any insecurities. It seems like it’s gonna be a healthy one for you so I’m glad for you. You must really love and believe in him and I can’t argue with that. If he won your heart I have nothing I can do to change that. and I want you to have happiness. You deserve it so much. But forgive this tender heart for wishing I could have stayed that particular kind of source of it for you.

but what gets me is that now you seem perplexed that I’m struggling to process all of this at the same pace as you did. I’m still in love with you, when you seem to have moved on so fast it’s like you’ve forgotten you’d ever said you’d even once loved me at all, like you’ve forgotten the years you spent telling me you believed in us and a future together and would do anything to make it happen.

idk If you’re just rebounding or if you’d already gone off me and switched to him long long before you started even talking about ending us and that’s why you got together so quickly afterwards. Perhaps I’d lost before I could have done anything to try to stop it.

but to say I shouldn’t still be hurt over this ‘just’ because you moved on faster is an insult to everything I thought had once been. It is no trivial thing. You were the love of my life. In spite of everything, in my heart you still are. Of course I’m heartbroken it’s over. Please don’t act like it should be a simple thing to bounce back from because you seemed able to do it in no time at all. Let me be hurt that it seemed so inconsequential for you but is the shattering of my whole world for me.

if you ever really loved me at all, and I hope from alll we shared that at least at some point you really did, then please understand why this heart that loves you so much is aching so badly seeing you so openly happy with someone else so soon after you’d seemed so reluctant to call us off.

It’s allowed to hurt. Give me time to let it hurt. I’m mourning a love and a whole future life that I’d dreamed of here. I’m nursing a sensitive heart that let you in beyond locked doors I’d never thought I’d trust anyone enough to open them for. You buried yourself deep in my heart and soul in a vulnerable central spot That was reserved for no one else and then in leaving and replacing me so fast you’ve caved it in and cut it open to bleed. I need time to let this crushed chest find room to breathe again.

im happy for you if you’re really happier with him than you ever were with me but I’m allowed to be pained seeing you replace me so fast. Please don’t expect me to find you so easy to just get over. Maybe you don’t think you’re worth mourning quite this much, but if that’s the case you‘ve seriously misunderstood how much I’ve loved you honestly and deeply with the fullest depth of my heart. I’d have moved heaven and earth for you. And if some how I never made the unending vastness of my love for you clear enough to you then I’m sorry. I dont Know what more I could have done.

im allowed to be sad that the 3 years we shared together taking it slow and steady and building things up gradually through trust and consideration, on top of that prior year of mutual oblivious pining, could be compressed and speedrun into little more than a week or two with someone you barely even knew for a quarter of a year by that point Right on the heels of breaking things off. If you had wanted us to move faster I would have. But I was careful and gentle with your heart because I wanted to be good for you. I wanted you to be always safe and comfortable and loved with me.

now you’ll speedrun everything as soon as you meet this person face to face and it’ll be as though all the time we spent together wasnt worth it.

that’s allowed to sting right? Please let me process the messy wreckage in my chest at seeing all of this play out, and try to reach a state where I’m not aching constantly over a love I can’t seem to shake off or win back before I can try to figure out how to just be friends with you again. I still feel too much and being so close and seeing and hearing about the way you two are is just. Too much still too soon.

Please have patience;;;; You used to.

#Heartache sucks. This sucks #This is all of my worst nightmare for this wrapped up in one #it feels like I wasn’t anything despite years by your side of some complete new person can speedrun #and get to the same place in a week that took time and careful trusting encouragement for us to reach #I hope it’s worth it for you. But rn I don’t know how I can be around to watch this unfold #I keep wishing I could just get you back. But I can’t compsre to this guy so I never stood a chance #years of something I thought you wanted because of how much we put our hearts into it #all gone because that person fits your type better #I wish I could have been morevwhat you wanted #I thought since you said you’d spent a year nursing a crush on me that your feelings would be more persistent #that I must’ve seemed to worth your while and worth the wait once #why can’t I have any hope that that might come back #I’m such a hopeless fool

0 notes

literalillbeats · 6 years

Note

⌛⌛⌛

For every “⏳” I receive, my muse will openly talk about a bit of their backstory.

ever since moving to america misha always encouraged us to speak in english at home so he could learn with us tooit wasnt as big a deal when we were still in russia but me and dirk had english classes then to prepare just in case and bro had to be working to put us through school and all that so he didnt get to have as much of an education beyond high school even though he really was supposed tomishas real smart and picks up fast too like dirk but english was a bit of a weak suit for a whilesometimes id forget and wed be chatting away in russian whenever i gave him a call but if we were under the same roof? he used to tell me off and remind me to use englishi still teach him every now and then but he manages way better now

there was one time i think it was somewhere between late elementary and early high school when i punched a pta parent in the neck cause she was one of those haughty i-think-im-better-than-all-of-you types and she was projecting that real hard on misha and talking to him like he was a dumb brick cause his english was still a work in progress and his accent was pretty thickactually i think at least half the fights i got into in that period was cause i hated the kids who parroted their parents who were doing that shit to bro and i couldnt stand iti mean sure his english was bad but fuck let him explain anything in russian and hes a goddamn geniushe really had a lot of potentialits not his fault he had to give up the opportunities to raise me and dirk

i still feel kinda bad about it sometimes even until now especially since im about to graduate collegei used to ask if he wanted to go back to school cause there are people of all ages everywhere catching up in their education anyway so it doesnt matter if he started college at an older age and hed always just ruffle my hair and say something about having to see me through my education first and be a good guardian to come home to after schooli think ill bring it up again and insist this time after i finish school

#damnhedidthat #voprosov;#headcanons #long;

2 notes · View notes

inspiredstory · 7 years

Text

Chapter 2

From birth, the new generation has been forced to follow the new regime. There were only two basic laws to follow; do not disobey the regime and, you are to live with & only love the person that matches your serial number. But for Jungkook & (Y/N) that was never an option. They never agreed with the new regime and now there’s a reason for both of them to fight back.

Read on AO3

Pairings: Jikook // (Y/N) x Surprise member

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8(coming soon)

Fear, that’s all that she could feel running through her body. The guards were running after her and she had to get away as fast as possible. This wasn’t her life on the line, it was her best friends.

Pain.

Blood.

Weakness.

(Y/N) looked down at her stomach to see that she had been shot at. Desperately trying to save her best friend she kept running amidst the pain & blood loss. Soon enough she had grown too weak to continue. All she could do was scream out “Run Jungkook!!” The guards were now at her side, pointing a gun at her face, “You’ve betrayed The Elite. You WILL be punished.” “Do whatever you want to me, but you won’t ever find him.” “Wanna bet?” Suddenly a different guard appeared dragging Jungkook by his hairs, “W-wait no. No don’t hurt him!” “Say goodbye to your friend.” “(Y/N)…” he said fearfully. “No please, don’t do this! NO!”

(Y/N) screamed out as she sat up in her bed, covered in tears, her hands were shaking and all she could think about was her horrible nightmare. Someone tried to kill her best friend. Her arms enclosed around her legs as she sobbed and tried to erase the vivid images from her head. Around 10 minutes later she gathered the courage to take a peek at her phone. 3:08 AM. She couldn’t help herself, she needed to check in on him… make sure he was ok.

(Y/N): Kookie? Are you awake?

Jungkook: Yeah. Why?

He’d never tell her that he always wake up at this time to speak to his lover; the only time where they could both hear each other loud and clear with no interruptions. Of course (Y/N) writing him as an indication that something wasn’t right and; being her best friend, he wasn’t going to ignore her. Despite his lover’s jealousy.

(Y/N): Just wanted to make sure you were ok

Jungkook: Is there a reason for me to not be ok?

(Y/N): It’s nothing... just a stupid dream.

Jungkook: You’re sure?

(Y/N): Yeah.

Jungkook: I’m not buying that.

(Y/N): I don’t want to tell you what I saw. Not through here at least. We’ll talk during lunch tomorrow ok?

Jungkook: Sounds good. Get some rest alright?

(Y/N): Thanks kookie. Sleep well. Love you <3

Jungkook: Love you too. Night.

“Why am I suddenly feeling anxious and worried?” Jimin asked. “My friend… she just texted me-” “The girl?” “Yes, her.” “I don’t understand this relationship you have with her. I don’t like it.” “What am I supposed to do? Tell her I never want to see her again? Tell her the truth? I can’t do that to her.” “I have a great thing with you and I don’t want anyone to take you away from me.” “She’s not going to take me away babe, I promise. I don’t care for her like I do for you.” “You seem to be forgetting that we are connected body & soul. I feel your anxiety & your heart racing every time you see her.” “Stop. I don’t like arguing with you. You know that. My heart races because I hate lying to her; I have anxiety because I’m torn between telling her the truth & lying to her face. She hasn’t hidden anything from me-” “You don’t know that.” “Yes. I do. Please, trust me. I swear to you on her life and mine; there is nothing going on between us two.” “Please don’t play with my heart.” “I would never.”

The connection was dropped and not long after both young men fell asleep with nothing except the thought of each other on their minds.

The next morning Jimin woke up with a new sense of tranquility in his heart & mind. After his daily morning routine the young man made his way towards the bus station where he headed off to college. Checking his watch he realized that he’d be at least 45 minutes earlier than expected, taking advantage of this he headed towards a quaint juice shop down to block from his college. No longer than 10 minutes had passed, Jimin was now sitting down trying to contact his lover. Sometimes he’d manage to break through and hold contact with him but, it took a lot of his mental strength to do so. Other times Jungkook would initiate the conversation but, being the youngest (unbeknownst to Jimin) he couldn’t control the conversation all that well. “Jimin? Park Jimin?” A dumbfounded girl stood a couple of feet away from his table, Jimin was far from confused. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” “You’re such an idiot. Of course you know me. It’s me… (Y/N).” Jimin; still very confused, tried to remember who this young girl was. Is she from college? No. Is she an ex- wait no, that’s not possible. An old friend? And then it hit him. “Oh my god. (Y/N)? Little (Y/N) from the serial matcher event?” She let out a laugh and took a seat next to him. “Yeah! Sorry about that, my parents go overboard with trying to find my serial number match.” “You look so… different!” “Well I was 14 at the time, silly. How’ve you been?” Her arm reached over, pulling him into a tight side hug. Some people passed by staring at the two engaging in such loving way so openly. Jimin whispered, “What’re you doing? That’s not ok.” “Oh relax. I’m not gonna get you killed or anything. It’s just a hug.” Still, Jimin was uncomfortable and shrugged her arm off. “Ok ok, I’m sorry chim chim. I won’t do it again; can I still shake your hand?” “Chim chim? WOW, I haven’t heard that nickname in ages!” “I have a thing for giving my friends nicknames.” “Do you also hug them?” He smiled, teasing her slightly. “Some of them. They’re kind of like you, out of fear they refuse contact but I do have one friend, my best friend. He doesn’t mind at all.” “Well it’s good to know you found your match.” “My match? Oh no, he’s not my lover or anything like that. He’s only my best friend.” “Wow, you sure live on the edge. Aren’t you afraid of punishment?” “Why would I be? I’m not doing anything wrong.” Just like that Jimin & (Y/N) rekindled their old friendship also missing their first class of the day while doing so. (Y/N) laughed as Jimin told her about how nervous he was to meet her all those years back when suddenly she glanced at her phone. A loud gasp escaped her lips. “Oh no! I’m super late! I’m so sorry Jimin I really have to go! The bus takes at least an hour and a half to my college and the teacher-” she sighed, “-is gonna kill me! Here-” she messily scribbled her number onto a napkin and threw it at Jimin’s face (unintentionally of course) “-text me later! Bye!” (Y/N) zoomed out of the juice shop and flew onto a bus to head towards her college.

“Where were you?! You missed first period you idiot!” Hoseok scolded his friend. “Aish, don’t be so rude maybe he was busy!” His girlfriend Eun Ha said as she playfully slapped his chest. “Everything ok, Jimin?” “Yeah of course, thanks Eun Ha. Can I borrow your notes Hobi?” “Fine.” He grumbled. “Don’t be such a grumpy butt, Hobi.” She smiled softly at him and instantly he eased up. Jimin stared at the couple in front of his eyes. They were perfect for each other AND they had matching serial numbers. ‘I guess The Elite occasionally does make the right match’, Jimin thought to himself. “Yo? Park Jimin, you in there?” his friend slapped his forehead in an attempt to drag him out of his thoughts. “You asshole, I was thinking!” The two boys began running around hitting each other & laughing. “Try not to kill each other before 2nd period boys!” Eun ha walked away heading towards her second class.

Jungkook waited patiently near the fountain occasionally looking down at the watch on his wrist. He sighed, “Where is she?” worried, he decided to text (Y/N). It wasn’t like her to be late.

Jungkook: Where are you?

(Y/N): Ran into an old friend & lost track of time. I’ll make it in time for lunch! Can you ask Ji Ho for his notes please?

Jungkook: sure. Youre alright tho?

(Y/N): yeah im good (:

Lunch slowly came around and (Y/N) had made it to her last 10 minutes of class. Of course, no one made it to class late with any punishment and today it was her turn to have a shaking arm. Her mood was completely different in comparison to the morning. It didn’t help that she kept replaying the images of her nightmare over and over again in her mind. She dragged herself to the fountain where Jungkook & she would reunite to have personal conversations, her eyes not leaving the ground. ‘What if someone hurts him? What if I can’t protect him?’ each question she asked herself took a piece of her heart. She wasn’t in love with Jungkook but he was more family than her actual family was and that meant everything to her. “(Y/N)?” Jungkook stared down at (Y/N) immediately noticing her shaking arm. Angrily he grabbed her arm, “They fucking cuffed you?” “Oww, not so rough!” He instantly eased his grip and sat next to her. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t usually see you being punished.” “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” “I thought I was the one that said that.” He smiled softly trying to get her to feel better but to no avail, she remained quiet. “What happened last night (Y/N)?” Her lips trembled slightly. Sure it was rough having to remember her nightmare but having to speak of it was a whole other emotion. “I… had a nightmare-” She spoke softly. “-about you.” “about me? What happened?” “I.. I don’t want to say it, Jungkook. It was awful.” “(Y/N), if it was bad enough to make you text me at 3 in the morning then you have to tell me.” (Y/N) took in a deep breath preparing to explain her nightmare. “Ok but please don’t interrupt me. I’m not sure I’ll be able to continue if I stop once.” He nodded. “I was near this alleyway and I’m not sure where it is exactly but I know it wasn’t in our area. I feel like it was…never mind. Anyway, so I was near the alleyway and I was running and I could feel myself panicking with adrenaline but also scared shitless. You know how dreams are weird so suddenly I felt pain and I mean like someone stabbed me and decided to carve a picture in my stomach or something. Apparently, I had been shot in my stomach by the guards while running away from them. I swear, I’ve never felt so much pain from a damn dream. Anyway, I touched the blood staining my shirt and it was sticky and just disgusting but nonetheless I kept running but, eventually, I lost too much blood and couldn’t keep going. I dropped to my knees and the guards caught up to me… that was when I realized why I was running. I screamed out your name and told you to run. I don’t recall what happened but somehow you were thrown right in front of me… down on your knees. You stared at me and I swear I never saw so much pain and fear in your eyes, it tore my heart. You said my name and I could feel your fear and it was just… it felt like you were saying goodbye. Right before I could see the guard's bullet go into your head I woke up screaming and well… you know the rest.” Jungkook stared blankly at his feet trying to take in everything (Y/N) had just told him. The two friends stayed quiet for at least 3 minutes before Jungkook spoke up with a question, “you… you said you felt like the dream was something... But then you stopped. What were you going to say?” “It’s nothing important… it’s a stupid thought.” “Just tell me.” “I...I thought it could’ve been a… premonition.” She looked at her best friend with tears in her eyes. “I know you’re not my boyfriend or anything but, you’ve accepted me more than anyone ever has and I’m just scared that somehow someone might want to hurt you. I don’t know how or why but you know you’re my family Jungkook. I can’t lose my family.” He had no idea what he could respond to make her feel better. There were no words. All he could do was lean in and hug her. They both stayed in their warm embrace for a while, gaining looks from their fellow classmates. Eventually Jungkook pulled away and held (Y/N)’s hands making her look at him. “We’re family, doesn’t matter if it’s not by blood. And I will always protect you just as I know you’ll always protect me. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not dying. And neither are you.” “I just-” “No.”

In the distance, a young man stared at the two friends holding hands. He quickly took a picture with his phone and made sure to walk away unnoticed. Thanks to him, things would soon change.

#jiook #jikook fanfic #jikook ff #bts #bts ff #bts x reader #reader insert #jungkook x jimin #jimin x jungkook

1 note · View note

acousticver · 6 years

Text

oof..

#im kind of tired of myself being so inconsistent #i know that questioning yourself is okay and i shouldnt be mad #but #im always thinking #i know that i was raised to be straight #then after seeing relationship my parents have and many others and also being in a straight relationship once #i understood that i will never be happy with a man #attraction to women i denied completely because it was not how i was raised #i specifically remember my mom asking if i was a lesbian when i said i dont want to get married and i denied it so fast and with disgust #so then i thought i was asexual #there was a period in my life where i didnt experience any attraction and was fine with it #then as i was put in a safe enviroment where people talked openly about homosexuality and gender #i started realising that i may be bi #bisexual was a term that was okay for me and i was comfortable with it #i learned that both of my friends are bi too but they are not as comfortable with it as i am #for me it was always like... 90% w and 10% m but its okay i guess?#i couldnt deny that im attracted to men cause whenever i see a handsome man i look at him #then i read a very intresting and infortmative article about how seeing men attractive doesnt make you less of a lesbian #how it really matters who you want to be with rather than who you are attracted to #i realized that i only see myself with a woman and that i can only love a woman with all my heart #my assumptions were confirmed when she appeared in my life #i realized that i never loved anyone like this i never had a crush like this #i genuinely love her and would want to spend my life with her #even though it will never happen #i wish to share love and happiness with a person who im comfortable with #thats why i identify as a lesbian #i am a lesbian #this is my pride month story this year

0 notes

andrewysanders · 5 years

Text

I’m Nine Years Old – The Birth Year

Happy Birthday to me … and by “me”, I mean this website, Life of an Architect. On January 14th, 2010 my life was irrevocably changed, mostly for the better, when I decided to start a blog site and start talking about what it meant to be, and work with, an architect.

In my effort to recognize this milestone, I thought I would take this entire week and write a blog post where I will isolate a year (or two or three) and talk about what happened, what was important, and why it matters. Consider it the ultimate peek behind the scenes … you might just be surprised by what you find out.

Life of an Architect – Year One (2010)

Best decision I made was to name my site ‘Life of an Architect’ … a decision at the time I didn’t consider much. I came up with the name based on a class I took as a Freshman when I was in college. That class was Architecture and Society and was taught by the great (and extremely popular) Larry Speck, FAIA. On the first day of class, before any of us knew who Larry was and just how important a figure he is within the architectural landscape of Texas and beyond, he moseyed on stage and told us that we were in “Architecture and Society” and that he named the class this because the “Architecture” part was self-evident, we were going to be talking about architecture, and “Society” because this gave him the ground to talk about whatever else he wanted to talk about. I applied this same logic when naming my site because I am an architect, and the “Life” part would allow me to talk about whatever I wanted.

Once I came up with a name, oh boy, this was an exciting year. I probably spent at least 20-30 hours a week working on the site and the content. The challenge was trying to learn what I was doing – I started editing photos and graphics in photoshop for the first time, and I meet Paul Anater who seemed to know everyone and was one of my biggest advocates in these early days (read this as evidence of my early reliance on Paul), and Amanda Eden – a Director at a public relations firm that specialized in the AEC industry who introduced me to probably hundreds of people, (and who is responsible in no small way for me starting a podcast) and is a good friend to this very day. Paul and Amanda, in particular, had a major role in those early days but there were countless others who engaged with me in a meaningful way that reshaped my world and I owe gratitude to every single one of them.

I wrote a mind-boggling 180 articles the first year – an average of one every two days. It’s hard to pick my favorite but since that’s my goal for this post, I’ll have to go with the following:

Top Ten Reasons Not to be an Architect Why would I choose this post, considering that I hate it? This post, probably more than any other, put Life of an Architect on the map and my online visibility shot through the roof. I even wrote a post describing how much I hated having written this post (Evil Top Ten List – I Hate You). Despite this internal turmoil I was going through, everything was happening really fast and every bit of it was exciting. In a relatively short period of time, I went from some guy in the next cubicle to having people from all over the world reaching out to me as if I had something worth reading – which was the root of the next big struggle I would face, but I’ll eventually get into that later.

Let’s take a look at how the traffic was growing and how this understandably shaped my behavior.

I have since learned that the people whose opinions I care about don’t give two shakes when it comes to website traffic and the metrics behind this site. The people that are most interested either write a blog themselves and are looking for some basis of comparison, or they are AEC industry-related folks that are looking to collaborate in some capacity.

Even though the born-on date for Life of an Architect is January 14th, I didn’t learn about or set up Google Analytics until early March. You can look at the graph above and you’ll see what I mean – just as you can start to see the rate at which the traffic started to grow. While this amount of traffic seems downright pedestrian to me now, it was a big deal in the beginning. Once I had basically learned how to “blog” I would have quit if it wasn’t for the on-going challenge I set for myself on how to continue this growth. I don’t really want to put it in writing because I find it a bit shameful, but this period came across as a huge validation to the things I hold intrinsic to my core values, not to mention a huge boost to my ego.

In the beginning, despite the fact that I didn’t think anyone would actually find OR read my site, I made the decision to be my truest self and not pretend to be something that I am not. This was a frightening decision because the opportunity to embarrass myself was coming at the rate of every other day (every 1.95 days if you want to get specific).

I know that some people will find it incredible that I would share the metrics of my site so openly, something that I’ve never cared much about. I’ve only had it really be an issue twice in nine years – once was when I was submitting my application for Fellows in the AIA and one of the elder statesman (who I barely know and don’t have any history with) here in Dallas started telling some people that I was lying about the numbers. Luckily I had someone who came to my support and shut all that nonsense down. The other time was much more recent when I had started the podcast. I was looking to understand how different the metrics were between blogging and podcasting so I reached out to a friend of mine who has been podcasting for some time and I asked for some help – ultimately, and rather disappointingly, I think they viewed me as competition and elected not to share any information with me. I have a policy of transparency on my site and if someone wants to know something that I know, I am going to tell them. To this day I wish this was something that more architects would practice.

Year One Page views – 518,635 Year One Countries/ Territories – 190 Year One Top Five Cities – Dallas, New York, London, Lisbon, and Los Angeles

I should point out that the blog was beginning to take its toll on my family during this period. The blog at this point was basically an exercise in learning how to do something new and I did not have the support of the office where I worked to spend time on it during office hours – which I totally understand. What that meant was all the time I dedicated to the blog was during my evenings and on weekends. The time it took to prepare an article every two days, while trying to expand the reach, learn about all the moving parts associated with social media, etc. meant that I was spending the equivalent of another full-time job on what was essentially a hobby. To say that this caused stress in my house would be an understatement as it wasn’t just my burden – it affected everyone. My daughter was 5 years old at this time and considering that she went to bed really early and that kept us in the house, this allowed me additional consideration to spending the sort of exorbitant time needed to develop the blog. I think if my daughter was just a bit older when I started, this blog would most likely not exist.