#it was giving me a few wildly different vibes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katz-chow · 3 months

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not yet...

synopsis: john price is a very patient man. warnings: 18+ i will block ageless & minor blogs. soft dom price, gn!reader, (pretty extreme?) edging and denial, bondage, gags, face fucking, remote control vibrator, messy reader

a/n: horny, ovulation, womp womp.

thinking about how strictdom!price would definitely be in control of your orgasms.

how he would most definitely edge and denial you for hours maybe even days if he feels like it. it’s not your fault, it never is—you’re always his good play thing, so obedient. but he wants to have his fun too.

so when you give him the greenlight, he ties you up with a spreader bar, standing up against the wall. i think when he wants to be mean, he loves bondage. gags, especially ring gags so your spit just drips out and he can stick his fingers into your mouth, gathering it up and using it as live against your hard nipples.

standing there, hands tied up behind your back, drool rubbing down your sternum and stomach, and legs spread so far apart that your slick is falling in a string down onto the hardwood.

his fingers trail down from your nipples and he finally touches you, your legs buckling. his thigh lands in between yours, keeping one of your legs up and pinned against the wall.

then off goes one edge, you’re panting already, eyes hazy and whimpers loud, having no way to silence them.

then another.

and another

“come on baby, it’s just one more…”

“precious baby, look at you go. how many was that? 7? 8? aw…all swollen and desperate for my touch”

you whimper as tears flow down your face and saliva continue to accumulate on your chest, drying and then gathering again in a messy, dirty cycle.

you can hardly feel your legs another, mindlessly just standing as the cool air calms down your nerves. it’s extra sensitive now and you’re so desperate, knowing that just a few more minutes and that dam of heat in your stomach will break and burst.

panting, his hands find that specific spot again and your eyes roll back, knees buckling like a newborn fawn. your eyes trail him as your head leaned back against the hard wall, pleading him.

and just as you’re about to cum, his hand pulls away and you let out a cry, so understimulated and overstimulated that it’s all so confusing. you watch him intently as price’s lips meet the top of your head as his hands undo the knot that keeps your own locked up and away

you’re confused, aching, and utterly confused when he undos all your ties and gag and carries you into the bathroom, cooing praises and affirmations.

but you’re tired and so you nuzzle up against him, as he draws you a bath.

two days after that, you found yourself on a similar position, hogtied with your head at the edge of the bed.

price got more creative the next time around, finding the softest red rope he could find and tying you up in beautiful, intricate knots only a military man could do...oh wait.

you whimpers as his cock slips into your mouth, your gag was gone today which meant 1.) your jaw isn't sore anymore but also 2.) he's making you say things to get what you want.

"say it baby, say how much you want my cum in you" he looks down at you as his hand grips your hair, yanking your head up to look at him. you're too dazed to look at him fully, eyes hazy and lustful as he denies your orgasm until the number reaches double digits. it was getting harder and harder to even pay attention to his words, the remote-controlled vibe buzzing wildly in between your tied legs.

but just as you were about to cum, he stops it with his other hand on the control. you cry as tears flow freely down your face.

"you didn't answer me...too bad, darling, was feeling nice that time."

you whine and try to inch closer to him, nuzzling his slick cock onto your cheek as an apology. "i need you, please..."

another bubble bath was drawn soon after that.

third day and things were different, no more ropes, gags, vibrators, nothing anymore.

just you say on the john's lap, his lips nuzzled into the crook of your neck as his fingers play around with you, using your sensitive and eager slick as lube. every stroke, every feather-light glaze of his fingers tips and you were so so close to cumming, it felt embarrassing. like you've never been touched by him before, but you have over a hundred times now. if anything he can't keep his hands off of you.

unbeknownst to you, you not cumming was driving him crazy as well. the caretaker role that he lets take over him is screaming as you're left unsatisfied every night before now. but the primal, strict captain in him rejoices whenever he sees you beg, repeating a string of "please" and his name over and over like a prayer. god, it gives him chills. when you cry and throw yourself into his embrace, humping his thigh or arm, so desperate to get off... he feels bad, just a tad bit.

so now he has you gently held in his arms as your nails dig into his skin, feeling so so sensitive. you cry as he stop, begging for more, yet when he does touch you, it feels so overwhelming you beg him to stop. you're confused and your dumb little brain can't process it. he's just trying to make you feel good...

but then he finds the right pace and then the right pressure and you feel his chest rumble with a chuckle as you finally melt into his embrace and rub up against him, panting and letting moans fill your shared bedroom.

"making you feel so good yeah? going so light and gentle yet you're squirming already...gonna cum for me?" john cooed as his pace and pressure stayed consistent, even as your back arches and sweat covers your body.

you feel the familiar feeling at your lower stomach, the burning, cracking fire that's about to burst. more begging and whimpers fall from your lips as his hand continues. you're ready for him to stop, to leave you hanging, messy and slick coating you.

but the arm around your waist holds you still as his pace remains the same. you whimper, "g-gonna cum...fuck!"

he kisses and nibbles the tip of your ear as you scream, your orgasm finally, finally rupturing through you. you feel your back arch as your head digs into john's chest, mouth hanging open as your body tenses up.

the orgasm washing through you for what seems like ages before you can register anything again. the first thing you noticed was the lingering of john's cologne that you hadn't noticed when he had you strip in front of him. and how soft his hands were, holding onto the flesh of your stomach and thigh as he grounds you. and then you hear his voice.

"it's okay, love...poor thing. didn't that feel good, hm?"

you nod, absent-mindly as he holds you close, dragging a throw blanket over you as hooks an arm under your legs to turn you that he's cradling you. he gives you a kiss on your cheek, then your nose, and then a long, soft one on your lips, before one on your forehead, inhaling your scent.

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xxoxobree · 3 months

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These are mainly 42 centered because that’s just what my brain comes up with 😭 hope that’s okay

I feel like this is wildly excepted, but I can’t NOT mention it…Could Miles 42 do his own hair? Yes. But he makes his mama do it so he can spend time with her.

We know that Miles’s dad and Aaron fell out in universe 1610 (at least I think so) SO because Miles’s dad isn’t there to stray the family away from his brother, Miles 42’s music is much more influenced by his uncle than 1610’s is. There’s a lot of oldies in there that he first heard because of him!

Adding on to that, I think there’s records in Miles 42’s room? Like I think it’s like in the back. Idk maybe I just saw someone say something about it

Anyways, on those bad nights where shit’s getting to him, Miles puts on a record or two. He loves his headphones, but the record player gives off a different vibe

I like to think about both Miles’ art styles. 1610’s is very freedom, graffiti centered (as we know). There’s a lot of color, he’s free with it. But I believe that 42’s is more, controlled? Idk the word, really. But there’s sharp lines and maybe even a little restraint? To show the difference between how they both grew up and what they’ve experienced through their loves.

I think Miles 42 is better at drawing what’s in front of him, versus 1610’s tendency to just sort of go with it.

both Miles’ favorite place is the roof, where the memorial for Aaron/Mr. Morales is. It makes them feel closer to the ones they’ve lost.

I’ve seen a Tiktok about Miles 42 having heterochromia? People argued that it was just the lighting in the movie, but I think it’d be cool? His eyes aren’t that different, but one is more hazel while the other is more brown.

Pokemon is Miles 42’s guilty pleasure. He likes the games a little (a lot) more than he’d like to admit

Sometimes I think i’d be funny if Miles 42 was a little on the short side? Like Miles 1610 grew because of the spider bite, but 42 stayed where he was? Like he’s not short, but he’s closer to average than a lot of the guys he hangs around and it’s funny because his attitude is 10 feet tall

Miles 42 doesn’t see his mom as much as 1610 does because she’s always working, so he does little things around the house to make it feel more like home when she gets off work. He lights her favorite candles, makes sure her favorite flowers are always in a vase on the dining room table. He likes taking the pressure off his mom’s shoulders because he knows she works hard. He goes above and beyond for her.

He sometimes (a lot of times) slips money into her savings jar so he can see her face light up when she counts it all

42 has his dad’s class ring from high school. He wears it a lot, but when he doesn’t it stays in a little box with his chains.

I can imagine both Miles’ just knowing random things? Like they have all these facts for no reason except the can

Both of them are the type to say they can’t dance even though they can do it better than basically everyone around them

If I think of any more I can send them! There’s also some stuff on my blog too!

Oouu I never thought of miles as someone who can do his own hair. Now that I’m thinking about it. He can definitely do 2 strand twist, but the two braids maybe a little too complicated for him and that’s why he lets Rio do it and to spend time with her 🥰🥰.

Definitely is influenced by uncle Aaron when it comes to music.

The art thing is soooo interesting I’d love to hear more about your theories on that.

I agree with the rooftop, I’ve written a few fics based on that rooftop 😂😂

He definitely has different colored eyes I actually made a post about that and I love it! Ones green and the others brown.

Short King Miles G 😂 I like to think 1610 miles has like 2/3 inches on him.

Yesss omg I agree with the dancing thing, in my head they’re amazing dancers.

These were soooo good, yess send me the others 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 thanks for sharing

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abiiors · 1 year

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Quiet

a/n: idk something with no plot, just vibes. only like 650 words. also i'm getting a bit bored of using "you" so i thought i would mix it up.

‘You’ve been so quiet tonight,’ he points out as he nestles himself right next to her on the sofa.

It’s big and cosy, perfectly adequate enough to fit three people if not more. Yet his determination to sit as close to her as possible never fails to bring a smile to her face; thighs pressed together and fingers intertwined. Touching. Always touching.

‘Have I?’

Her voice is soft and contemplative, still half-lost in thought. He might have a point there, maybe she has been quiet because she feels a bit lost in her head.

‘Hmm,’ a pause as he traces one finger on the inside of her wrist. It tickles, makes her squirm slightly. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

She lets him continue the finger trace-tickling for ten more seconds before she leans her head on his shoulder. Her head fits perfectly, at least that much is never different.

‘You think we shouldn’t have gone public so soon?’ she picks up a piece of fluff off his joggers just to occupy her hands otherwise, ‘with us I mean.’

‘Do you regret it?’

That’s what he always does. Answers a question with another question. But she does consider it for a few moments.

‘No, I won’t say I regret it. That’s not the right word.’ He watches her roll the piece of fluff between her fingers, stabbing it with her thumbnail, picking it up again when it falls.

‘Dismayed? Unhappy? Guilty?’ he supplies playfully, ‘...rueful?’

At that, she rolls her eyes and cracks a smile. ‘That was not the word I was ever going to use!’ and then she goes back to muttering about how she’s in love with the human form of a thesaurus.

He cracks a smile of his own and softly holds her chin to make her look at him. ‘So then what word would you use?’

She looks at her lap and shrugs, ‘I would say I feel…nervous about it.’

‘Nervous?’

‘Yeah, you know. Tense, nervy, jumpy…trepidatious,’ she grins cheekily.

‘Okay, smartarse,’ he huffs, ‘but tell me. Why nervous?’

‘I don’t know, have you seen photos of us together? Photos taken by just random people on the street,’ she gesticulates wildly to make her point. ‘I know you’re used to it but I am not. I don’t think I will ever be.’

She stays silent, breathing just a bit heavier than before but he lets the silence remain. Because he knows there’s more coming.

‘There’s this one photo,’ she says, ‘you look gorgeous. Like always. So cool and suave and like a rockstar. And I look like I’ve never smiled a day in my life.’

‘I’m sure you don’t look like that!’ and then a bit lower and teasing, ‘you think I look gorgeous, cool and suave?’

‘So not the point right now!’ she whines, ‘besides, you haven’t even seen the photo.’

‘Go on then.’

It takes her a second to find the photo. He doesn’t fail to notice that she has it saved on her phone and he makes a mental note of giving her a proper talk about not letting internet photos get to you.

‘Here,’ she shoves the phone into his waiting hands, ‘I look like a miserable egg!’

‘You do not look like a miserable egg!’ he tries to sound indignant but cracks up at the last second at the mental image. And backs away when she glares at him. ‘Okay okay! I still disagree but even if you did, you would be my miserable egg.’

‘Stop trying to be cute, Matthew,’ she scolds, ‘look at me, I look like a grump!’

‘You do not look like a grump!’ His voice is full of exasperation and his hands almost thrown up in the air. Full of so much certainty that she raises an eyebrow.

‘Oh yeah?’ she challenges, ‘so then what do I look like?’

‘You…’ he lowers his mouth to hers, just hovering, only just touching, ‘you look like my person.’

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kindnessoverperfection · 1 month

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Feel free to ignore this, but I'm a disabled writer who tends to focus on representation in my works, and I came across your posts about having npd while doing research for a side character in a story of mine. I really appreciate you taking the time to write out a description of npd that shows the roots of the issues and the way they affect the people who have it rather than how outsiders perceive it. I just wanted to ask if there were any traits of npd that you personally would like to see in npd representation/ if you have any thoughts on how you'd like to see characters with npd represented in media? I know at current there's basically no positive npd rep, which sucks for sure, but in a hypothetical situation where there was a character with npd who wasn't villianized for it, what sort of aspects of npd would be comforting for you to see reflected in a story?

Once again, feel free to ignore this ask if I'm overstepping at all, and I hope you have a wonderful day <3

Hi!! ♡ Apologies for the late reply, I wasn't on tumblr for a few days, then my alter was out for the next couple days and I wanted to be the one to respond-

I really appreciate that you're taking the time to research and create thoughtful representation, and I'm glad my posts could offer some help with that!

My first two thoughts are:

Characters whose symptoms present differently than the common portrayal of NPD

It's super common for people to not recognize NPD because they have this very limited view of what it is and how it can present - so it would be nice to see representation that shows variety in the way it can manifest.

For example, it's actually very common for someone with the disorder to primarily "lash in" rather than "lash out", but I never see that represented (intentionally, at least).

There's also a very limited perception of narcissistic characters being blatantly arrogant, grandiose, braggy, selfish, power-hungry, etc. But really, there's an unlimited number of ways someone can present outwardly, because the only thing that's crucial to the diagnosis is the internal experience - how if affects the person who has it. How they appear outwardly to others can vary wildly.

(I'll admit, some of these "stereotypical NPD" characters feel very relatable due to shared symptoms and vibes and power fantasies. To the extent that I have one of them as my pfp on some accounts lol. But if you met me IRL, my vibes are just "confident and bubbly, polite, quiet and distant, fashion-oriented, straight A student, cutesy, braggy, adventurous", and I always make the effort to be kind to people even though I can be somewhat distant and goal-oriented.)

It's also common to think of someone "flying into a rage" when they feel criticized - but anger (whether external or internal) isn't an inherent part of it. The issue is that someone perceives criticism as a threat, so their fight/flight/freeze/fawn response kicks in, and there's a large multitude of ways that can show up.

(Personally, I go into either fight or fawn mode. But the vast majority of the anger I've felt has been entirely self-directed, manifesting in the form of self-criticism, self-hatred, self-destruction, overworking, eating disorders, etc. I will occasionally feel outwards anger, but when I do, I give myself time and space to process it by myself so that I don't upset anyone. And even for those who feel external anger much more often than I do, it doesn't mean they'll express it in an aggressive or harmful way.)

tldr; I'd love to see a variety of outwards presentations, with the NPD being shown via their internal experience, rather than only displayed through stereotypical external behaviors.

2. Humanization for characters with NPD who make mistakes

People with NPD are human just like everyone else, which means that mistakes happen. Everyone accidentally fucks up, hurts someone, lacks self-awareness in certain areas, etc.

The level and type of interpersonal struggles, and the reasons behind these struggles, are all across the board. That's understood with any other disorder (or any sort of identity), but there's so much extra baggage and stigma applied when NPD is involved for some reason.

So for characters with NPD with higher interpersonal conflict, I'd want them to be humanized in the same way that anyone else with any other identity would be humanized. And I'd also want it shown that characters who don't have NPD can have high interpersonal conflict as well, that it's not limited to this disorder.

"what sort of aspects of npd would be comforting for you to see reflected in a story?"

In terms of specific aspects-

Personally, I'd love to see a character who like... tries to be perfect. Is externally very put-together in some way - maybe they're very kind and soft-spoken and sweet, or they're silly and happy and energetic, or they're quiet and serious and protective, or calm and mysterious and self-assured, doesn't matter. But everything seems okay on the surface.

But internally, they put so much pressure on themself. They hold themself to impossible standards, and feel like they HAVE to be seen a certain way and never show weakness. They have to handle everything perfectly. Just... so many symptoms and struggles that are hurting them internally, and overtime it ends up bubbling out in small ways, or like. Tbh I'd love it if someone would just... notice.

Notice the perfect bubbly happy straight-A student who's always kind and never shares their own opinions. Notice the quiet, highly-skilled protector of the group who somehow always knows the right thing to say and the right way to act.

And give them permission to be imperfect. To be human. Show them that they aren't their reputation or their skills or how impressive they are, they're so much more than that.

They can see the pain they're in, and instead of treating them as this untouchable perfect being, they treat them in a human way.

The super bubbly character seems completely unaffected by recent tragedy? Okay. Their friend doesn't ignore that. They don't push and prod, but they don't ignore it. They sit with them, spend time with them, hold them, they know it affected them.

I'm imagining a scene where the character w/NPD fucks up somehow, and they seem fine, but someone close to them suddenly Realizes and they just. Go to find them. And they're just having a massive breakdown, but the moment they see their friend, they quickly try and shove everything under the surface and act cool and unaffected and "normal", but their friend goes over and just holds them and. Ungh. 10/10

Couple months ago I did actually see an episode of a show like that, and both times I watched it, I bawled my fuckin eyes out lol.

Different people may have different answers in terms of what they'd feel most comforted by, but for me personally, I'd love this so much, because this is how I present and I desperately want to be Seen and Loved and have someone see my self-worth as being inherent and not tied into how "perfect" I am.

Closing thoughts:

Personally, there's not much that I'd feel offended by. To be honest, in addition to characters who fit the above points (various presentations, average-level interpersonal conflict, etc.), I also write characters who have that "stereotypical" presentation. I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as it's not done maliciously, especially if there's other types of characters shown. (Similar to having both gay villains and gay protagonists or side characters, y'know)

The only thing I'd dislike / that would hurt my feelings is like... seeing a character be heavily demonized for their traits*, or the only characters with NPD being horribly abusive, or the usage of stigmatizing language (aka, if the character is spoken about the way buzzfeed articles speak about us).

*aka, demonized for the symptoms. Totally fine if someone does something shitty and it's pointed out as being shitty / if people dislike them for that lol.

Hopefully this isn't getting too long, but to give an example of what I mean, something I saw that did hurt my feelings was like-

There was an episode of a show where a character got super braggy and confident, and was relishing in the praise and admiration she was getting. Hinging her self-worth on that recognition and success. And her friends got annoyed and pissed off, simply because she was braggy. There were a couple of things here and there she did that were kind of insensitive, but that was never really pointed out or seen as the main issue, it was only her bragging that was being demonized for some reason.

And then her friends all ganged up behind her back and did something to intentionally trigger a crash and make her feel insecure and terrible about herself, all to "knock her down a peg". And the narrative framed that as being justified, framed her friends as being correct in this situation. They never once showed concern for her mental health or the fact that she was hinging her self-worth on other people's opinions of her, they tore her down for her bragging instead of either a) supporting and uplifting her, or b) showing concern for unhealthy mindsets, and they never even tried to approach her or communicate with her about the things she was doing that actually were insensitive.

Hopefully that wasn't too much of a tangent lol, but that's the type of thing I mean by "being demonized for their traits". Hate when all a character is doing is bragging and feeling good about themself and the narrative frames them in an extremely negative light for it :(

Okay I will wrap up the post here as it's already pretty long, but hopefully this helped a bit!! Thank you for the question, and good luck with your writing! ^^

#actuallynpd #writing #npd representation

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c-rowlesdraws · 9 months

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what don't you like about made in abyss? (don't worry I've never heard of it so I'm not invested in disagreeing with you)

you can read my other recent replies to people on this very blog for more of an idea, but I also made a few posts in the past that you should be able to find in my “made in abyss” tag— grabbing the links is a bit annoying on mobile but I’ll try to edit this post with some. It’s hard to explain why I don’t like it without also explaining why I wanted to like it, and I feel like I’ve explained that more eloquently in the past, but I’ll give it another shot here.

It’s a story that, like the titular abyss itself, lured me in with wildly creative worldbuilding and a fascinating mystery: a town is built around the rim of an enormous, apparently-bottomless hole in the ground filled with magical treasures and strange animals, and explorers called “delvers” get down in there for fame and fortune and scientific curiosity. The pit grows more and more dangerous the deeper you go, because of increasingly hostile terrain and wildlife but also because of supernatural properties that make ascent increasingly painful and dangerous. The deepest levels of the pit are shrouded in myth and mystery, because the few humans who have delved that deep invariably die attempting to return.

This is the abyss that swallows up the two young heroes of the story: twelve-year-old Riko, whose legendary Delver mother went missing at depth when Riko was a baby, and Reg, a strange amnesiac cyborg boy who was found by Riko on the edge of the pit. They befriend each other and together Get Down Into That Thang to solve the mysteries of Riko’s mom’s disappearance, Reg’s origins, and the very nature of the abyss itself.

It could have been SO good. But the mangaka has a lot of awkward-to-upsetting fetishes and he super likes drawing them into the story, to the point where I decided a ways in that it just wasn’t worth reading anymore for me personally. Everyone has their own threshholds for objectionable content and I hit mine. But every time I see news about a development in the story (both the manga and anime are ongoing), I’m reminded of how incredibly cool and beautiful some aspects of the story are, and how much fun I could have had following it if the majority very young cast just.. didn’t get mutilated or naked or put in sexually suggestive situations so often.

But the manga and the show are both, it has to be said, incredibly successful, so a lot of other people just have their personal comfort threshholds in different places than mine and that’s how life is. But in my opinion the sexual and voyeuristic gore aspects (and I love me some gore!! But not like this!) give the whole story bad enough vibes that I wouldn’t recommend it or watch/read much more of it than I already have.

#catie talks #ask #made in abyss #made in abyss negativity

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basilpaste · 18 days

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I was recently relistening to the Groundhog Day musical soundtrack and while I was going through it, I had the thought that the song Hope from it kinda gives me Loop vibes. Lemme know what you think!

okay so ive never actually listened to the groundhog day musical despite having know it exists for a few years now? but uh here are my initial thoughts!!

^ loop ass lyrics. those are loop isat ass lyrics.

(also i switch from the lyrics on spotify to the lyrics on genius from here out because theyre incomplete on spotify lmao)

i love when time loop stories do the actor thing. and obviously it fits for loop for. gestures wildly. its so!! this song is basically about the protagonist of the show repeatedly trying to kill himself, right? okay. something about the 'frozen pane of glass' line very much gives me being frozen by tears with a loop reading.

also: another aside. the wordplay in this song goes crazy the pain and pane and the different definitions of cast? very good.

lmao. thats just. thats just what loop does. this is just the thoughts loop expresses in the twohats fight. the trying endlessly and hopelessly and being unable to make their way out of everything despite their efforts.

then the song breaks off into a constant repetition of '[ill] never give up' and its!!! very much something that feels like a shifting goal for loop. they give up on their wish and destroy themself, after all. but they never give up on finding a way out, do they?

and then with siffrin- stardust. they want to help him escape. at a certain point, despite all their anger, you can tell. their confrontation in act five makes it clear that loop does care for them. they, in some capacity, dont want them to give up that same way.

aaaand scene. very twohats fight. desperation and resignation all in one. collapses.

#basil answers #asks #anon #in stars and time spoilers #i LOVE when people send me songs to analyze with characters. back when i was in the m.cy.t space a few years ago #i got a lot of asks like this and it was always SO fun.#i do not claim to be number one loop understander but theyre very neat to look at songs through.#cw suicide mention #isat spoilers

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onedaughterofman · 1 year

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Untitled vignette #6 (Mary Goore x g/n reader)

Summary: You meet Mary by the old cemetery's gates. On afternoons full of sorrow and misty memories, they show you it's okay to stop running away for a bit.

Tags/Warning: mentions of depression, angst, emotional hurt/comfort maybe. Implied past death. He/they pronouns for Mary. Totally self indulgent.

A/N: wrote this as some sort of therapy for myself, but I liked the vibe so you can also have it. For some reason, Saturdays awake a special type of sadness in me.

You first met Mary by the old cemetery’s gates.

On an afternoon you thought it’d bring nothing but sorrow, he appeared bathed by the dying golden sunrays. Instead of transferring any clarity to his body, the light casted shadows on his gaunt face, deep circles around his eyes.

“Goore,” he said, sitting down and kicking at the dirt with heavy combat boots. “Mary Goore.”

“Isn’t Mary a girl’s name?”

The question didn’t mean to be invasive or rude. It escaped your tongue without any harm behind it. Mary seemed to understand immediately, because only a smile formed on their lips.

“That’s what I told my parents!” They exclaimed, wildly gesticulating with one hand. “But no, they insisted that was my name, so I stopped fighting. It doesn't matter anymore, it grew on me.”

There are only little pieces and details of Mary’s life that you know. He used to live around the area, he explained one afternoon, when the church was still full of life and not corroded by the passage of time. He’s in his twenties, played guitar for a band and hey, it was an undoubtedly good band.

You never heard about Mary’s band. They seemed a bit sad when you told them so, a sheepish smile on your face. You promised to give it a try, to listen to the songs and pay attention, but he refused. “No, listen to Sepultura. I mean it. Bestial Devastation, that’s some good shit.”

Mary never talks too much about themselves. On late afternoons and early nights, he sits down by the cemetery and listens. They listen to you complain about life, work and the price of gas and food. They listen to boring routines or whatever recent show you got fixated on.

On gloomy nights, they also listen to the pain that consumes your guts to the very core. Mary doesn’t interrupt. They don’t say things will get better, or that one day you will remember all this and laugh. Mary never advises you to go outside or work out, they never try to tell you it’s all in your mind.

No, they nod, and their hair follows the movement of their head. The auburn curls are darker under the dull light coming from the old lamp, falling on his forehead almost like a black curtain. He flinches when your fingers rise to try and tuck a few stray strands away from his eyes, but then smiles again and moistens his lips.

“Don’t ruin my style,” he says, but there’s something else he’s keeping quiet about.“I spent way too much time in the mirror for this.”

You don’t try to touch him again. For the next afternoons and nights, you merely sit content next to them, listening to music or any wild anecdote of a past concert. Some days, you think it’s a miracle Mary Goore is still alive and breathing. They merely laugh when you mention it, but there’s a sting of bitterness on his tone.

Perhaps it’s not bitterness. Maybe it’s melancholy, or a different type of sadness that clings to his body like a cloak, something that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever see past it.

Mary Goore remains mainly a mystery. Yet, they listen and wait for you by the cemetery gates. If this is friendship or merely two lonely creatures huddling together to face the raw bleakness of life, you don’t know it.

“I’m tired,” you whisper to Mary one day. They nod, dark pupils lost somewhere in the distance. “I’m so tired all the time.”

“It’s cause you keep running away,” he murmurs too, absentmindedly chewing on his lips. “You are always running.”

“Where am I running?”

“I don’t know,” Mary shrugs, a somber expression on their face.“I used to feel like that, before. Life didn’t make sense, I wasn’t even having a good time and everything felt dull and useless. I think I started running away from things that made me sad, hoping that maybe everything would be better if I ran fast enough.”

“Did it work?”

When Mary laughs, it sounds like bells on the distance. Not the cheerful type of bells people describe in romance novels. No, it sounds like heavy chimes from a ruined chapel, an agonizingly deep rumble.

When Mary laughs, it’s like a death knell.

“No, it fucking didn’t. I made friends and dated people only because I was running away from loneliness. I woke up and forced myself to do shit ‘cause I was trying to escape the dread.” When they pause, the wind howls and the warm air hits your face, coating it in little dew droplets. It will rain later, but Mary doesn't seem to realize it. "When you run because you want to escape something and not because you are going somewhere, it becomes tiresome and senseless. You are blind and dumb.”

“I feel very blind and dumb all the time.”

“Because you run like a headless chicken.”

After tedious days and nights of empty stomachs and full minds, you begin to think he’s absolutely right. Mary nods when you tell him so, letting out a few chuckles. It’s frigid outside, but he’s wearing the same thing he always wears: a leather jacket, a shirt with a band no one has ever heard of, ripped jeans and combats boots.

“Aren’t you freezing there?”

“I’m always cold,” they say, nonchalantly. “But I don’t care anymore.”

Some days, you also don’t care anymore.

Sitting right next to him, so close you could lean to the side and rest your head on his shoulders, you sigh loudly. Even if it’s tempting to attempt any type of physical contact, you don’t. At this point you realize Mary seems to despise it, to flinch any time you reach too close to them. You don’t ask why, don’t question or try to force the contact.

It’s okay.

Mary’s body is close, and that’s all that matters, even if you can’t feel any heat coming from them. He must be freezing, too stubborn to actually wear suitable clothes.

“I think I died,” you utter under your breath one day while fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. Mary does the same, dusky eyes locked on the ground. He seems to realize you don’t want anyone to look at your face. “Sometimes I feel like I have died a thousand times in different ways, except physically.”

The silence is heavy, but not oppressively so. It’s almost like a weighted blanket on a rainy day, sheltering you from the biting cold. Mary sighs profoundly, hair falling on their face when they nod. “Sometimes I feel I have died in all the ways I could die,” he says, after a beat. As much as you ache to reach out and grab his hand, you don’t.

Mary seems to think the same. Instead of extending his hand, he leans to gather a stick from the ground. The wood is cold and slightly damp when they move it in your direction, offering the other end of it. Eyes wide and mouth agape, you hold onto it for dear life. The smile on their face is gentle, softer than you have seen it before, but it carries that clear sadness that constantly follows them like a shadow.

“Stay that way, okay?” Mary comments, when the sun is gone and the clouds obscure the already inky sky. "Die in a thousand more different ways, but not physically. You can’t run towards something without a body.”

“What should I run towards, anyway? Right now I’m just running away.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s shitty, but that’s the way things are, I guess. You’ll find something along the road, if you stop moving without eyes and actually see.”

“Is that all life is? Running and moving around, either escaping or searching for something?”

“You can come and sit down here. I used to do it all the time. I was tired of running, so I came and sat here for hours and hours. Drank something weird, got sick and fell asleep on the ground. Woke up so cold and dizzy. It wasn’t nice.”

“Weren’t you scared to fall asleep on a cemetery?”

“No, I felt right at home.”

Again, the bells tolling in the distance. For long seconds, you stare at Mary, at the youthful yet gaunt face, at the pale skin and long black lashes. The shadows, the deep circles, the thin hair… You take all of that in and engrave it in your memory.

Under the moonlight, surrounded by death and decay, Mary looks terribly ephemeral. He appears to be made only of memories, of a collection of past experiences and desires that no longer exist outside these rusty fences.

It’s a sorrowful thought, but also a reality. Just like they appeared one afternoon without forewarning, you feel one day they will be gone.

They notice the way you have become lost in mind. The wooden stick moves between your fingers as they shake it from the other end, swaying it back and forth in a motion meant to be comforting, to remind you to stay in the present.

“Thank you for stopping by and spending time with me,” they murmur in a hushed tone. The wind howls, a prolonged languish sound that send shivers down your spine. “I wish I had met you before.”

You want to speak, but there are no words inside your mouth. Swallowing doesn’t break down the knot in your throat, doesn’t kill the burning anguish that has made a home of it.

“And I meant it. If you are too tired to move towards something or whatever, just sit down with me for a while.”

“Maybe we could find another place, don’t you think? It’s so cold and gloomy here.”

“Why? Like I said, I feel at home right here.”

Exactly like that first encounter, you continue meeting Mary by the old cemetery’s gate. No one sets a foot on that abandoned land guarded by gargoyles and crows, except you two. Mary expends hours talking about obscure bands no one remembers anymore, or Sunday masses that used to take place on the ancient chapel that now falls into ruins next to the graveyard.

Sitting down on the damp ground, fingers curled around the end of a small, withered branch that shakes every time Mary gesticulates with one hand, you stop running for a bit.

Ps: DO listen to Sepultura's Bestial Devastation. Mary's tattoo (the one on their arm) seems to be based on the cover of that EP. If you like Repugnant, you'll probably like it too.

I hope this distracted you all from The Dread.

#mary goore #mary goore x reader #repugnant band #my writing #my fic #mary my beloved

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kihaku-gato · 1 month

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hey!! you follow my plantblr (unexpectedplantblr) and i’ve learned so much just off your tags dude. wdym pruning omg i’m so wildly unprepared how and when should i be doing that! i can’t imagine they have yt videos on shit THAT basic do they!?.

and my apples are dwarfs?? i’ve been stressing abt them so close to the house and was trying to find an arborist to help me move them but do you think they’ll be ok with just some root guard? omg i’m so sorry to bug you feel free to ignore!

There’s no issues and I welcome the asks! This enthusiasm gives me old tumblr days vibes that I think many miss these days lol.

Inevitably most domestic fruiting woody plants need a trim up of pruning for maintenance. Some types don’t need it overall or don’t need it at certain life stages, but those are the lucky cases.

While I’m currently still in the midst of pruning season as of writing this, your photos imply it’s a smidgen late for you to be doing any at all unless it’s either for major issues or dead/diseased wood; it’s generally best to get the pruning before said woody plants leaf out but while they are still dormant to reduce shock, to avoid damaging freshly sprouted growth (since if you’re early enough there’s no leaves to worry about), and keep them wasting energy on wood that’ll be cut off in the process. I recall I got my info on pruning mostly by book literature but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some niche videos on the topic online- there are yt video journals and tutorials for niche fruits like Asimina triloba cultivation/maintenance so surely less exotic stuff would have online tutorials on it. Do try to find more than one source to try to average out the answers they give lest they give different answers or overlook different details (gardening can get subjective sometimes after all). If I recall the rule for Grape vines you try to keep one “lead vine” intact to be the one to produce new yearly branches/shoots that will then produce the grapes.

Fortunately I think you don’t have to worry about any issues with skipping the livewood pruning this year; let this year just help you get more familiar with what you’re dealing with.

For next year I can at least say from my own experience a few points; universally you want to prune to remove dead, damaged, and diseased wood, as well as any branches that crisscross with each other (since those will just make damaged wood from rubbing if allowed to stay), and generally you try to not cut more than a 3rd of the live growth (even if it means you gotta wait next year to fully shape a tree if the pruning work for some reason is major- which is my case with my older unkempt trees) to avoid having the pruning reach deadly amounts (there are exceptions- most Clematis are pruned to extreme amounts most of the time, well established Grapes and Kiwis can have a lot taken off too in certain cases). Oh and big one that newbies can miss; if you're getting tools, try to get bypass type pruning tools, anvil type pruning tools do damage to live wood (since they crush moreso to cut unlike bypass) and are better for exclusively dead/removed wood.

Observe what others do to their trees of similar kind to your own; I learned a little bit on what to do with my own apple trees from seeing what other people have done to their apple trees of similar size in my region.

It’s not easy at first but set goals for what you’re pruning. In my case a good chunk of my apple trees are quite old (we’re talking hollowed-out old for many of these trees), so my goal is generally to help extend their lives as well as fruit production as a bonus, so I try to reduce the sources of major weight burden on the large crumbling branches. Another goal in my case is making it that the branches are not as high up so that they are easier to maintain and harvest from, since yet again, my trees are on the larger/older end of what to expect from an orchard.

While not an option for me consulting Arborists is definitely not a bad option if you’re free to throw the cash.

Pruning rules/goals for your dwarf apple trees will probably be slightly different from what I do for my own trees since you’re dealing with very different growth forms from my own.

I am not 100% certain your apple trees by the house are dwarves but their growth habit feels more like what I’d expect/imagine from dwarf/semidwarf trees; as to what fruit variety it could be a lot of possibilities; apple trees tend to be grafted onto rootstock that affects their hardiness/size, so you could have similar cultivars to what I have for the fruit/scionwood but would definitely have very different cultivars for the rootstock that they are attached to. If the previous owners knew what they were doing they would’ve chosen dwarf roostock cultivars to avoid them becoming troublesome so close to the house.

In my opinion dwarves or not they are a bit big already to risk moving/transplanting away from the house without a painful and risky amount of long (worst case possibly years worth) of aftercare; if that is or was truly an issue you’d be better off getting new rootstock to plant in the new locations and grafting onto them from the house specimens onto those new rootstocks (you can hire/ask experts if you can’t quite do it yourself, we had a family member of a family member help save a heritage cultivar in our orchard by getting some successful grafts from the dying tree. I plan to do some grafting myself down the road I just dk what to graft rn). I am not familiar with root guard, from what I read it's a brand of fertilizer that claims to help stimulate root growth???

Also note with the Cherry/Plum trees mention before; one of the issues for ID sometimes for them is there’s just, a lot of species, a lot hybridize together, and that’s not even considering/factoring in domestic hybrids/cultivars where the diversity can be as wide as it is for apple cultivars. It can really muddy the waters for identification down to the exact kind unless you’re dealing with a very sharp specialist or a very distinct variety, and even then some may struggle with certain cases.

Lucky you to also have something as fancy as a finger lime! I already guessed so but that definitely solidified my guess that you are in a warmer growing zone from me lol.

#plantblr #ask #askbox #tried to break it apart to make it easier to read but dear lord that's a lotta text #wall of text

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winterandwords · 6 months

Text

Writeblr positivity tag

Thanks to @ahordeofwasps for the tag!

📝 What motivates you to write?

I don't have a fancy answer for this. I just really enjoy it and can't imagine not doing it. My head is full of stories and they need to come out.

📝 A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

The first few sentences of November Breaks always give me "Damn girl, you wrote that? (positive)" feels... A galaxy of promises is visible on a clear night. Strange how it feels like you’re looking up at something when you’re actually inside it. That’s the vastness of it, though. The illusion. Mine, yours, ours. Distant, but from within.

📝 Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

I love all of them and can't choose between my children, but if we're talking actual smiles here, it's probably Rafe from Bridge From Ashes. He veers wildly between hyperfocus and total distraction, and a lot of his little quirks and mannerisms were borrowed from my spouse.

📝 What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Line editing all the way! The story exists, the heavy lifting is done, and I get to focus on tiny details and vibes. Pure joy.

📝 What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I might be cheating here because I'm referring to things other people have said, but I've had some really beautiful compliments on how distinct my characters' voices are. It's something I used to feel a bit twitchy about, like what if I'm not differentiating between them clearly enough, but now I can look at that aspect of my work and feel like yeah, I indeed do not suck at that.

📝 What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

The endless support and encouragement. Also the depravity. You're a bunch of weirdos and I adore you.

📝 A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Does coffee count? If not, it's got to be Google Docs. I've tried a bunch of different software and I always end up coming back to gDocs.

📝 A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

All the tech in Bridge From Ashes and Project Aria either already exists, is in development, or has a solid theoretical basis for being able to exist. A wild amount of research went into that and I'm still legit horrified by some of the things I discovered.

📝 Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

I scrolled to the bottom of my following list so I could tag some of my longest-standing mutuals (and their writing is gorgeous). Bless you all for putting up with me for this long... @thegreatobsesso, @kaiusvnoir, @pertinax--loculos, @indecentpause, @diphthongsfordays, and @drabbleitout

Blank template under the cut 💜

What motivates you to write?

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

#writeblr tags #writeblr positivity tag #november breaks #bridge from ashes #project aria #my writing

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toskarin · 10 months

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Can we see the paganface OCs?

you had me digging through some OLD art to find all of them, and even then this isn't comprehensive, so keep in mind that my style's changed and grown a lot since drawing some of these lmao

give or take a few, because some have wildly different vibes and mostly just connect to pagan on the level of "there are design or personality elements here which form a trend in my characters"

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hwknshellfire · 2 years

Text

cherry garcia

pairing: billy x fem!reader

summary: you and billy are best friends. totally platonic. except you're both in love with each other. but things change when you meet an old jaded flame on an ice cream date and billy steps in to defend you

length: 2.5k (look i love soft!Billy)

warnings: mainly fluff, soft!billy, mentions of sex, mentions of abuse (billy’s dad), mentions of untoward advances (v brief), slut shaming, mild violence

based on this request: Billy x fem reader them just spending time together cruzing in his car going for like ice cream or something and running into a dude reader had a “thing with”( she was feeling him out but didn’t like his vibe so told him she didn’t wanna date him) and the dude gets mad bc she said she didn’t wanna date and tries like insulting her and Billy isn’t about that and like roughs him up a bit mainly lots of fluff

a.n: look billy defending your honour will never not be hot to me and i would write billy forever if i could. no vol2 spoilers here. set around s3 before billy is flayed

Billy’s arm is slung around your back as he drives. There’s a casualness to it that has become familiar in the few months you and Billy had been friends. You had never been majorly popular, but Billy singled you out anyway after seeing you skip class to light up a cigarette and he knew he had to know you. Little Miss Perfect, smoking? There was definitely more to you and he had been determined to find out. And he had. He learnt everything about you and somehow became your best friend. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive with his long hair and easy confidence. You knew there was a darker side to him, but you knew about his dad and you understood why he was the way he was. And all you could do was be there for him.

Which is why you never said no to going on a drive with him. It was Saturday and most of Hawkins would be out and about in town. Once upon a time, you would’ve thought Billy would be embarrassed to be seen with you. But he had never once made you feel that way. And, really, how could you not fall for him?

Especially after the look he gives you now, glancing sideways at you in his Camaro and grinning when he catches you staring. “All good, doll?” he asks, hiding the smirk.

You roll your eyes. He knew the nickname drove you mad—in more ways than one. “Peachy. Where are we off to today?”

He uses the hand behind your back to wave at the open scenery. You notice that you’re driving nowhere in particular, just anywhere Billy decides to turn. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Hmm,” you hum. The sun is going down slowly but it’s still hot out, the summer in full swing by now. The pair of you had spent the morning at the community pool, Billy working and you enjoying the view, and it had been sweltering. You swore you were still feeling the effects of spending a whole day outside, so you grin and say, “Ice cream, please.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so predictable,” he says. You give him your infamous puppy-dog eyes and soon he’s speeding up, the wind rushing through your hair and you laugh wildly. Billy’s smile widens, enjoying seeing you so happy. “Your wish is my command, doll.”

He takes the long way, stretching out the journey for as long as possible. There’s something about the way your hair is blowing in the wind and the way your eyes crinkle as you smile and sing along to whatever song was playing on his stereo (he can’t even focus when you’re looking the way you do) that makes Billy want to stay in this moment forever. You’re different from what he expected you to be. Different from everyone, really. You’re the only person in the planet who knows exactly what he is and has never once turned their back on him. And damn, if that didn’t make him want to make you his forever. If you asked him to, he’s pretty sure he’d get down on his knees for a single piece of you. He would do anything to make you happy because to him, he owes you a lifelong debt for just being there for him, for looking after him when his dad beats him, for listening to him rant and cry about anything from his dad, to Max, to school.

When he first moved to Hawkins and started classes at school, he heard about you in passing. You weren’t a popular girl, but you were a notorious A-Grade student. You were smart and funny and beautiful and deserved to be with someone like Harrington. And yet all you had done was shoot down men like Steve. You’d picked Billy as much as he’d picked you and he couldn’t believe his luck. He’s sure that one day he’ll blink and wake up and this whole friendship will have been a dream. A cruel one where it shows him exactly what he wants only to rip it away from him.

You catch him staring at you and raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should be focusing on the road?”

“Shit, yeah.” His eyes snap back to the front and he swerves to avoid a kid on a bike. You chuckle and it sends a shiver down his back. He clears his throat. “Shut up.”

You make it to the ice cream parlour as the sunsets and it feels eerily romantic as you both slide into a booth. Several people from school are around but you ignore them completely, even when they begin to whisper. Your friendship was still talked about but you never cared. Billy’s eyes dance over the groups of people looking at you and he raises a challenging eyebrow at them and they stop talking immediately. Satisfied, he turns his attention to you.

You’re already scanning the menu, unbothered by everyone else. His heart does a little flutter and he swallows thickly. “What are you going for, doll?”

Looking up, you give him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Like there’s more than one answer?”

Billy groans and rolls his eyes. “Right, how could I forget? One scoop strawberry, one scoop cherry garcia and a whole lotta sprinkles.”

You beam. “Ah, it’s like you know me so well.”

He snorts and gets up. “Who could forget such a disgusting combo?”

“It is not disgusting! Strawberry and cherry are both fruits, right? It’s not like I’m mixing, oh I don’t know, peanut butter and butter pecan!”

He points a stern finger at you. “Do not disrespect the butter-based ice cream flavours in front of me, doll. It won’t end well for you.” He’s joking but man did it make you both squirm. Not that even of you notice the other’s reaction to what he just said. Billy swallows and nods briefly at you before wandering up to the counter.

Alone at the table, you press your lips together, trying not to grin. Your eyes scan the menu again, going over and over the words but you’re not really reading them. No, you’re busy analysing every moment of your friendship. Sometimes the line between you two being friends and more blurred, but never enough for you to be sure about his feelings. You knew he’d been with plenty of girls and dated around sometimes, but he would drop any of them if you called him and asked to see him. Surely that means something coming from a guy like Billy?

At the counter, Billy repeats your orders to the kid behind the counter and then waits. He’s staring at the glass, at the tubs of ice creams, all various colours but they all just swirl into one big mess. Why had he said that to you? It won’t end well for you. That was the exact same kinda shit he’d say to a girl he was on a date with. He wasn’t on a date with you. You were just two best friends getting ice cream together after a long drive, in the same place most couples went to. But this definitely wasn’t a date. If it was, he would definitely have kissed you by now. Hell, you wouldn’t have even made it into the ice cream parlour.

“Um, sir?” Billy blinks and notices the ice cream guy staring at him, holding out two cups. He mutters his thanks and takes them, turning back around to see you—see you talking to another guy. Something deflates a little inside of him.

“Aw come on, sweetheart,” Mitch Bradshaw was saying to you, leaning over the booth so he towered over you. “I know you said no once but you don’t mean it, do you?”

“Yes, Jason,” you affirm. “I meant it. I’m not interested in you.”

“That’s not what you said the first time,” he smirks and it’s different from the way Billy smirks. This makes you uneasy. “Didn’t you enjoy our last date?”

“No,” you say bluntly. “I didn’t. You spent the whole time trying to feel me up and then got pissy when I said no. So, no, I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t like your vibe man, deal with it.”

He looks wounded then, something like anger crossing his face. “Maybe you should try it again,” he says and leans forward, his face inches from yours, his arm around your shoulders the way Billy’s had been in the car. But this isn’t Billy and it feels all wrong. “I can be quite persuasive, you know.”

Before you can react, Mitch’s body is pulled away from yours and Billy’s face appears. You breathe in relief. “Hey man,” Billy says. “You hitting on, Y/N, here? Even when she said no to you?”

“Twice,” you add.

Billy grins. “Twice,” he repeats. Mitch is a couple inches smaller than Billy but he might as well have been two feet tall. He practically shrinks under Billy’s gaze, but his male bravado gets the better of him and he tries to square up, pulling himself out of Billy’s grip. “I’m thinking,” Billy continues. “That you need to scram before I show you what happens when you insult my girl here.”

My girl. God, it should be illegal for Billy to call you that when you’re just platonic. Completely platonic. Definitely platonic.

Mitch’s eyes glance between the pair of you. He scoffs. “Whatever man, she’s all yours.”

Billy’s jaw twitches but he lets it go, watching as Mitch glances at you once more and then turns to leave, his friends waiting for him like a bunch of idiots. They walk out the door of the parlour and you relax a little. Billy sits back down, the ice cream cups in one hand. How he managed to pull Mitch away and look intimidating while holding ice cream was beyond you. A Billy miracle.

“You alright, doll?” he asks you, sliding your cup over.

You shrug. “He’s an ass,” is all you say, picking up your spoon and mixing your ice cream until you have a cherry-strawberry mash-up.

Billy wrinkles his nose at you. “I can’t believe you find that delicious.”

You snort. “I can’t believe I found Mitch delicious, once, but alas here we are.”

He throws a napkin at you and you dodge, falling into a fit of laughter. He takes a second to make sure your laughter is genuine, that you’re really okay, and then he’s laughing too, even though he’s still tense. Mitch had riled him up big time. How dare he try it on with you when you’d already turned him down? Billy was many things: an ass, a jerk—he’d heard it all. But he didn’t force himself on a girl when it wasn’t wanted. Lucky for him he was just very good at telling when a girl wanted him.

Except with you.

You spend the next half an hour chatting about everything, avoiding all the subjects that were off limits unless Billy said—his dad, Max, his mom. Once both of you have finished your ice creams and Billy checks you don’t want another round (which is honestly so tempting), the pair of you leave. It’s a tad colder by the time you walk out the parlour, the night fully settled in. You shiver involuntarily and wish you had packed a jacket. Billy notices and without a word slips his denim jacket off and around your shoulders. You snuggle in, the familiar scent of Billy’s cologne enveloping you.

You don’t notice Mitch and his friends leaning against the wall as you hook your arm into Billy’s and head for his Camaro. Not until you hear him muttering, “Damn, Y/N really gets around huh?”

Billy freezes and you tense in anticipation. “Just ignore it,” you tell him, trying to get him to move again. But he wouldn’t budge.

You hear Mitch laughing. “What a slut.”

“What did you call her?” Billy asked. He let go of your arm and turned to face Mitch and his friends. They were grinning and smirking at each other.

Mitch cocks his head. “I said what a—”

Billy surges forward and pins him against the wall before he can even get the last word out. Your hands fly to your mouth. “Billy!”

Mitch pales. His eyes are wide, terrified of Billy, who simply pushes him further back into the wall. “I said,” Billy grinds out, pure rage by now. “What. Did. You. Call. Her?” Mitch shakes his head, stammering. “N-nothing, Billy, ‘m sorry!” His friends do nothing, backing away slowly.

Billy chuckles but there’s no warmth to it. This kind of laugh was reserved for these situations. Where he was trying to hold back his anger as much as possible. “Don’t apologise to me, Bradshaw.” He indicates behind him to where you stand in Billy’s jacket, chewing your lip. “Apologise to her.”

Mitch eyes you and swallows as much as he can with Billy pinning him so hard. You’re certain he’ll leave some form of bruise on Mitch. Good, you think. Let him learn what it feels like to be intimidated and marked by a man you don’t want. You lift your head, waiting. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” Mitch says, his ego all but vanished. “Didn’t mean it.”

You cross your arms and cock your head the way Mitch had done seconds ago. “That’s alright, Mitch. You say I’m a slut yet you can’t even get any action from me. Surely that says more about you than it does about me?”

Billy licks his lips and grins, proud. Mitch, however, blushes and scrambles for words as Billy drops him. He decides against saying anything and just stalks off, his friends chasing after him. Billy turns his attention on you and cackles. “I have to say, doll, I love that wicked mouth of yours sometimes.”

Another innuendo. God, what was Billy doing to you? You look at him, and he looks at you, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. You weren’t afraid of your feelings. Not after everyone thought what they wanted to think anyway. And damn did you love Billy.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Your girl, huh?” You ask daringly, stepping closer to him until you’re nose to, well, chest. You look up at him and something dances in his eyes that you rather like the look of.

“Mm, keep teasing me, doll, and see where it gets you,” he replies darkly.

Fuck it. You wrap your arms around his neck and lean up, your lips inches from his neck as you whisper, “Maybe I want to find out.”

Billy all but groans and lifts you up, not wasting a second longer before the pair of you climb into the back of his Camaro. “Fuck, I love you, doll,” is the last thing Billy says before you’re all his, officially.

masterlist // requests

#billy #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove x yn #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things volume 2 #stranger things season 4 #st4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things headcannons #billy hargrove headcannons

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takearisk-xo · 4 months

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Your recent ask made me curious, how do you picture adult Harry? Especially in already gone? Personally I always picture Harry scruffy and with longer hair ever since i discovered blvnk’s art years ago

i have a really clear picture in my head of his facial expressions, his mannerisms, and his general appearance but i haven’t ever found a true likeness. a few of blvnk’s definitely have ~*the vibe*~

these are my two favorites 😍

…but i also have come to the conclusion that what really makes a reader connect with a character is leaving most of it up to their imagination, which means keeping the really detailed physical descriptions to myself and only giving harry a few concrete characteristics that they can build from.. i usually go with the hair, the eyes, and some sort of fleeting or lopsided smile. and in ginny’s pov i always make sure to say she is looking up at him because their height difference is wildly important to me 😆

thanks for the question!

#already gone #kiinghanalister #answered

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basuralindo · 8 months

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You'll Have Me Rise ch.16 is up!

And I finally got to properly include Cater! (he's kind of a crossover from @terrible-eel's Trey/Cater fic!)

This time it's also featuring editing by @kamikazequail, so, if you notice an overall improvement in the polish, you know who to thank!

Also, thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient this past week. It's been hellish, but you've all been great, and I'm glad to be able to pull back and put some time into something nice for a bit.

Now, I know I'm missing a few chapter notes that I wanted to mention on this, but I've been trying and failing to remember them since last night so I'm giving up for now (just leave a comment if you wanna hear my thoughts on something specific). Anyway the rest, as always, is under the cut

-Soooo about my "Kalim grew up around brutal assassination attempts and his only friend was a trained killer and overall he's just completely desensitized to graphic or spooky shit" theory? Slasher films must be more chill than his last family reunion,

-Hey so did I mention I love Cater and Lilia? This was my first time trying to write them, and I feel like it was clumsy, but I really wanted to show an outside view of Kalim and Jamil's dynamic through someone who's more familiar with modern human society. I feel like anyone observing these guys interact is eventually gonna experience that skincrawling dread of "something is not okay at home"

-Also yeah I imagine Jamil having the most deeply uncomfortable vibes once he's in his own environment. Like, the housewarden chambers is where he doesn't usually have to perform and mask for other people the same way, so once he drops the act a bit there's gotta be some sinister, angry detached shit under it all. Not to mention all the hostile magic woven into the area to protect Kalim. Kalim, of course, is desensitized to all this because that's just what his lifelong friend feels like. It's probably cozy

-Oh? The scarabia duo starting to develop wildly different english dialects as they spend more time with people of their choosing instead of assigned company? Big time side agenda to show an immediately perceivable metric of them growing into themselves separate of each other as time goes on? Couldn't be

-Speaking of language: I think I've mentioned before that Jamil allows himself to admit ignorance and ask questions to Azul more, because Azul always takes him seriously and doesn't try to embarrass him for not knowing a word or phrase. There's trust and respect there. With Cater he's also asking more questions because he knows Cater has been helping to tutor Kalim with some decent success, and is willing to test the waters a bit. Partially because he can barely keep up with Cater's lingo and is treating it like learning a new dialect, which he knows he'll need some help figuring out.

-Notes on their speech: Jamil focuses a little obsessively on impeccable grammar, vocab, and pronunciation in the hopes of not giving anyone more material to criticize him. He struggles more with casual lingo and slangs because of this (and not socializing much in general), and is afraid to fuck up at contractions so he tends to drop them when stressed/flustered or over text (some are easier than others, like I'm and it's vs don't and won't). Since he mostly learns from Azul lately, his speech skews even more towards formal and anachronistic. Kalim isn't that concerned with accuracy. He likes to socialize and starts up casual conversation easily, so he picks up a lot more slangs and dialectical quirks but doesn't apply himself to learning "proper" english much. He's able to navigate casual conversation well, but often fucks up at unfamiliar vocab and grammar rules, and doesn't sweat correct use of things like conjunctions so long as he can get the general point across. Cater helps him out a lot, so he picks up a lot of Cater's terminology and cadence and ends up sounding much more modern than Jamil. So, their differences in speech aren't a matter of intellect, just a difference in learning style and social values.

-So, Cater's supposed to be from the shaftlands, and his Halloween vignette mentioned moving a lot and never really fitting in, so I'm choosing to believe that he moved to the queendom of roses as a kid and had to transfer around there a bunch growing up.

-Headcanon that, because there weren't a lot of mages around the palace, and even less who would spare time to teach a servant, Jamil is mostly self taught. The result of that being a lot of kinda juryrigged practical spells that, once mastered, ended up being modified in various ways for whatever needs they could apply to. The things that weren't so self taught were mostly curses and assassin techniques passed down through his family, which also got modified over time for practicality and protecting Kalim. So a lot of his magic just feels immensely uncomfortable, like protection wards that are actually modified curses and shit like that. The rest is just very noticeably different from standard teaching, and of course Jamil doesn't want anyone to know he's invented so many of his own spells, so he downplays and straight up lies about it if asked

-Writing from Cater's perspective was a lot harder than I expected, but I really like him and wanted more of him in the story. And again, an outside perspective on this whole situation is much needed imo. Just, let someone actually look at Jamil and see that he hasn't gotten to be young yet

-The whispers movie is a reference to the Suspiria remake. The way dance is used for spells in that partially inspired Jamil's sandstorm dance in the first chapter, and it seemed like something he'd like

-Anyone: "Don't worry about it." Jamil: *Worry intensifies*

-Cater is out here holding the emotional intelligence and basic social skills of the entire school together. There wasn't a lot to go around, but he's making it work.

-I love the idea of like, between the preferential treatment and Jamil's own warped standards, his description of the octatrio and their merits being completely unrecognizable to the rest of the school. I don't think Cater would have been so encouraging if he knew who he was encouraging Jamil to give the benefit of a doubt to.

-Headcanon slightly supported by actual canon: I think Floyd has a relatively photographic memory, and he shows affection by taking note of the things that make people light up, and supporting those hobbies/interests with little relevant gifts, or just encouraging them to explore and talk about it and listening to them infodump. If it's particularly important to them he'll learn up on it enough to hold a real conversation. Since Azul and especially Jade are the type to get really deeply invested in every little detail of an interest, and he sees that Jamil seems to happily talk to both of them about that kind of thing, he figures there's a good chance Jamil would enjoy being bombarded with informative material and the like too.

-Since I'm bringing up Floyd's love language, I might as well add that I think Azul would deeply investigate to determine what someone might want from him, then try to provide it at a level above and beyond all expectations (partially driven by an obsession with proving his worth. potentially disastrous results when he misjudges what was actually wanted). Jade would give little gifts of things that a) he thinks they'd like, b) he wants to see how they'll react to, and/or c) he wants them to have because he likes the idea or aesthetic of it for them. These almost never include things they actually ask for, because it's more fun to experiment than just do something with guaranteed results. And he'd gift an overwhelming amount of these little things constantly, half because he gets a thrill out of seeing the reactions, and half because he wants the recipient to always feel the presence of his affection.

-Jamil, meanwhile, would probably show care through acts of service because it's all he knows so far (this may change over time as he heals). His hate language would be malicious compliance.

-Okay so I think Cater is absolute drunk aunt friend? I think he compulsively adopts people and drags everyone else into it and makes a whole project of helping them, and then ditches out for several weeks to have his own secret crisis. Then he pulls himself together and comes back chipper and doubles down on the project to keep his mind off of his issues because if everyone else is happy then he can fake it till he makes it. ��I also think Riddle's overblot was a little traumatic and the idea of another one happening is freaking him out.

#yhmr fic #twst you'll have me rise you'll have me fall #chapter update #chapter babble #twst #octaviper #ashenviper #floyd x jamil #jade x jamil #azul x jamil

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verdantrivers · 1 year

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jgy and/or lxc 👀

oh babe we’re going to be getting into it bc these two give me so many brainworms.

jgy first!

a song that reminds me of them: everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears

what they smell like: fresh and pleasant, not overpowering, maybe a hint of floral oils

an otp: xiyao for sure but i’m also deep in chengyao hell

a notp: nieyao and 3zun does nothing for me. I don’t hate it, I’m just deeply ambivalent about it.

favorite platonic/familial relationships: this is a tough call between meng shi and jin ling. I also think these are the two relationships in his life where his feelings are (relatively) uncomplicated. I’m particularly tickled by how much he likes to spoil Jin Ling because he never got to be spoiled like that as a kid.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: oh there are so many. so so so many wildly bad takes about jgy that i’m just going to lump them into one category i call “Someone Gave Sect Leader Yao Internet Access”. Basically i dislike headcanons that tend to attribute a lot more awful stuff to his Schemes, or speculate on there being more malice to his motivations than was actually there. It flattens the character into a two-dimensional villain, and removes a great deal of ambiguity around his actions and motives.

the position they sleep in: on his back like a proper gentleman! (but if he’s alone he’s curled up like a kitten)

a crossover au i’d love to see them in: a song of ice and fire, don’t @ me he’d get so far. but honestly there are just. so many.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: that little number with the baby blue outer robe i see what’s happening there >:3c

now for lxc:

a song that reminds me of them: life on mars - david bowie look it’s like one of the few i have with lyrics almost all of his playlist is instrumentals and melancholy women on pianos

what they smell like: fresh and crisp, like newly fallen snow

an otp: xiyao

a notp: literally anything else involving him, but xisang turns my stomach. Xicheng just grates on my nerves because it’s popularity is so bizarre to me.

favorite platonic/familial relationships: oh his relationship with wangji for sure. for all i harp on wangji for not even like, checking on xichen after Guanyin Temple, i think they have one of the most loving relationships in the series. i also really enjoy his relationship with Lan Qiren, and his Very Complicated Feelings about his parents. I also have a lot of thoughts about how he feels towards nhs pre and post Guanyin Temple.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: save me from himbo!xichen headcanons, christ on a fucking bike, nothing makes me want to chew glass more. i also really don’t like headcanons that tend to diminish his closeness with either jgy or wangji. i don’t dismiss dark!xichen headcanons out of hand, but there’s only a few i actually vibe with.

the position they sleep in: he starts on his back but i think he rolls over on to his side in his sleep and cuddles his blankets.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in: dark!xichen au in the hellraiser universe /grabbyhands

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: the dark blue number when he and jgy eyefucked right in front of nmj and his salad.

Bonus Xiyao:

a song that reminds me of them: last snowfall - vienna teng

what they smell like: each other :3c

an otp: them

a notp: anyone else.

favorite platonic/familial relationships: all the salads they eyefuck in front of, they are in the running for most people annoyed by their nonsense

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: that jgy and xichen don’t love each other. the drama and the donghua beg to differ - the xiyao agenda is real

the position they sleep in: wrapped lovingly in each other’s arms until xichen gets too hot and then it’s him on top of the blankets with jgy bundled up and using his enormous Lan Naturals as a pillow.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in: beauty and the beast au bc i’m predictable af

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: their wedding attire, shut up they’re married and Fine.

#sword wizard nonsense #jin guangyao #lan xichen #xiyao

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arcxnumvitae · 7 months

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He at least had Aro at his side for the dinner at Huaxiu's home, as awkward an occasion as it was for the dragon. He had exchanged little more than the required greetings towards Jianhuren and Huaxiu before he busied himself with chatting with the others. They each looked as if they wished to speak with him, with two wildly differing vibes to it, but it seemed that the common, silent consensus between the three of them was to refrain from doing so. At least not during the Mid-Autumn dinner. Zhaohui pretended not to notice the few moments that each spoke quietly with Aro.

The dinner went much the same way. The others likely noticed that Zhaohui didn't go after Huaxiu and tease him with the same frequency as usual, but he didn't care. So long as he got through the dinner just fine. Until Huaxiu rolled his eye in response to some small jab of Zhaohui's, and the dragon's own tone got sharper in turn, his smile daring.

He could only imagine the way that Aro might have been tensing up beside him at the sudden shift in mood, but he paid little mind to it. His eyes were fixed squarely on Huaxiu.

"Is our venerated little emperor beyond even jests now?" Red eyes narrowed with the man's growing smile. "A single teasing comment and you're already so wound up."

Huaxiu grit his teeth. "Don't act like this entire thing is about a single comment, Zhaohui. You clearly have some sort of baggage, some vendetta against me, and yet I'm the one not allowed to speak on it while you make your quips and jokes? It would be different if they were good-natured and made in good-faith," his eye narrowed, "but we both know they aren't."

"Don't." Zhaohui warned, his smile dropping.

"It's abundantly obvious that all they've ever been is some childish attempt to 'get back at me', to grant yourself some small semblance of pleasure at lashing out at me. Well go on. Take your shot now."

Zhaohui rose to his feet with a sharp glower on his face, heedless of Aro beside him and of the shocked faces of the other three dragons. An acrid venom spread through his chest.

Huaxiu continued as he rose as well, "Because you clearly blame me for things well beyond my control. This grudge you hold against me for things that happened before I even existed, things that you blame me for. We all dance around it, Shifu was kind enough to never say it to your face, but it is obvious, Zhaohui, that you're jealous of me when it was mistakes that you made--"

A flashing gleam of metal swung through the air before the man could finish speaking and only at the last second was he able to summon his own sword and block the strike of Zhaohui's attack. Gasps spread from the others, Meihui and Xiaodan also raising to their feet, but the two paid them no mind. Zhaohui pressed on towards Huaxiu, dishes upended in the flurry of his attack as their steps took them towards the outer door towards the main courtyard where the moon shone above.

"One dinner, just one dinner," Zhaohui growled in a mix of laughter and aggravation, "and yet--!"

Huaxiu held up against the assault, giving as well as he received, but only barely. "It has been countless dinners, countless gatherings! Yet you insist on simmering in your hatred, doling out your venom to me here or there in ways that satisfy you. Yet I am the one in the wrong for finally calling you out?"

Another strike narrowly missed Huaxiu. "Fine!" Zhaohui laughed aloud with his eyes alight with anger. "You now get what you always wanted. I'm finally the villain making the big scene and attacking you! Is that what you wanted? To finally be right?"

Huaxiu opened his mouth to respond, but another voice cut in.

"STOP IT!" Huaxiu froze immediately at Minglian's voice, and his head whipped over to the young, seething dragon from where she had yelled at the both of them. Yet in Huaxiu's moment of distraction, the force of Zhaohui's last thrust continued upwards before he could stop it--

And with a sickening sound of enchanted metal tearing through flesh, Zhaohui's blade sprouted from Huaxiu's back-- straight through the other dragon's heart.

Everything stopped in one horribly long second of silence. A silence that was broken by Minglian's scream. Zhaohui's eyes widened, his hand releasing his sword just as Huaxiu collapsed to the ground before him. The sound of footsteps rushing towards them rang faintly in the dragon's ears as he watched the others crowd around Huaxiu, yet one, tearful voice stood out among the growing clamor.

"Zhao-ge, what did you do?!"

Stunned, Zhaohui met Aro's gaze, holding it for only a second before his fell with shame. Without another word, Zhaohui turned and took off from Huaxiu's estate, shifting before he flew off into the night.

#{Zhaohui Drabble #{Huaxiu Drabble #{Jianhuren Drabble #{Meihui Drabble #{Minglian Drabble #don't you just love big family dinners?

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