#listen i know they're not all in chronological order but that's the point okay bc the . the would you take care of me thing needs to be last | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxstens · 9 months

Text

hnfhgnfg gonna talk about rain world some more

i'm listening to this guided tour video about downpour and i'm not liking the opinions in there therefore i must talk.

apparently the crafting tutorial ruins the game bc it shows that gourmand has knowledge you don't. and then the ending does the same bc it's not a surprise to him but it is to you. uhhhhh okay? but you can't really compare gourmand's campaign or personality with survivor since they're completely different therefore they of course have different goals and different knowledge

gourmand is a grown slugcat i guess, he came on an adventure from journey's end, with the intention of going back, but it's not like he's suddenly born in shaded citadel when you start his campaign lol. he probably learned crafting back home or on his way to shaded, but yea. we don't start at the start of his journey

whereas we survivor we kind of do. presumably they get washed down through facility roots and then end up in that room in outskirts, so they have no idea wtf is going on or where they are or what's waiting for them - kinda the opposite of gourmand's situation. i'd argue even the survivor has more knowledge than the player does since they probably know what they can eat due to, you know, having lived in this world until now. which the player doesn't know until the game tells you. but whatever.

anyway the point of gourmand's campaign is to be kind of a sequel to hunter and a prequel to survivor and monk, to show more of the slugcats - where they came from, how they live and all that, and to show gourmand, one of two characters in the entire story who refute the idea of ascension - the other being best boy undegrowth echo. i can see why you'd dislike that if youre so attached to the base game's message but i like seeing more sides represented in the story. in that case you should also dislike hunter's campaign since it does the same thing but eh.

i'm also expecting this person to dislike arti, spearmaster, and rivulet as well since they, too, have a completely different purpose, but i personally don't agree. like would you rather have 5 additional campaigns with the same message and same structure rather than what we actually got, which imo adds so much more to the lore and makes the message so so so so much more complex.

as a sidenote i 100% think that gourmand - spearmaster - rivulet - saint is the best order to play the downpour slugcats, with arti wherever but preferably after all of them. this is bc playing arti before spearmaster spoils most of the world changes except for moon but playing the two back to back can get a lil stale world-wise. gourmand forces you to learn so much about the game and can be a great intro to more combat-focused slugcats if you didn't play hunter previously, whereas arti might be a bit too difficult to play as the first downpour slugcat. the order above probably makes spearmaster the best experience it can be while also being a very interesting experience lore-wise especially on your first playthrough since you can't and shouldn't do them chronologically. also doing riv after spearmaster makes submerged superstructure and even bitter aerie much more poignant imo.

this person keeps going on about immersion and currently about how arti has different motivations than the player, which. okay. if you want the exact same experience as survivor then just play that jfc. it's the freaking self-insert vs full-fledged protagonist argument but with different words and im not here for it. survivor was one experience the other scugs are completely different, get the fuck over it ugh. personally as memorable as my first survivor run was it was only that because of the world, the lore, the creatures, but not at all bc of the scug since survivor is as bland as you can get

whereas the downpour scugs i can actually rank based on how much i like them personality/movement/motivations-wise, and i very much appreciate that. but that might be partly bc i hate self-inserting and because i was more interested in the lore and the overarching story as opposed to the survival-sim from the very beginning.

aaaaaaand now they say the campaigns feel the same, like the worlds as arti or gourmand aren't different enough. i'm not even gonna say anything, i just 1000000% disagree.

on a sidenote why do people not go to moon first??? sure in survivor there might not be much of a point to doing that and as hunter it's no the most optimal path but to me that's the best path. go to moon, then to pebbles, then go back to moon or ascend depending on who you're playing as. as riv making the trekk from shaded to pebbles is an amazing experience, and if you're smart and went to moon first, you can just passage back there after you get the cell. as spearmaster you'll be missing out on a lot of things if you don't go to moon first, and once again if you're smart you can just passage there. as saint the routing can be a bit more flexible but it goes very smoothly like this. oh i keep forgetting that a lot of people hate going through underhang and five pebbles... and then they wonder if they're missing out on stuff, especially on a first playthrough.... oh well, their loss :')

and now they say - bitter aerie is difficult to access as other characters and doesn't connect to other regions, therefore it ends up feeling like a story section. which apparently is bad, for some reason. okay? but it's fun. and the same could be said submerged superstructure aka one of the best area in the entire game, so should that not exist bc of this or what? this could be said for so many regions and subregions i really don't get it lmao.

oh my god while i respect this video for the effort put into it so much of it sees the game through such a game and gameplay-focused lens which imo is the wrong mindset. idk how they ended up liking survivor with this mindset but eh whatever.

hahahaha the radio broadcasts are bad bc they pause the game and 'tell' you things :) i have nothing to saaaaaaaay hearing other opinions should be fun but this isn't when i so vehemently disagree, and not just on a conceptual level but because the things this person doesn't like made the game so much more fun and emotional for me. i cried the most during spearmaster despite having been spoiled about everything previously. and now they're shitting on my favourite food aka the gooieducks. this video was made to piss me off wasn't it lmao.

well, at the very least it seems they liked saint. but did not figure out that the tongue is much better than a grapple worm hah. OH AND NOW APPARENTLY THE BEST ECHO IS ALSO A HYPOCRITE. i mean this person did say they're not one to speculate on the lore which explains some things but not all ancients ascended successfully or willingly, it says so somewhere so like.

'rain world was a machine built for survivor's journey' what the fuck is this. where the fuck does hunter fit into that. where does monk fit into that. what the heck. the lore existed way before downpour wtf is thissssssss lmao i've never heard a worse take. IF YOU LIKE SURVIVOR THAT MUCH JUST PLAY THAT UGHHHHHHH.

but like i keep saying and preaching and saying, this game is a sad post-utopic sci-fi story with buddhist elements masquerading as a rat in manhattan sim, not the other way around. oh but they don't even mention buddhism in this 2 hr long video so idk what im expecting. and its not like you have to be an expert in buddhism to see it, i know barely anything about it and even i saw it. oh. but according to this person the lore has no inherent value. me and this person are on actually opposing wavelengths lmao. anyway i guess there's people out there with these opinions. cool. i am now tired.

now for some positive closing thoughts, i wanna make a tier list of the slugcats. i've been thinking about it for a long time and i think i have a definitive list, at least for now.

s tier: spearmaster, gourmand

a tier: rivulet, saint

b tier: survivor

c tier: artificer,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, hunter

you'd think riv would also be s tier but i just love gourmand os much and with riv i'm zooming all over the place which is extremely fun and riv is extremely adorable and i love her but... the chonk is so powerful... idk i just love playing as gourmand i love his story i love his mechanics i love love love him

yea i know i said survivor is the blandest but they were still my introduction and they're probably the best to play as for a lot of general stuff, and i just like them more than the other two eh.

as for arti, i really like her story i really really like it and metropolis is hnfhgnf but i don't like explosives and i don't like fighting scavs, therefore im gonna have to use a mod to even get through her campaign. as for hunter, i like the lore and i love pebbles in their campaign but so hard. and honestly the most boring combat scug...

#my posts #gameblogging #liveblogging rain world #read more #long post #lmao this got so long

1 note · View note

fbfh · 2 years

Text

prolonged bisexual panic - steve harrington x fem reader x billy hargrove

genre: angsty bisexual pining + smut

wc: 5k

pairing: steve x fem reader, billy wants to be in the middle, background jonathan x nancy

warnings: everyone's beat up after an ambiguous monster fight, billy has a lot of self loathing and internalized issues, you kiss billy thinking he's steve cause you're half asleep, billy is actually a good brother and not abusive in this, billy has to come to terms with the fact that he's bi and in love with you and steve, morning wood, dream that takes place in a hospital, jacking off in the shower, billy thinks about you and steve while jacking off in the shower, did I mention boners enough yet, billy cries like twice because you're both nice to him, you call yourself mommy as a joke, let me know if I missed anything I don't have any braincells rn

spoilers: billy and max (cause they're introduced in season 2), brief mention of ambiguous monsters and monster slime

summary: caught between you and steve the night after a battle, billy has nowhere to run from the warmth he feels around you two. he doesn't want to admit how badly he wants to be with both of you because he obviously doesn't stand a chance, but he doesn't really have another option at this point.

music rec: i actually made a playlist this time!! you can listen to it on shuffle if you want but it's in chronological order w the plot yk it's only a few songs so I can link them here too

arms tonight - mother mother, water fountain - alec benjamin, caught in the middle - paramore, i/me/myself - will wood, verbatim - mother mother, sudden desire - hayley williams, bizarre love triangle - new order

a/n: why did the writers do billy so dirty.... I could have made sure he was okay.... "i can fix him" yeah well I can add him to my f/o list

also I'm about to start season 3 so no spoilers lol

also also I feel like this is probs some of my best work so far so PLS let me know!!!! give me feedback and validation!!!! rant to me on anon!!!! I wanna hear it you can not possibly annoy me bc I'M the annoying one!!!!! <33

ALSO I've decided to be that bitch and start including outfits in fics again so enjoy this and follow my shoplook!!

as with all nsfw works, all participating characters (steve, billy, and reader) are aged up to 18+, minors obviously dni <3

One benefit of Steve’s parents barely ever being home is that when shit hits the fan, and you’re up late into the night fighting interdimensional monsters, everyone can crash at his place, no questions asked. The older kids - you, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Billy - had gotten everyone over to Steve’s place, ordered some pizza, and set up movies and a giant pillow fort in the living room for the younger kids in hopes that it would help them sleep, and gotten to bed yourselves before three in the morning. It doesn’t sound like much, but after the night you’ve all had, you’ll consider it a victory. You told them more times than you can count, if they need anything you’ll all be right upstairs, wake someone up if you need anything. Jonathan and Nancy had taken the guest room, for obvious reasons, leaving you, Billy, and Steve to crash in Steve’s (in your opinion, garishly plaid) room.

Asleep on your feet, getting ready for bed through nothing more than muscle memory, you and Steve peel off your superfluous layers, leaving you in a baggy tee shirt and sweatpants respectively, and fall into bed without a second thought, asleep within minutes. Neither of you notice the compromising position you’re in, or the intimate touches and soft breathy kisses you share out of habit.

Billy, however, does notice. Mainly because as you fell into bed with each other, he got caught in the middle. He was half asleep minutes ago, but he’s definitely awake now. He barely had time to pull off his jeans, much less put on the pajama pants Steve had tossed at him, so clad in nothing more than boxers and a tank top, you and Steve press your forms into his. Part of him wishes he'd left his jeans on, but with your hand already slipping under his shirt and Steve’s on his thigh, he doesn’t think it would have made much difference.

Steve’s arm is under Billy's head, face in his hair, his other hand sleepily caressing Billy's thigh, sending heat to his core. Warmth radiates off his bare chest, and Billy feels a part of him that was always a little annoyed that Steve was never on the skins team during basketball, one he never let himself acknowledge, flood with catharsis. Curiosity, he always told himself, a type of curiosity only satisfied by locker rooms and… whatever situation he finds himself in now.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, and he lets out a quiet, breathy sigh. He can't stop himself from resting his hand on the dip of your waist. Your shirt riding up from the curve of your hip, his hands seem to move on their own, brushing up and down your waist. He finds a subtle indent on your hip where the elastic of your underwear rests, and he traces the soft material, digging in his heels as his mind wanders places he knows it shouldn’t go.

Laying between you, touching and cuddling you both is such a bizarre sensation; as campy as it may sound, he truly never thought he’d be close to both of you like this. There’s no doubt that he’s wanted to be, desperately, for some time, but he’d always written it off as another self destructive pipe dream.

He’d tried earlier today. He really did. You had just finished patching up and settling down the kids, and were passing around first aid kits to the older siblings. One was given to Jonathan and Nancy, one to Billy, and you and Steve had used the supplies in the bathroom. He had lurked outside the bathroom door, trying to work up the nerve to join you, even just existing separately in the same space would have been enough.

He watched you two through the bathroom door, with you standing in between Steve’s legs while his hands skimmed up and down your hips, finally resting on the small of your back. Your hand under his chin, guiding his face around, you assessed his injuries. He’d gotten away with just a black eye and a busted lip, as he always seems to, and you dabbed at the skin gently with a cotton ball. Steve winced slightly at the sting, and Billy could just make out your voices, quietly floating to the doorway.

“Y’know,” Steve started, “I think I’m gonna need a lot of get better kisses to recover from this one,” he trailed off, pulling you closer to him. He just had to walk in the room. Just enter, and make conversation, and keep doing what he was doing before.

“Woah, tiger,” you said with a laugh as he leaned in, grabbing antiseptic cream from the counter, “you won’t be able to kiss anyone if you don’t let me fix your lip.”

You patted his chest, readjusting his face to get a better look. Steve’s eyes got a dreamy sort of look to them, and in that moment, anyone in the room could feel how profound and tangible his love for you is.

He couldn't do it.

Breath pulled from his lungs, Billy returned to Steve’s room, your laughter echoing down the hall at something one of you had said. Misery seemed to pump from his heart through his veins, spreading throughout his entire body.

Now he doesn’t have to wonder what your hands would feel like on his chest, or what Steve’s arms would be like loosely wrapped around him. He doesn’t have to wonder what your shampoo would smell like, or what Steve’s sleepy sighs feel like against his skin. Now, lying here with you, both of you, it’s surreal how fast the tides have turned, how fast that deep resounding sadness has turned into overwhelming warmth and fulfillment. Even if it doesn’t mean anything by sunrise, he knows it will to him.

Even still, he feels like he's being torn apart. At this point, he can’t deny how badly he wants this, how he'll take any scraps of attention, or even passive inclusion, you and Steve might throw him, but for reasons infuriatingly beyond his understanding, his instincts keep telling him to run. That this warmth he's feeling is too much and he'll get burned, or worse, accustomed to it, never able to survive in the inevitable coldness of solitude again. And then what? He just curls up and dies? He lets out an irritated sigh. Frustration, many kinds of it, continues to build.

He squeezes his eyes shut, blinking heavily as he tries to stay awake. He can’t dwell on that distress, as much as he might like to; every breath, every touch of your skin on his, the warmth radiating off of you and onto him keeps him painstakingly in the present. Touching both of you like this, soft and gentle, is so intense, a strange sort of high he’s never felt anywhere else. His long building panic begins to plateau, as he settles into the unwavering sensation of being between you like this. He finds himself blinking more and opening his eyes less, your comforting touches and his prior exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to risk the miniscule chance that something might happen, and he would sleep through it. He feels you moving, heart in his throat, looking at you nervously. He doesn’t want you to wake up and be disgusted at being so close to him. You’re so kind to everyone, he knows you’d never say that, but he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he’d made you feel that way.

But you don’t wake up. You stretch, arms and legs elongating, your hand getting dangerously close to his hips, before settling back into a comfortable position. Your hips rock against his thigh a few times as you get comfortable, and he bites his lip, trying desperately not to make any noise. Your hand, no longer resting on the bare skin of his stomach, grabs onto the collar of his shirt, pulling it gently. And it stays like that. There you are again, Steve’s breath ghosting steadily over his face, you pressed into his side. In this new position, he can feel the soft flesh of your chest against his.

It’s too much. He wants to get up and leave, and he wants to stay here forever, leaning into this newfound warmth, but he does nothing. He lays there, paralized, choking on conflict. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing growing ragged as he tries to calm himself, stay in control of his emotions. He’s really glad you’re both sound asleep and not awake to see the stray tears that slip down his cheeks.

He feels you stir again, and tries to force his breathing to slow down. Your hand leaves his chest, and rises softly to his cheek. He flinches slightly as you brush away the tears rolling down his face with the most gentle touch he thinks he’s ever felt in his life. A new wave of deep sadness hits, the tenderness of your gesture making him want to cry more. You shift, pressing a soft, sleepy kiss to his formerly tear stained cheeks. The feeling amplifies.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur in his ear, emulating nothing but pure love and warmth, “I’ve got you, you’re okay…” You continue pressing soft kisses into the side of his face and neck, hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest and stomach.

“You’re okay Stevie.”

In spite of the reassuring tone of your voice, he thinks being split open and gutted with a cleaver would hurt less. He stares at the ceiling, your touch hypnotic.

“I love you.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss into his jaw. “You’re just… the sweetest person, and I love you so much…”

Slowly, turning his head toward yours, he watches your silhouette in the dark room, moonlight illuminating everything in a surreal, blue cast. Slowly, tenderly, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hum in approval, pace of your hand on his chest and stomach slowing down. He begins to get caught up in the soothing, hypnotic current of your movements, unaware that he’s even closed his eyes.

He soon finds himself in an uncomfortable plastic chair along the hall of a hospital. He’s filled with a visceral sense of disgust and sickening dread. He’s waiting, stuck stagnant on news that may or may not come. A hand comes up, and he recognizes it as Steve’s. He gently guides Billy’s head to the side, resting on his shoulder, arm around him. His free hand rests on Billy’s leg, and Billy places his own shaking hand on top of it. Soon after your hand covers his, thumb rubbing his skin reassuringly. Your free arm wraps loosely around his waist as you sit curled up in the seat next to him, resting your head on his chest.

And you stay like that.

As doctors and nurses and hospital staff rush around, completely ignoring him, he waits. He’s still full of that sickening, miserable, cold feeling, but you and Steve are completely unshaken, unbothered; still, but not stagnant. The waiting, not even bothering to beg doctors and nurses for any kind of information because he knows they won’t give him anything, is still horrible, but with you and Steve here, beacons of peace and tranquility, it’s enough to take the edge off. Enough to make it bearable. He’s not sure what happens next, as his consciousness is pulled quickly back to a waking state.

His head is turned away from you, resting on Harrington’s arm, his eyes damp again. He’s awake, Billy realizes, from the comforting shushing noises he’s making.

“It’s okay, I’m right here baby…” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, and presses a kiss to the top of Billy’s head.

“You know I love you, right?”

His words hang in the air.

Billy nods slowly in confirmation. Just to make sure he doesn’t wake up, he tells himself, nothing to do with how much time he’s spent avoiding imagining what a love confession from Harrington would be like. Even he can see how thinly veiled that load of bullshit is.

“Cause I do.” Harrington says, breaking the late night silence once again, “I love you lots.”

There might have been more, but he’s asleep again within moments. It’s not what he thought it would be like, not even close - even his wildest fantasies never would have placed him in this situation - but he’ll take what he can get. He feels his breathing fall in line with yours and Steves, eyes blinking slower and slower.

His mind is awake before his eyes open. All of the muscles in his body are relaxed, and he’s so warm. He’s hit with the distinct, resounding feeling that something really, really good has happened, but he shouldn’t question what it is, or it will just disappear from his grasp. If he plays his cards exactly right, and doesn’t move too fast, he won’t break this beautiful delicate thing he’s been given.

Someone moves behind him, and his eyes open. Your face is barely an inch away from his, his arm slung over your waist. One of your legs rests between his, his dick rock hard and cushioned by your soft thigh. Steve shifts behind him, letting out a sigh that fans over Billy’s neck as he wakes up. Face flushing, Billy realizes that he can feel Steve, who has the same problem, hard and right up against him.

You stretch, and sit up, turning to face them. As if you couldn’t get any sweeter, you very politely ignore the fact that Billy was practically just grinding into your thigh.

“Morning,” you yawn, and his chest squeezes. How are you so fucking cute? Steve rolls over, either not noticing or not caring that he’d just had his dick up against Billy’s ass. Billy’s not sure which is worse. He picks up the clock on the nightstand.

“What time is it?” he says, still obviously groggy. His hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed from sleep.

“God, I don’t even know,” you say with another stretch, your shirt riding up and exposing your hips and waist. He can handle this, he can just be normal. Act like nothing weird happened. You let out the softest, breathy little moan when you stretch.

“Last night was really something, huh?” You ask rhetorically, with the jovial, almost conspiratory look you get from sharing an inside joke or a secret with someone. Billy’s heart is pounding. He looks over at Steve, who looks between you two with the same look.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. He wonders if this is it, if… he doesn’t know what would finally happen. He just knows he’ll say yes if it’s with you two. Steve continues.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many monsters in one place.”

Right.

The big event that happened last night was fighting a horde of monsters, not three people sharing a bed. He stands up abruptly, his flight response going into overdrive now that he’s not at risk of waking you up.

“I’m going to take a shower.” he says, quickly making his way to the door.

“Yeah,” Steve starts, “the bathroom’s right down the-”

He’s out the door before Steve can finish. A few feet down the hall, he hesitates, and circles back to Steve’s door, hearing your voices faintly through the small opening.

“I know, I did too! You’d think we’d be up all night from the adrenaline, but I was out like a light.”

“Yeah, maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often…”

A fresh wave of heat hits his cheeks, and his cock is straining against his underwear. He rushes to the bathroom and closes the door firmly.

Maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often. You don’t say shit like that unless you’re into someone, right? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t completely delusional about how he felt last night. If you didn’t want to be with him, you would have hated waking up next to him, right? God, he wants to be with you so fucking much.

He looks over at the sink and remembers you patching up Steve. He braces himself against the wall with one arm, imagining Harrington's arms around his waist. He mimes tilting Steve's head back, tending to his injuries. He can almost hear his voice asking him for get better kisses, his tone cocky in a way that makes a wistful smile ghost over his face. He sits on the closed toilet, head tilted back like Steve's had been, and imagines your soft, caring touch. He wonders what little nicknames you’d come up with for him… maybe cowboy, or hot shot. He lets out a weepy, yearning laugh rubbing his hands over his face. Whatever it is, it would sound so cute coming from you. It always does. He wonders if you’d pat his chest like you did with Harrington, or maybe run your hand through his hair a few times.

He tries to catch his breath but memories from last night won’t stop replaying in his head, and he finds himself touching all the places you did last night. His hand grips the collar of his shirt, mimicking yours, fingers trail along his thigh like Steve's did.

"You know I love you, right?"

He's palming himself, hand already sticky with precum, almost poking out of his boxers. Steve's voice echoes in his head and he feels you kissing tears off his face.

"Cause I do. I love you lots." Your hands rub soothing circles on his chest and stomach, his pace increases… He's still there mentally, lying between you, perfume and cologne mixing and mingling into something completely intoxicating that he doesn't want to stop breathing, even if he's getting high off it and- Jesus Christ, he has to get rid of this morning wood right now.

He turns the water on hot; he gave up on cold showers a while ago. They don't help him, not when it's you two he's thinking about. He strokes himself as he peels off his clothes, frustrated and desperate and heavy. He steps into the hot water, wishing his hands were yours… or maybe your mouth. Maybe Steve’s hands... your hands, Steve's mouth?

Any of it.

All of it.

He throws his head back against the tiles, cool in contrast with the water so hot it's already making his skin pink. He can't fight his mind for much longer, can't stop the torrent of images and desires, imagined touch ghosting over his skin. He pants, breath heavy with lust and steam in the air. He wishes something would happen, wishes you'd have the sudden desire to break down the door and join him. He wishes you'd barge in together, one shoving their tongue down his throat, the other sucking hickeys into his neck. He increases his pace, finally getting somewhere.

You would bang on the door before entering, tear off your clothes and squeeze into the tight space with him, because…

“Because we can’t keep our hands off you,” he imagines your voice, so breathy and cute and close to him. Your hands would touch him all over, quickly making their way to his cock.

“Besides, do we need a reason?” Harrington would ask from behind, caging you both in with his strong arms, his lips dangerously close to Billy’s ear.

God, he wants you so bad, wants your cute little body pressed up against him, wants to feel Harrington’s hands grope him, going down, down, down… he wonders if he could actually have sex with you, both of you, or if it would be too much for him.

“I guess we’ll just have to practice,” you’d say, hands in his hair, pulling him down into an open mouthed kiss.

“We’ll have you trained up in no time,” Steve would murmur into his neck before sucking another hickey. What he wouldn’t give for you to ravage his body, have your way with him. He knows he’d love it too. He never thought of himself as submissive before but…

His mind continues to wander.

Harrington, he realizes, he’s seen naked before, in the locker room. A shameful heat rises to his cheeks as he recalls every carefully stored memory, every carefully defined muscle. He can picture him here now, hair wet, strong arms glistening, hand grabbing Billy’s chin. He’d run his thumb over Billy’s lips with that fiery look in his eyes he only gets when something is really important.

You, however… he’s never seen you like that. His imagination takes off running, thinking back to how you felt pressed up against him, the soft skin of your bare legs rubbing against his.

He slides down the wall of the shower slowly, growing closer. He wonders what you’d feel like in his hands, in his arms, for real this time. He’d slide down the shower wall like he is now, you coming down with him. You’d straddle his hips, body soft in front of him against the hard wall. Your nails dragging down his chest and through his hair, you’d look up at him taking all the breath from his lungs. You’re so pretty, you’re both so pretty. He wants to be pretty. He wants to be pretty to you.

He wants both of you.

He wishes you were both in here, as desperate to be with him as he is to be with you. He wishes he was sandwiched between you again, four hands groping him, pulling at his hair, helping him out, touching him where he needs it most.

A loud knock at the door, followed by your voice snaps him out of his train of thought. He stands up, startled.

"Billy?" You call again. He freezes.

"Yeah?" His voice cracks. He can't make out what you say.

"Can we come in?" You ask again. His heart is in his throat. There is nothing he wants more than for you to come in right now. But god, he was so close. He waits, cock still hot and throbbing in his hand. He can’t keep jerking off to the thought of his friends absolutely ruining him when you’re right there, right?

“Yeah,” he says again. The door creaks open, and the temperature drops as steam billows out, your voices taking its place.

“We’re doing some laundry to get the rest of the… slime… out of our clothes,” you say, recalling how repulsive those monsters were, “so which one do you want?”

He barely processes what you’re saying, terrified you’ll somehow find out exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, terrified you can somehow see through him and into his thoughts. In spite of how impossible it is, he’s terrified at the thought of either of you being… disgusted with him? With everything he's thinking about you? He's terrified, terrified you’ll hate him, cast him out like a horny lusting pariah. It’s not like you’re even that close to begin with, no matter how much he might like to be.

“What?” he asks, brain fogged with confusion and thoughts of you.

“Detergent. What are they again?” you ask the second part more quietly, and Steve’s voice now bounces against the walls, still groggy from sleep.

“Clean linen or April fresh.”

“Uh…”

“Blue or pink?” Steve asks again, simplifying the question.

“Both.” he blurts before he can think.

“Okay,” you say, “we’ll let you know when your clothes are clean.”

“I have some stuff for you to borrow until then.” Steve adds, “I’ll leave it on the counter.”

“Sounds good.” Billy says, trying not to sound snappy. He lets out a shaky, haggard breath.

“Breakfast is cereal and leftovers,” you begin.

“And a lot of coffee.” Steve interjects. You continue with a chuckle.

“You can come whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.” he can come whenever he’s ready.

“Thanks.” he blurts as an afterthought.

After what feels like an eternity (and simultaneously not nearly long enough) the door is closed and he’s once again alone with his thoughts. He braces himself against the wall, water dripping down his face, right hand lazily holding his cock, now gripping it with a newfound fervor. He pants, grinding into his hand, wishing he had something or someone - or someones - to help him out a little.

He wonders what you would do if you were getting Harrington off. Images of you pumping his cock and pulling his hair, whispering dirty shit in his ear flood Billy’s mind. For the thousandth time, he imagines being right in the middle of it. Back pressed against Steve’s broad chest, you straddling his lap, telling him how to touch himself… Finally, it’s enough to send him over the edge. He humps into his hand, and muscles contracting, balls twitching, and climaxes hard. Riding out his high, he pumps out all the thick hot cum that’s been building up - and hopefully the feelings building up along with it.

He sinks to his knees and watches it go down the drain, panting and light headed. Once he catches his breath, he stands back up. Right as he reluctantly turns off the water, the door opens again. His stomach drops. If he had come in any sooner… he wonders if you could hear him over the running water.

“Clothes are on the counter.” Steve says, now sounding more awake, the smell of coffee wafting and mingling with the steam in the room. Billy runs a hand through his wet hair, brushing it back, and thanks him.

“Need a towel?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Billy says, and he watches as a moment later Steve’s hand pokes past the shower curtain, handing him the fluffy material, their fingers brushing as he takes it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No problem.” Steve says casually. The door opens and closes, and Billy is alone again. He wraps the towel around his waist, stepping out into the rest of the bathroom. He looks at the clothes on the counter; gray sweatpants and a led zeppelin tee shirt, knot tied in the front. He recognizes the sweatpants as Steve’s, and the shirt as yours. A soft smile kisses the corners of his lips.

Once he’s dried off and dressed, he decides to leave the shirt tied up, even though it shows a lot more of his midriff than he’s used to. He can picture you clear as day in this exact shirt, casually gathering the material and twisting it until it’s knotted up. He looks at the folds in the fabric, face warm, and is struck with the sudden realization that if this shirt ever got untied, it would never be tied in the exact same way ever again. It will always be different.

A sudden outburst of laughter from down stairs snaps him out of his train of thought. He has to face you eventually, he thinks, opening the bathroom door and beginning his descent down the stairs to rejoin everyone, he can’t put it off any longer. He heads down the stairs and into the living room, ruffling Max’s hair and exchanging good mornings.

“Did you sleep okay?” he and Max are newest to all this stuff, and he the last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of anything. He takes solace in the fact that it’s not everyone’s first time at the rodeo.

“Yeah,” she replies, seeming as normal as could be expected under the circumstances, which puts his mind at ease. “How about you?”

“I…” he trails off, knowing this is the worst possible time and place to bare his soul and confess his sins, “slept. I guess.”

“Coffee’s in the kitchen.” she replies without missing a beat.

“So I heard,” he mutters, before heading in that direction. He enters the kitchen, stopping in the doorway

Steve is smothering you in kisses, turning you into a giggling mess. You playfully smack his chest, and he barely pulls away enough to talk.

“Y’know, you really should be nicer to me. I have a booboo eye.”

“Oh, of course,” you say, feigning concern, “I’ll call an ambulance right away.”

“Y’know, a sexy nurse would probably do the job,” he says quietly, nuzzling into your neck.

“Oh… my god.” you laugh in disbelief, “You really are the worst, Harrington, you know that?”

It gets hard to breathe for a minute, as everything he felt last night, and this morning come rushing back, full force. He lets out a soft laugh at the situation. He actually thought he had all this under control for a minute. All of this is amplified as you hand him a cup of coffee.

“Morning sleepyhead,” you smile, passing by. Steve pats his chest

“Will you tell her she’d be an amazing nurse?”

Billy, too flustered to think but just fucking overjoyed to be included, scrambles for an answer.

“I mean…” he says with a smile he hopes comes across as cocky and not lovestruck.

You turn to Steve.

“You’re a terrible influence. I don’t want you around my kids.”

“Oh they’re your kids now?”

“Call me mommy!” you call over your shoulder. Steve and Billy watch you walk away, and Steve says, partially to himself, partially to Billy, “I can not get enough of her, you know?” Steve follows you back into the living room. Billy watches both of you drink coffee and eat breakfast, chatting with the kids.

“Yeah,” he breathes, once again wracked with a visceral sense of longing, a deep empty feeling, the cure for which is painfully within grasp but still intangible, in spite of how much he might try, “I do.”

tag list: @hopefullhearts

#steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #harringrove x reader #stranger things x reader #steve x reader x billy #okay so i've been working on my script for my stranger things dr #lemme know if yall want excerpts from that #i might turn part of it into a fic actually #there's a really cute part where steve writes his number on a zippo and gives it to you #i made that up before i found out he uses a zippo on the show #so uh #psychic moment uwu #um yeah i've been daydreaming about this exact scenario since I met billy #like #brain rot city here I am #for gods sake do i think of anything else ever #the anser is not

1K notes · View notes

geirutoneido · 7 years

Note

This is um really random but I saw ur fanmixes and they're really neat?? I was wondering if you had any tips for making a mix for a character bc I want to try and get into doing that sort of thing? Sorry this is really out of left field ^^;;

NO THATS OKAY I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MIXES AND YOU HAVE ACTIVATED MY 100% SPECIAL INTEREST MODE i really love mixes in any case and i have a lot of thoughts

here’s a rundown of a few things i think are important in a mix, and i’ll explain them all below the cut because this is bound to get pretty long:

a theme/genre: it can be any kind of theme you like (ie a pairing, particular aspect/trait of the character, something abstract like corrosion, a particular music genre), but it helps in finding tracks that go together and having good flow to the mix

transition/flow: this is one of the most important things i think! don’t just toss a few tracks together, they need to transition well from one to the next. going from katy perry to ajj doesn’t usually work well, even if both songs work well for the character.

storytelling/track order: related to the transition of tracks, they also need to make sense structurally. say, you have a song about their childhood and one about their love life, it doesnt make much sense to go from their love life to their childhood, so put them in appropriate order.

so to actually start making a mix, i’d say to find a theme or genre first, to work with. that sounds kind of hard, but what works for me is to just collect a bunch of tracks i associate with that character in a youtube playlist, and then see which tracks are strong, if there’s any that work particularly well together, and then just copy those to your draft playlist and find more tracks to build around it.

an example: i know [over 80 tracks i associate with the phantom], but realistically not all those are gonna work together. for [the actual phantom mix] i made, i decided to build around “neil cicierega - wnrdwll”, and specifically searched for [other mashups and other upbeat but distorted sounding tracks] to create the theme of, well, screen burn.

other examples: [my souta mix is based around musicals], which ended up working surprisingly well, and [my manosuke/souta mix is based around dadrock], because, you know, daddy issues, just like me

then there’s the transition and flow! once you’ve got a good feel for what you want, you’re going to have to find songs that actually go well together. that doesn’t just mean in terms of genre, it also means that you make sure you don’t have one really loud song next to a quiet one, (unless you’re doing that intentionally). basically, listen to your songs and decide by ear if it is or isn’t jarring to hear them in that order.

an example: in my phantom mix, [the tracks] go from slow and relatively coherent to faster and more incoherent - and then after raocow’s cat planet (which is 90% “catplanetcatplanetcatplanet”), it goes straight into an ajj song about murder, which is a jarring transition but done for effect.

other examples: i do something similar in [my manosuke mix], from the upbeat “the dear hunter - go get your gun” to “if not now then when - toast” which is in whispers for effect. in [my very first mix], and my souta musical mix, i’ve also included tracks without text specifically for the transitions between songs and making the whole thing a bit less overwhelming/a lot on an end.

EDIT: for this point, also consider looking up covers, mashups, [specific genre] remixes, or even nightcores if you’ve got the right song but bad flow!

my last point, is storytelling! this is a lot more up to personal preference, since you’re the one who knows what you’re seeing in those tracks and what story you’re telling, so i can’t give you a lot of tips on how to do it, but mostly just to keep it in mind. my favorite kinds of mixes are mixes that are an experience from start to finish, with lyrics in one song paralleling those in another, and a good intro and outro, rather than just a few character relatable tracks tossed together!

an example: [the tracks] [in my manosuke mix] start off with songs about childhood/fathers (how much do you love me/father/the hell of it) and then go into narcissism/obsession/a desire to be useful (oh no!/gallery piece/i’ve seen all good people), then murder (go get your gun/toast), confrontation with edgeworth (knight jumps queen), aftermath of his actions and relationship with souta (be nice to me/everyone else is an asshole/knight moves/the hands that thieve) and finally, death (the hands that thieve/best friend). in summary, that’s basically manosuke’s entire story, told in chronological order! and it wouldn’t work very well in any other order.

as for the parallels, the manosuke mix has multiple songs about chess that glue the whole thing together (ive seen all good people/knight jumps queen/knight moves), and the lyrics in “how much do you love me” parallel those in “knight moves” (”how much do you love me/how much do you care” / “do you love any/do you love none”). i do that in the souta mix too with both the original and an instrumental cover of gee officer krupke, and i basically made [a whole (two) mixes structured on parallels and shitty moon jokes] before.

some extra additional tips:

when picking tracks with important lyrics, consider lyric videos/captions/tracks with clear vocals. if the lyrics mean a lot but no one can make them out, that’s not very useful!EDIT: on the topic of accessibility, i personally like using well-known songs, because most people will know the lyrics even without captioning. i know it’s not for everyone, but don’t immediately write off a song just because it’s well-known or like... [a meme]

think about the length of your mix: a really long mix is hard to listen to in one sitting and focus on, but a short one is a short experience

i usually use youtube for my mixes, since 8tracks stopped service outside of north america, but i hear good things about playmoss as alternative

and, well…

it’s probably pretty obvious at this point, but keep in mind i tend to overthink mixes a little to the point of pseudo-science, and you don’t actually need to take all my advice to make a good mix! these are just some things i do, and maybe a few places to start out in, but ultimately the most important thing is of course that you feel good about your mix and like your selection, so that should be your goal above all else!! as long as you enjoy listening to it, it’s a good and successful mix. (if you don’t like listening to it, just keep editing until you do)

good luck with your endeavors, and i hope you have fun making a mix!!!! ty for asking!!! n__n)/

#anonymous #text heavy -#long post -#im so sorry if youre on mobile and this readmore isnt working this is the sound of me infodumping #this is ok 2 rb btw #replies

17 notes · View notes