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ganjas-shit · 3 days

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Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Warnings: sexual thoughts, angst, mentions of ptsd, Neil Hargrove, mentions of loneliness and isolation.

Pairings: main pairing Billy x reader, some slight Steve x reader

Summary: Your longing for an exciting romance finally comes true when Billy Hargrove becomes your next-door neighbor. But is love everything you thought it would be?

Authors note: hi everyone! I’m most likely going to be turning this into a series (don’t know how long yet) but I’m so very excited because this has been sitting in my drafts for about a year already and I’ve finally decided to just finish it. There will be eventual smut for this soooooooooooo yea tee hee anyways hope you guys like it! Btw the timeline I’m using is not the same as the one in the show.

⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚

Love was something you deeply craved, something you longed for. As ridiculous as it sounds, you thought about it almost every day.

Having that one partner in crime; someone you can be reckless, wild, and free with. Someone who makes you forget about reality; someone who would do anything for you. Someone who knows the deepest, darkest parts of you.

For a while it became something you obsessed over.

Intimate, passionate, crazy love—blamed for the constant loneliness you felt. Your obsession with fictional romance failed to alleviate it. No amount of reading or watching could fill the cavity in your heart, that horrible feeling of emptiness in your chest.

Then Billy Hargrove became your next-door neighbor.

It all happened so fast.

Your belly erupted with a swarm of butterflies the moment his ocean-blue eyes met yours, as if the world paused just for that brief moment.

His dirty blonde curls and tan skin ignited something deep inside you. Soon enough, the emptiness in your chest was replaced by the fierce pounding of your heart.

Pretty boys came with a lot of attention, though, meaning Billy Hargrove came with a lot of attention.

Every girl threw themselves at him the moment he set foot in Hawkins High. And who could blame them? With a face like his, he was downright gorgeous. If you had the courage, you'd throw yourself at him too.

But for now, simply admiring him from a distance would suffice.

You took pride in that though. Who else can say they had a perfect view of Billy Hargrove almost every night through their window?

You spent countless nights watching him smoke cigarettes outside on the hood of his Camaro, admiring the way the moonlight hit his face as he was in deep thought about God knows what.

It was pretty hard not to look at Billy other than those nights through your window though...

In Mrs. Clarke's biology class, you'd often catch yourself staring at him. He'd sense your gaze and once smirked back at you, letting you know he felt your eyes on him.

And God, he would never forget the look on your face—wide-eyed and embarrassed as hell.

He thought it was the funniest thing in the world and he found it quite entertaining.

He found you quite entertaining.

Billy was so accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him; it was something he had gotten used to since he hit puberty. And although he enjoyed all the flirtatious looks and comments girls threw at him, he eventually grew bored of it.

However, you and Billy shared a common craving. Whether it was for love, excitement, intimacy, or entertainment, both of you yearned for something more.

“Shit guys, we totally forgot to hang up banners in the gym for tomorrow's basketball game!” You screamed like a madwoman startling the entire student council.

With just two minutes left until dismissal, exhaustion hung heavy in the air. The entire week had been a relentless blur of preparation for the school's stupid pep rally and its accompanying activities. By this point, everyone, including you, was over it.

As the bell rang, everyone dashed out of the classroom as if their lives depended on it. They gave you apologetic looks, patted your shoulder, and mumbled every excuse imaginable to avoid putting up those banners in the school gym.

“So fuck me huh?!” you yelled after them, throwing both your arms up in frustration before dropping them in defeat.

As head of the student council, you couldn't afford to procrastinate. The principal had emphasized that those banners had to be up and ready for tomorrow's game, or there would be consequences. That prick didn't intimidate you in the slightest, but, you had a reputation to maintain, and everything had to be flawless.

You huffed and grumbled as you entered the gym, your arms hugging a variety of large banners needing to be hung up. Your frustration completely blinded you to the sight of the gym full of shirtless basketball players.

Suddenly, a basketball collided with your shoulder at full speed, knocking the banners out of your arms.

The gym erupted in laughter.

“This isn't the student council club you do know that right kooks?” Tommy H. yelled from the court, laughing, trying so hard to impress his dickhead teammates.

Kooks.

They had given you that nickname after the scene you caused at Tina's Halloween party last year. It's the reason you no longer associate yourself with that crowd.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

You arrived at Tina's party with Tommy and Carol by your side, just one week after your harrowing experience of getting stuck in the Upside Down. It probably wasn't the wisest decision to be out, and you knew it. You had been home, cutting class, and ignoring their calls, and they had noticed a change in you. You were easily irritable and on edge. Carol even made a snide comment about how you'd probably been hanging out with Munson, snorting too much Special K.

According to them, you were a real drag to be around. So, they dragged you out of the house, urging you to let loose and forget about whatever it was you were dealing with. And so you did. You drank until you couldn't feel anymore, indulging in anything and everything that was being passed around.

Carol was never truly your friend; she was someone you grew up with and were kind of forced to know. She never really cared for you, so it was no surprise when you overheard her snickering with a few girls from the cheer squad.

They all eyed you up and down as you drunkenly swayed to the music.

“Wonder what hell she's been living; she's out of fucking control,” Carol remarked, smacking her gum as she laughed with the girls next to her, rolling her eyes at you.

Your ears perked up at her words, and they echoed in your head on a relentless loop, amplified by the effects of alcohol and marijuana.

Hell. Hell. Hell.

Images from that fateful night flooded your mind—the frantic sprint through the woods, the desperate attempt to escape the unknown terror pursuing you. You ran until your lungs burned and your legs gave out, only to find yourself in a place that resembled home but felt like a nightmare. It was as though you had fallen into a pit and landed in a realm you could only describe as hell. Darkness enveloped everything, the air thick with swirling black particles, and a monstrous creature hunted you down as if you were its final prey.

Tears welled up at the memory, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You had been bottling up your emotions, feeling isolated because what you had experienced sounded utterly unbelievable.

You charged at Carol and shoved her into the wall, causing picture frames of Tina's seemingly perfect family to crash to the floor.

Like the breaking picture frames, the smiles masking their true essence shattered that night, much like your own exterior, revealing the turmoil within.

You started to laugh manically, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Oh, Carol, you haven't seen hell,” you chuckled, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “It's right beneath this town, and it's anything but pretty. It's downright awful.”

Carol was frightened tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she felt powerless in this position.

“Hey! What the hell is your problem, Y/L/N? Get off of her!”Tommy yelled, rushing towards you and Carol, pulling you away from her.

You pushed him back. “Don't you dare put your fucking hands on me!” you yelled, your words laced with venom. He backed away, refocusing his attention on Carol, attempting to comfort her throbbing head.

The images flashed in your head: your screams, the Demogorgon, the overwhelming sense of isolation. You turned to face the party, and all eyes were on you as the music came to a sudden stop.

“How can you all just sit here and party,”you screamed, your voice growing louder, more terrifying with each word. Nobody dared to approach you or even attempt to calm you down. It was clear you were experiencing a psychotic break.

You hadn't spoken to Steve in months, ever since he started distancing himself from you, Tommy, and Carol. But you couldn't forget the moment when he threw you over his shoulder, with Nancy by his side, and dragged you out of that party.

That night, you cried until you fell asleep, finding comfort in the presence of Nancy Wheeler and your old friend Steve Harrington. When you woke up the next day, you found yourself in Nancy's bed, and they bombarded you with all sorts of questions. You ended up sharing the horrifying experiences you had down there, and for the first time in a long while, you didn't feel alone. Now, you were stuck with a new nickname and a family bonded by the traumas of the Upside Down.

You laughed at the memory but the anger you felt in the moment snapped you back to reality.

The basketball rolled to the side, catching your attention. With all eyes on you, including Billy's intrigued gaze, you felt an itch for release. Without a second thought, you picked up the ball and with one swift motion, threw it at full speed. It struck the side of Tommy's head, catching him completely by surprise as he was too preoccupied trying to make his teammates laugh.

“You do realize there's a basketball game tomorrow, right? Maybe you should practice your passes a little more, you fucking prick!” you shot back, mimicking his tone with a hint of venom.

The laughter in the gym was quickly replaced by a chorus of “oooh's,” and Tommy was visibly seething with anger, clutching the side of his head where the basketball had struck him.

“You're so lucky you're a girl, freak!” Tommy yelled, pointing his finger at you in frustration.

You smiled and flipped him the bird.

Your reaction sparked something in Billy's gut, a mix of amusement and something else. He couldn't help but burst into laughter, though you might not have noticed being too preoccupied with picking the banners up.

Before he even realized it, Billy found himself inexplicably drawn towards you, as if some invisible force was guiding his steps.

Like his legs had minds of their own.

“That was quite a throw,” a deep, angelic voice sounded from behind you. Shit, you had totally forgotten he was here.

“Those throws are especially reserved for dickheads,” you retorted without turning around, your face turning as red as a tomato.

Billy's chuckle caught you off guard, something you never thought you'd hear up close. As you started to walk off to finish what you came here for, you heard him clear his throat, stopping you in your tracks.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” he questioned, giving you no choice but to turn around and see what he was referring to.

And god all mighty

There he was, shirtless. His tan skin glistened with sweat, revealing defined abs and muscular arms. Geez, you could've passed out right then and there.

He wore a proud smirk, revealing a perfect set of teeth as he held out the tape you needed for the banners. You almost drooled at the sight of him, feeling your core heat up and your cheeks flush.

“Oh, uh—thanks” you nervously said, quickly grabbing the tape from his hand. Surprisingly, you still maintained eye contact. God, he loved the effect he had on you.

“You need any help with those?” he chuckled once again. That's twice now; one more and you might just jump on him.

“Don’t you have to get ready for tomorrow’s game?” You asked timidly.

Jesus, why did you care?

“They can’t overwork their star player sweetheart.” He winked, once again flashing his pearly whites

You died and went to heaven at this point.

Sweetheart? That wink?

Your mouth hung open and he left you speechless, like a crazed fan girl. You started to wonder how he’d look at you if you were on your knees taking all of him.

How he’d talk to you..

“Look at you taking all of me sweetheart.”

God you really needed to get your shit together.

“Come on sweetheart don’t leave me hanging,” he said as he waved his hand in your face, trying to bring you back to reality.

He really needed to stop calling you that.

“Um, yeah, I guess I could use a little help,” you said, swallowing harshly. Your gaze shifted from the banners in your hands to his lips.

You really hated how flustered you got around him but a small part of you loved these new feelings.

“Great.” he responded with a cheeky grin.

You found yourself not being much help; he took charge and handled the banner hanging almost entirely by himself. He insisted on doing it, claiming it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Tommy looked over at the two of you, confused. Billy Hargrove being a gentleman, especially to the psycho? Hell must've frozen over, he thought.

With Billy taking on the work, you had no choice but to stand there, looking all pretty, as you ripped pieces of tape with your mouth and passed them to him. You guided him on how to position the banners into place.

You couldn't help but notice the way his back muscles flexed when he reached up to position the banner, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You’d never been this close to him.

It also didn’t help that he brushed his fingers against yours every time he went to grab a piece of tape from you. And with him on the stool, towering above you, looking down at you, there was plenty of room for imagination for you both.

You were convinced he was trying to fucking kill you. Was he aware of the effect he had on you?

Every touch from him sent every single nerve in your body into a frenzy.

And those were just your fingers; you could only imagine what would happen if his fingers touched the spot you longed for him the most.

In the past few weeks, Billy had noticed that he was always running into you one way or another. So, he decided he might as well make it fun.

You were different from the girls he usually pursued, and he liked that. It made things all the more exciting. Billy had learned a few things about you: you were timid but had a backbone, responsible (an assumption he made because you were the student council president), and not too worried about your appearance, which didn't really matter because you were already breathtakingly beautiful.

“LADIES, HUDDLE UP! HARGROVE, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!” Coach Williams's voice rang out, snapping both you and Billy out of your thoughts.

Billy climbed off the step stool and leaned in towards your ear, catching you completely by surprise. He whispered, "Glad I can be of help, sweetheart. If you need help with anything else, I'm only one house away." With a smirk, he pulled back and left to return to his team captain duties.

The hot of this breath made your body shiver.

The look on your face was embarrassing, with your cheeks hot and your mouth slightly hanging open. Billy would never forget it; in fact, the mere sight of your mouth hanging open made him twitch in his pants as his imagination ran wild once again.

Your thoughts wouldn't allow you peace of mind as you finished tidying up the banners into place. Lost in thought, you hadn't even noticed that everyone had already left the gym, leaving you alone in the empty space.

The sound of the door gym doors opening startled you, snapping you back to reality.

You smiled at the sight of the tall brunette.

“Ah if it isn’t King Steve” you say teasingly, “or should I say EX King Steve who has been dethroned by the new California hottie.” You tease poking at his face

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Steve replied dryly swatting your fingers away, taking fake offense to your comment.

Steve could care less about his so called “throne” he had new priorities, which consisted of ooking after you and his newfound family of children.

“Very funny y/n,” he said sarcastically.

Steve couldn't help but wonder if you and Billy had been hanging out. He had noticed how fond you had grown of him ever since he stepped into town. Lately, he had observed a change in your demeanor, how excited you were to get home, and how your face lit up at the sound of Billy's name. Steve could practically feel the butterflies radiating off of you.

“Hanging around is pushing it, Steve. We're just neighbors,” you reply, with a slight blush on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

“Yeah, I don't blush when someone mentions Agatha, my next-door neighbor,” he scoffs, shivering at the thought of his creepy stalker neighbor.

You roll your eyes at him, though it's quickly replaced with a smirk. “Well, Billy isn't a creepy stalker,”you say, though you wouldn't mind if he was. “Plus, he's kinda hot,”you finish, nudging his shoulder as you two make your way out of the gym.

“Yeah, gross,” Steve dramatically gags, though he also cringes at the slight twinge of jealousy he keeps feeling in his stomach.

You and Steve never hooked up. However, you two did develop some weird feelings for each other, but it was probably because you were so close to dying together.

You frown at the memory you thought was going to be the last.

Vines from the Upside Down began to wrap around your neck and body. Steve was right next to you, suffering the same fate. He looked at you, his heart breaking at the fear in your eyes. Trying to bring you some comfort, he gathered as much strength as he could and reached his hand out for yours, interlocking them together.

Thankfully, Eddie and Dustin saved you and everyone who thought it would be a bright idea to fight off Vecna. Ever since that day, though, Steve has been attached to your hip, making sure you get home safely after school and always ensuring you aren't alone.

Sometimes he'd find himself gazing at your lips or absentmindedly brushing away strands of hair that danced across your face on a windy day.

Steve didn’t know where you two stood. Neither of you had made a move, and he was too afraid to make one and face rejection.

You weren't sure how you felt about Steve, but you knew how you felt about Billy, and that feeling was becoming increasingly difficult to brush off.

“Coach still benching you for tomorrow's game?” you ask, changing the subject immediately. You regret it the moment you see the disappointment on Steve's face.

Basketball was his first love and ever since Billy got to town he’s slowly been losing the love he once held for the game.

He ran a hand through his messy head of hair and sighed.

“Yeah, thanks to your boy toy over there,” Steve says, glaring at the blonde who was a car away from Steve's. You wrap your arms around him as you two reach his burgundy BMW.

“You're a great player, Steve,” you state matter of factly, squeezing him a little tighter. “I think everything that's been going on—the Upside Down, us fighting interdimensional monsters, and almost dying—has taken a toll on you.” You reassure him and then let go to look into his eyes.

“It's normal to have a little setback; it's understandable. Plus, you've saved the world multiple times!” you said, slapping his chest lightly. “That beats being a starter on the stupid Hawkins High basketball team any day.”You finished, smiling at him.

Steve’s eyes softened at your words and smiled.

Christ, this is exactly why his feelings were a mess for you.

Steve brought you in for a tight hug because words couldn’t express how grateful he was for you.

From the next car down, Billy observed the two of you and couldn't shake the thought: had you and Harrington ever been a thing? The idea unsettled him because Billy Hargrove didn’t want to share you.

Steve dropped you off at home, as he usually did. He would usually stay for a bit and keep you company, but tonight he promised Dustin he’d take him to Mike’s for their D&D campaign.

You walked into the house, which was eerily quiet and empty, as it always was. Switching on the kitchen light, you noticed a note attached to the fridge.

Be back in the morning. Love you. -Dad

You sighed as a your traced your finger up down the note.

Your father traveled for work most of the time as a tech service representative for a variety of chemical companies. He'd often be gone for days, sometimes even weeks, so being alone was something you had grown accustomed to.

Your relationship with your father was also very complicated. You would even say it was nonexistent, given that he was always gone, and when he was around, he'd sleep the days away.

You pretended like it didn’t bother you but deep down it was something that made the cavity in your heart unbearable.

You weren't completely alone, though. Steve and you bonded over your shared loneliness, as both of his parents were also always away on business trips, calling only once a week, if he was lucky.

He'd often spend the night at your place, or you'd spend the night at his, rewatching ‘The Breakfast Club’ or ‘Sixteen Candles,’ his personal favorite, although he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

The bond between you two wasn't solely fueled by loneliness; fear played a significant role as well. It was the fear of that night—the night your friends almost died—that kept you together.

You felt goosebumps travel throughout your body at the thought of it. You instantly shook it off and decided to wash your feelings away with a warm, hot shower. You dreaded the night to come because of the insomnia you developed this past year of living in this small town. But thankfully, you had a couple of your favorite romance novels on deck to keep you occupied throughout the night.

You slipped into one of Eddie’s well-worn Metallica tees, its length reaching down to your knees. It was a keepsake from the day you and the gang had spent the night at his trailer, after an exciting evening of sneaking into the Hawkins community pool.

It was one of your favorite memories you’ve made in this shit town.

After slipping on the tee, you put on some black laced panties you pulled from you drawer.

You glanced over to your window, partially covered by your curtains, and wondered what the dirty blonde was up to. Curious, you walked over and took a peek, wondering where he was because he was usually out at this time, either smoking a cigarette or sitting in his car, or doing both at once.

Like clockwork, he slammed his front door, grabbing the red lighter he always kept in his back pocket and reaching it to the cigarette hanging out of his pink lips.

He cupped the cigarette out of habit and lit it, inhaling the silent killer.

He then hopped onto the hood of his car and reclined, still smoking the cigarette as he gazed at the starlit sky, lost in deep thought.

You wanted to join him, eager to learn more about the California boy, even if he didn't show interest in you. Something inside you just needed to know who Billy Hargrove was.

You also wanted to try to settle the intense feelings coursing through your body.

You stared at him for what felt like a lifetime, admiring his chiseled jawline, how his pretty blue eyes looked in the moonlight, and the rhythmic pattern of his inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke.

Fuck you cigarette.

You envied his cigarettes.

You wanted to be inhaled and exhaled like that, and you didn’t even care if you were disregarded like them when he was done.

Billy felt your gaze through the window, and as he smirked, you couldn't help but notice. Despite being caught, you couldn't suppress a smile of your own.

Billy sat up and looked directly into your window. Your face grew flustered as you two made eye contact, but you held it, unable to look away.

You pushed yourself to do something you found so uncomfortable and you ignored the negative thoughts running through your head.

Billy tossed his cigarette to the ground and he was about to pick up a new one.

That being you.

You quickly threw on some discarded sweats from the floor and made your way to the front door. As you wrapped your hand around the doorknob, you hesitated for a minute. Nervousness gripped you, but you were determined to make things different this year. You wanted to push yourself beyond your comfort zone. No longer content with just fantasizing about romance, you wanted to live it, even if it meant risking a broken heart in the process. After all, at least you'd have a story to tell.

The cool night breeze kissed your face, sending shivers down your spine as you stepped out of your door. Closing it behind you, you were wrapped in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of the streetlights. Your heart raced as you descended off the few steps of your front porch.

As you turned the corner, you were met with Billy Hargrove's infuriating smirk. It would've been irritating if you didn't harbor this crush for him. With determination, you walked in front of his car, mere inches away from where he sat. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

“Hi,” you spoke up slightly out of breath. Billy knew it was nervousness that caused you to sound that way.

You think back to the conversation you had earlier in the day.

“If you ever need help with anything, I’m only one house away.”

You wanted something. You knew what you wanted, and you knew what him meant by it, but you didn’t want to jump his bones immediately. You wanted to get to know him, and maybe that was foolish of you given his reputation, but you didn’t care. You knew you couldn't judge someone based on rumors.

“Hi, Y/N,” Billy greeted with a chuckle, his eyes roaming over your figure. He noticed your shirt and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“You listen to Metallica?” Billy questioned, his gaze shifting to Eddie's worn-out black tee. "Oh, this?" you said, grabbing onto the thin material of your shirt. “No, it's a friend's. He let me borrow it,” you partially explained, letting out a shaky laugh.

“Hmm, didn't peg Harrington for the metal type either,” Billy remarked, assumingly lighting yet another cigarette.

"You think Steve's my only male friend?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have more than one?" Billy questioned back, the movement of lighting his cigarette coming to a short pause, his eyes widening momentarily. Billy could take Harrington, but any other male suitors would be a problem for him.“Is that a problem, Hargrove?” you questioned, once again amused by his reaction. Was he jealous?

He laughed and took a drag from his cigarette. He looked so beautiful like this, the view from your window couldn’t compare to the view you had right now. Despite the chill outside, you felt a warmth spreading through you.

“Not that I can’t compete with Harrington and?” He asked waiting for you to provide the name of said friend.

Compete?

“Eddie,” you said filling in the blank for him. “Ah, Munson, the freak,” he chuckled, taking yet another drag from his cigarette.

“You do know you’re talking to right? You remark, raising an eyebrow at him hinting that you fell into the same category as Eddie.

“Never said I had a problem with ‘freaks’,” he said smiling, as he looked down at your lips before meeting your gaze. “If I’m being honest they’re my favorite types of people.” He added licking his lips.

You gulped as his intense gaze met yours. He was undeniably gorgeous. The ache between your legs begged for relief, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed, especially when he then asked,

“Come sit,” he said, making space for you on the hood of his car. You obliged, sitting on the cool surface, crossing your legs, relieving some type of pressure. “You smoke?” he asked, handing you the lit cigarette. You took the cigarette, his warm fingers slightly touching your cold ones.

“Nope, but there's a first time for everything, right?” you smiled, taking a drag of the cigarette. The sensation immediately made you almost cough out a lung and you hadn’t even inhaled it completely. Billy laughed once again and slid his hand onto your back, lightly patting it attempting to ease your coughing fit.

You handed the cigarette back to him and laughed, the coughing fit dying down. “Yeah, first and last time doing that. God, that is nothing like weed,” you remarked.

Billy removed his hand from your back, and you couldn't help but groan slightly at the loss of touch. He looked at you with an amused smile. "I could only imagine how you reacted to hitting a joint," he said with a grin.

“Oh, trust me, it was nothing like that. I almost died just now,”you said as you wiped the tears that formed in your eyes from coughing.

You leaned back on his car like he did on countless nights and looked up at the starlit sky. Billy did the same after putting out his cigarette. "The only good thing about this shit town is how pretty the sky looks at night," you said. He looked up at the sky and thought the same. There were so many stars, each one representing hope.

"And the rain," he added, which surprised you. “But you're from California, it’s all sun over there!” You exclaimed, giggling a bit.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled at your excitement. “It hardly rains over there, but I loved it when it did,” he said, reminiscing about his life in California.

“I liked sitting in my car and listening to the rain; it brings me some sort of peace of mind. Especially here, it's stronger and louder, drowns out the thoughts,” he added, tapping his head in a playful manner.

You smiled at his explanation.

“It makes me feel like a kid again,” you added, your voice soft with nostalgia. "Running around, no jacket, laughing, feeling the water down your face and drenching your clothes. Sometimes I sit outside and look up at the sky, enjoying the way it feels on my face," you said, still smiling at the sky above.

Billy turned his head to look at you now, and you were oblivious to it for the first time. He felt his heart skip a beat at your explanation and the way you smiled at the sky full of stars. From that moment on, Billy was determined to know more about you.

You two continued talking, giggling, sneaking glances at each other, but it all came to a halt when you both heard a loud slam from the door of his house. A man in his mid-40s descended down the stairs of Billy’s front porch and made his way towards you both. Billy straightened up immediately at the sight of this man.

“It’s late,” the man spat, keeping his eyes on Billy, completely ignoring your presence. “Get inside; you need to take Maxine and yourself to school tomorrow.”

“Hi, sir,”you timidly intervened. “I'm Y/N. I live next door. I'm sorry for keeping Billy out so late. We were just talking about class, and I lost track of time.” You finished

Billy looked at you in shock as if you said something out of turn.

He looked you up and down with a deadpanned look before giving you a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Then, he gave Billy a warning glance before leaving. Odd. You thought.

You noticed the shift in Billy’s demeanor he was noticeably uncomfortable and even seemed scared. Billy took a deep breath after his father left and ran a hand over his face, visibly tense.

“You okay?” You carefully asked not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yeah, I will be,”he exhaled, mustering up a small smile. “Thank you for tonight. I'll see you around, Y/N.” With that, he left. You waited until he made it inside and you returned home yourself.

As you stepped into the house, the loneliness of it consumed you once again. But you disregarded it, shaking it off, because a bigger part of you felt content and happy.

Billy grew accustomed to loneliness; sometimes, he even preferred it. But when he saw how present his friends' parents were in their lives, the loneliness spread and often consumed him. His mother was gone, her whereabouts unknown, leaving him abandoned and stuck with his monstrous father. He had the shell of a parental figure, but in reality, his father was a bully, a coward. This left Billy feeling trapped and hopeless, like a prisoner in his own home, with no one to relate to, no one to vent to, nothing.

When Billy made it inside his house he had already prepared himself for the worst. His father was seated on the sofa waiting for him to come in.

“I'm sorry, sir, I lost track of—“ Neil raised his hand to stop him from explaining, and like a trained soldier, Billy shut his mouth immediately. Neil stood up, making his way towards him. Billy flinched as Neil raised his hand, and to Billy’s surprise, he patted his shoulder. Billy furrowed his brows in confusion; he hated his father's touch. “Nice girl,” Neil remarked before walking past him and heading to his room.

What the fuck?

Anger coursed through Billy’s veins, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Why you? What the hell was so special about you that had Neil Hargrove's fatherly approval? Billy scoffed. He didn’t care if he'd get beatings for what he had planned or about your feelings at the moment, but he was going to royally piss his father off. Fuck his approval. He didn’t want it nor did he care for or it.

Billy disregarded his strong feelings for you and decided to be the dick he knew himself to be.

Tags:

#eddie munson #stranger things #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #nancy wheeler #billy hargrove smut #steve x billy #billyhargroveseries #Steve x female reader #billy hargrove x female reader

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sayruq · 1 day

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"I did not expect that the fact that I am an Israeli who visited Israel a few weeks ago would be a red flag that requires questioning," Neriya Ashwal told Walla. Israeli student Neriya Ashwal landed at an airport near Nottingham last Friday and was detained for questioning by the anti-terrorism unit, according to Walla. Neriya is an Israeli student studying in Barcelona. Last weekend, he had an unpleasant experience when he went on a short visit to Britain for a few days, landing at the small East Midlands airport outside Nottingham on Friday. During questioning at the border control, he was asked if he had recently visited Israel, and he answered yes. He was then forced to undergo a more in-depth questioning by no less than the anti-terrorism unit. After the border control officer asked the usual series of questions, Neriya was asked if he had recently visited Israel. "I answered yes and said I had visited family and friends three weeks ago. The border control officer called someone on the phone and reported that they had an Israeli who had visited Israel recently," Neriya told Walla in a phone call from Barcelona. "He nodded, hung up, and asked me to sit and wait on the side. The passport remained with him. "He continued, "After about a quarter of an hour, three uniformed police officers arrived, talked to each other, looked in my direction, and after another five minutes, two more people in civilian clothes arrived and escorted me to an interrogation room. "The most senior of them told me, 'We are from the anti-terrorism unit. You have nothing to worry about. You are not detained. We just want to have a short conversation. You may go if you choose, but if you choose to go, we will detain you.' "They started by asking the usual questions again: Who am I? Where did I come from? Why did I come? Where do I plan to stay? What exactly do I plan to do? But then it took a left turn. "They started asking, 'Were you in the army?' Were you a combat soldier? 'I told them that I had diabetes and that I was not a fighter but in intelligence." They continued: 'Were you in the field?' I answered no, while it seemed to me that I already understood what they were looking to hear and what they weren't. They continued with questions about the visit, 'When you were in Israel, did you have any role in the army?' I answered 'no' to that as well." Neriya says that at the end of the questioning, they asked for proof of all his plans for the weekend, a return flight ticket, booking a place to stay, and a bus ticket to London. "They tried to be nice, and when the most senior of them left the room, the junior said to me: 'We don't have a problem with you, but because you come from this region, we just want to make sure. There are simply others who come here with other intentions, you know.' "The senior officer then returned to the room and said that I was allowed to go but that they wanted to check my bag first. Another policeman arrived and completely turned my bag over from end to end. He found nothing. Of course. In good time, after an hour, I was free again." Following the incident, Neriya addressed a letter to Israel's current ambassador to the UK Tzipi Hotovely and mentioned the similar case of Nova survivors, the Sharabi brothers, who were detained at Manchester airport about a month ago. He also mentioned that he is bringing his case from last week to the attention of the Foreign Ministry because, according to him, "If there is an instruction/policy/or even a local initiative by the border control officers to detain and interrogate any Israeli who is leaving military service or an Israeli who recently visited Israel. This is a disturbing phenomenon that Israeli officials need to recognize and deal with through the official channels."

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #great britain

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sadokasochism · 2 days

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For me, the most heartbreaking aspect of Ivan is that the poor clueless bastard didn't have the tools to express his affection in any way that didn't involve violence or manipulation, or weren't too inscrutable, quiet, or unseen to be picked up by Till.

I definitely interpret Ivan as autistic for several reasons, a big one being their Segyein teacher's notes about him:

It's just. Classic ND behaviour to me.

Not only does expressing emotion and communicating the way other kids do not come naturally to Ivan, but it's not as if he's been given a great example of coping with this from the Segyein.

Ivan managed to mask in a way that made him popular with other students, and got him in the good graces of their captors. He did everything expected of him to survive and thrive in this environment.

Then he meets Till, inscrutable and very different to the other kids, just like Ivan is. Except, Till doesn't mask. He doesn't change or try to endear himself to their captors, and he doesn't bend to anyone, no matter how much he is hurt and punished for it.

This is a new situation for Ivan, and he's never had anything to compare his feelings to. He also can't figure out how to communicate with Till, every interaction, no matter how well meaning, seems to end in failure.

I bring your attention to the cheer up comic, and how, again, autistic this interaction feels:

There could be many reasons why Ivan chose to say what he did, but to me it feels like ND bluntness not being received well. And that's fair! From Till's perspective Ivan is being a jerk for no good reason.

Instead of responding with glee towards Till laying him out (as we see from Ivan when they're a bit older), Ivan justs seems... really confused. Like he didn't expect that statement to upset Till that much, and he didn't expect Till to respond in the way he did. Everything was fine a second ago, what went wrong?

Then, Ivan uses the phrase he learned from Till in an attempt to self sooth. It might have been the first example of comfort after an injury/hurt he had ever seen, given how he defaults to it. And it was from Till trying to cheer up a flower.

This also shows some of Till's blindspots. He has grown up having to be vigilant, because violence and hurt have been a core part of his upbringing. This leads to anything he doesn't immediately, clearly understand as being perceived as a threat or a slight, and so he reacts violently to Ivan's statement.

I'll also draw your attention to this comic where, as far as we know, Ivan is simply stating a true fact in a blunt manner:

In my interpretation, these types of interactions keep adding up, and Ivan is grasping at straws the whole time, trying to be closer to Till and failing every time.

Eventually, the only surefire way to get Till's attention is to piss him off, provoke him, manufacture scenarios to talk to him. I'm not excusing this behaviour, but I understand where Ivan could be coming from, from the perspective of both an emotionally immature/stunted child and/or an ND child.

Despite how much they fight and bicker, at every moment it really mattered, Ivan was there for Till. It was always Ivan coming to free him, to take off his collar or gag, and it was Ivan who led their escape.

Ivan couldn't leave Till behind when he went back for Mizi. Even with the confirmation that Till would choose Mizi over Ivan every time, Ivan couldn't leave him.

The miscommunication goes two ways though. It's insane to think that Till didn't care about Ivan at all. They were close as kids, and I doubt Till ever forgot about the escape he gave up.

We have the graduation messages, where Ivan is able to write something that could be reasonably interpreted as affectionate or fond towards Till.

Meanwhile, Till's message-

If we're being charitable with our interpretations, we can say this was Till's way of saying 'of course I remember you' and attempting to communicate that Ivan HAD left a lasting impact on him.

However, how could any reasonable person be expected to get THAT out of 'you stole my fucking pencil'? Ivan could have taken this one of two ways:

1) Omg he remembers me 🥰

2) he leans into his 'i will never be loved back' bias and thinks that Till really doesn't care about him at all

Who the hell knows what goes through that weird little brain of his. But given how Round 6 went, and what Ivan had to say in the confession comic, he obviously didn't think his impact was significant enough.

Then Alien Stage happens, and in Round 3 Ivan is FINALLY communicating his feelings in a way that is vulnerable and might even have a chance of being understood as love and yearning!

Till is unconscious through it until the very end.

Then in the next round, Mizi goes missing, and Till can't care about anything anymore.

Ivan finds him after the private performance, takes off his gag, and just holds him. Again, Till is unconscious for all of this.

Then, in Round 6, not only is Till distraught from the disappearance of Mizi, but he's given no time to process what the fuck is going on before Ivan is dead at his feet. Till might have finally had a chance to really understand where Ivan was coming from, how he really felt all this time, and Ivan DIES.

And still, Ivan's most transparent act of affection? It's delivered with violence. He's kissing a distraught Till who tries to push him away, and neither of them are happy. He puts his hands around Till's neck, not really hurting him, but it's enough to look convincing for the cameras, and it's enough for Till to go limp and wait for death. Ivan's final loving act is to give Till a soft look with blood pouring out of his mouth, that Till still does not see, and then let go before falling to the ground.

It's just a collection of failures. We see from Ivan that he truly loved Till, made a lot of selfless decisions for his sake, was filled with so much longing and affection, but he just couldn't get it across in a way that doesn't seem fucking deranged from an outsider's perspective. And when he DID manage to communicate his feelings more clearly, it was to a Till that was unconscious, or too distracted/dense/traumatised to see Ivan's actions as ones of love.

There's no guarantee that Till would have reciprocated even if Ivan had managed to communicate his feelings in a healthier way, but there was at least a CHANCE. At least Ivan could have gotten some closure, even if he was rejected.

Instead Ivan died thinking he was completely unloved by the person who he cared about more than anything else, and his last ditch effort to make Till understand was deeply flawed and uncomfortable.

If these kids had grown up any other way, maybe they could have had a chance. Unfortunately, the world they were in didn't equip them to not hurt eachother in their attempts to grow closer.

#alien stage #alien stage ivan #alien stage till #alnst #alnst ivan #alnst till #ivantill #tillivan #alien stage round 6 #if you saw me edit this a bunch of times trying to link the masterdoc post no you didnt

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babybells123 · 2 days

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I’ll never get over this - what an insanely cryptic statement to make . It’s also interesting that GRRM will give long rambling answers about other ships (as he tends to do in interviews and asks) but this is his response here. Short and sweet but ambiguous and entirely up to one’s interpretation - essentially think about what you’ve read.

And then it had me thinking…

To imply that George isn’t a careful writer and doesn’t put immensely intricate thought into every sentence he writes is entirely reductive to him as a writer. Especially if you claim to be a fan of said writing (you’d have to be apart of this fandom). This is the man who has taken 13 years to write TWOW, who consistently writes, scraps, and rewrites chapters if he dislikes them or they don’t fit what he’s envisioned.

And with a fandom that has discussed, debated and analysed every possible theory - providing some well-thought out essays onto the internet, consistently stating that nothing is ever a coincidence with George before delving into a lengthy analysis - it has me wondering why said theorists and ‘very intelligent’ contingents of fans will be grasping, bursting blood vessels, losing their mind and their sanity in the process just to disprove a possible match between J/S.

Now as an example that I’ve come across just yesterday on the infamous r/asoiaf - When S*nsan is brought into the conversation, it’s absolutely accepted as a plausible theory due to *checks notes* people devoting time to and picking apart evidence and to the wider fandom either not dismissing it or remaining neutral about it. (I mean, the redditor I was made privy to yesterday just disproved the Ashford tourney theory and it’s connection to Jon on the basis that it was made by a s*nsan shipper - wow !! Thanks :)) I never knew , finally my rose tinted glasses have been removed and I can bow down to you, oh wise redditor … these J words are CRAZY delusionals indeed!!

This is just one example among the many of the possible future romances that are debated endlessly on the various social media platforms , and all said ships - whether they’ve met or interacted or are very close or whatever require analysis . Deep deep analysis. Picking apart sentences, imagery, chapter ordering, literary references you name it . We all become literature students, and every ship is privy to it and hey ! More power to them - we’re all just having fun here theorising about all the possibilities for a book/s that has not yet been released.

So it begs the question , and bear with me here - I know I’ve been talking quite a lot about people opposed to and entirely dismissive of my ship - but yesterdays’ conundrum had me thinking about generalised fandom receptiveness.

See, normal fans (normal people) when presented with a theory that they genuinely believe to be so absurd/dislike/are entirely opposed to , would simply block the user, filter the content, and move on with their lives. A far happier solution, it means you’re not worked into a frenzy over something you’re aware you don’t like. Yay! Everyone’s happy! But…..

People must be debby-downers and ruin the fun , turning into genuine clouds of negativity, invading tags in which they don’t belong, creating anti blogs, writing lengthy essays disproving it all - yep, we’ve seen it, and we just ignore it as best we can.

But it gets to a point where it’s just frustrating. Because this is all so painfully hypocritical. If said intelligent fandom can provide 3 hour video essays, 50,000 word essays and reddit debates of threads with 100+ replies based on the notion of tyrion being a targaryen, or j*nrya is actually canon or the blue rose is metaphor for a future romance whatever theory that’s been put into the world - why - gods why does the entire fandom jump on the bandwagon of hating/dismissing Jonsa as soon as it’s brought up as a theory??

When we are just doing what everyone else has been doing vigorously for the last 13 years - theorising, analysing, debating like we’re literature students (and I’m a lit major, so it does feel this way). And whilst we quietly engage with and make our content, we’re ridiculed, picked apart, and vilified elsewhere for being awfully stupid people - because ….why?? Oh yes, that’s right - it is not a valid plausible theory at all, we just ship it because we self insert as sansa and jon is a heroic figure or the even sillier assumption - because Kit and Sophie are attractive people (which indeed they are, but most theories stem from the books, lmao.)

Sooo, essentially jonsas aren’t allowed into the club because …. (Well I’m actually still wondering why), because every other popular ship theory is either incestuous or involves a child being shipped with a grown person.) so Jonsa is obviously the latter, but that’s not the reason that the general fandom (J*nerys and to an extent, J*nrya) dislike them because those too - are incestuous.

If you’re an individual who is uncomfortable with all incest ships period . Then I respect that since I understand it. What I don’t understand, as seen through reddit and what I was made privy to yesterday, - were the multitude of disprovers fine with J*nerys and J*nrya and S*nsan but god forbid someone brings up Jonsa because then it’s a crackship - except all those other ships I mentioned are valid because people have analysed and theorised and written metas etc etc etc and Jonsa’s are just plain silly crackshippers.

I really have to wonder about fandom mentality, because it’s making less and less sense to me ….

Anyway George you ARE a sly one and I’ll always giggle when I come across that image.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #anti sansa antis #fandom mentality #anti asoiaf reddit #anti asoiaf fandom #anti jonrya #anti jonerys #anti sansan

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throughthetwistedmirror · 3 days

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Otome Game ~ *Idia Shroud*

Summary: It was Idia's idea to game with you. But when you ask him for help with your otome game, he can't help but notice some similarities between him and your favorite character...

Pairing: Idia Shroud X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Oneshot

Word Count: 1004

Warning: Otome gaming

Masterlist

Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew

It was Idia's idea to game with you, although he only asked because you mentioned that you had a new game that you haven't gotten around to playing yet. You were sure he had ulterior motives when he asked you to hang out, but you didn't bring it up with him as you didn't want to scare him off. Instead, you simply grabbed your game and met him at his dorm.

Ortho was more than excited to see you. You always held a special affection to Idia's little brother that didn't go unnoticed by both parties. On more than one occasion when you weren't around, Ortho would beg his brother to finally ask you out. But Idia was far too terrified to approach you with a romantic relationship. So he simply settled for a friendship that he would never ever, ever, EVER take advantage of.

Idia made sure to clean his room before you arrived and you were pleasantly surprised. Whenever you crashed the Board Game Club meetings, Azul would go on and on about how filthy his room was. Still, you didn't point it out to him. You didn't want to make him feel any more self-conscious than he already was.

After exchanging some casual pleasantries, the two of you fell into your gaming. It was calm and relaxing. You found yourself enjoying your time with the dorm leader of Ignihyde more than you anticipated. He was considerate about your own gaming experience and kept his reactions to his game quiet. Every so often you would look up and watch what he was doing, asking questions when you felt it was appropriate. He answered all of your questions with ease and even reciprocated by asking questions about your game. All and all, it was the perfect afternoon with one of your favorite people.

Then you hit a rough patch in your game. Your sigh of frustration alerted Idia, who knew exactly what it meant: you needed help. Now, Idia doesn't like to boast about his exceptional skills when it comes to video games, but surely he could appear like your knight in shining armor and lend you a hand?

"What's wrong?" He softly asks, his gaze still trained on the game he was playing.

"I'm stuck. I don't know which boyfriend to choose." You mumble, flicking through the different options in your otome game.

Idia thought it was a good thing you weren't paying attention to him as his hair flickered pink for a brief moment. He fumbled with his control to pause his game before finally addressing your issue.

"What, what do you mean?"

You showed him the screen of your game console. "So my new game is an otome game. I have seven boys to choose from. I just completed the intro and now I have to pick one, but I don't know who to choose."

He frowned and looked at your options. "Why don't you just pick one that you like and then do the other routes later."

"That's the problem. You can only choose once. If I want to complete the other routes, I have to buy another game. It's a major capitalism scheme, but I thought the game looked fun." You shrug. "Any idea who I should choose?"

"Uh... why don't you tell me about them and then I'll help you decide."

You nod with a smile that makes the tips of his hair turn pink again. "Okay in order here you have: Ryushi, the strict student body president who just needs someone to soften his edges, Ietsuna, the lazy slacker who only cares about you, Amane, the bad boy who likes to tease and torment, Kobo, the golden retriever who is the fan favorite, Michinori, the cultured exchange student who is a little fruity in my opinion, Masanobu, the secret prince of the school who would do anything for you, and Ichibei, the otaku with a heart of gold."

"Wow." He's surprised with how typical the choices are like every other otome game. He would normally say pick the one you're most interested in as they're pretty average, but considering you can only make one choice, you have to be careful. "I guess I'd have to say the choice is up to you."

You give him a pout. "You're really going to make me make such a tough decision all on my own? You're so mean, Idia!"

He panics at your words, not meaning to make you upset with him. "Well I mean it's your game! You should pick the boy you feel is the most special to you! I can't really help you make that decision."

"I suppose you're right..."

"Who do you feel is special?"

You shrug and glance back at your choices. "Well, I first thought about Masanobu because who wouldn't want to be a princess? But I felt he was trying too hard in the prologue to try and gain your favor. So I went through the options again and I'm stuck on two: Amane and Ichibei."

He tried to not let you know how surprised and flustered he was. "Oh?"

You nod. "I mean, I'm so like other girls when I say I love a bad boy, but Ichibei... he seemed so sweet and shy. I couldn't help but be drawn to him. I think he might be my favorite."

Your explanation was not helping the poor boy's rapidly beating heart. Based on your little description about him, Idia couldn't help but see similarities between him and Ichibei. Was this your subtle way of saying he was your favorite too? Was it too much to hope that that was true?

"I think you should go with your favorite."

You beamed at his words and his heart skipped several beats. "I think you're absolutely correct! Thank you Idia!"

"You're welcome." He mumbled and tried to return to his game. But he was distracted. Your words and your choice hit him harder than he anticipated. Perhaps Ortho was right. He should ask you out…

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shuttershocky · 23 hours

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I remember that Grandpa Aozaki was apparently the prototype for Zouken and that Aoko called him a monster. How bad was he?

Well first off he doesn't die when he's killed, which we all know is something people don't do.

But seriously though, Grandfather Aozaki is a prototype for Zouken more on the "aged wizard who is no longer human" sort of way rather than the "feeds his family to dickworms" way, though don't get it wrong; he's still a huge dick.

At the end of Mahoyo, he requests to meet Soujuurou and comes to thank him for keeping his granddaughters from killing each other. That being said, Soujuurou catches on to Aozaki quickly, realizing that Aozaki doesn't actually remember Touko and Aoko's names and is only interested in them becoming mothers to pass on the Aozaki family line until their family creates the perfect magus.

Touko despises her grandfather, because he put the burden of becoming the family mage on her when she was young, and his training was harsh to the point of looking like abuse (and most probably actually being abuse, given what we've seen in the rest of Type-Moon), but right before Touko would have been given the family crest, Aozaki changed his mind and named Aoko the heir instead, claiming that Aoko was more suitable. Cast out of the family and trained for nothing, Touko fled to Europe and vowed to get revenge.

Unlike most other mage families that can be found in Type-Moon, Aozaki actually really did discover a viable path to the Root. It's not stated clearly in Mahoyo if this is the reason he's able to keep living despite being dead, but it is why Aoko became the 5th Magician.

As for how he originally died, during a training session with Touko and his other student Eiri (who was also Touko's first love), Eiri suddenly attacked Aozaki and killed him. When a distraught Touko asked why he would do that, Eiri simply answered that Aozaki left himself open and Eiri wondered if he could pull it off. After that, Eiri left and joined the Church, and Touko has hated priests since (making Eiri the proto-Kotomine Kirei).

#Mahoyo #Witch on the Holy Night

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hannahssimblr · 17 hours

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“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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my-insanity-is-an-artform · 2 days

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Shitten Shenanigans AU – The Fall of Death

Lamb heaved deep shuddering breaths as they glared at the now diminished form of Nar- The One Who Waits. Their body throbbed with pain and their heart was pounding so hard they thought it might burst from their chest, but all of that paled in comparison to the sheer rage that thundered through their veins.

How DARE HE?!

HOW DARE HE AFTER ALL HE AND HIS SIBLINGS HAD PUT THEM THROUGH?!

WAS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT THEIR WHOLE SPECIES AND FAMILY HAD BEEN STOLEN FROM THEM THAT HE WOULD TAKE THEIR CHILD TOO?!

Lamb stalked towards The One Who Waits, their sword scraping against the floor, as he tried to sit up only for Lamb to stomp a harsh hoof in the middle of his chest, crushing him against the ground. He struggled against it weakly, glaring up at Lamb with bared teeth.

“You’ve supplanted me. A vessel no more, now a crowned deity, you damned lamb!” He hissed furiously. “Will you be a merciful coward or a vengeful false idol, you traitor?!”

Hefting the sword above their head, Lamb sneered down at their former divine patron. “For Asha, I would slay as many gods as I need too! Especially ones that betray me first.”

The anger suddenly drained from The One Who Waits’ face, leaving confused furrowed eyes, and he ceased struggling. “…What nonsense do you speak of?”

The sudden change of emotion stayed Lamb’s hand for a moment and for some reason, they answered. “You betrayed our deal first. You demanded the sacrifice of your most devoted follower, YOUR OWN CHILD! MY CHILD!”

Rage swiftly returned to The One Who Waits’ face and he snarled back, a sudden burst of energy as he shoved the hoof off his chest and reached for Lamb. “I’D NO SOONER SACRIFICE AYM AND BAAL THAN I WOULD ASHA, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! THEY ARE NOT MY FOLLOWERS, BUT MY STUDENTS! MY CHOSEN SONS AND CHILD! MINE!”

Lamb dropped the sword and dipped out of the way of the fallen deity’s grasp, flipping him over. “YOU CALL THEM YOUR MOST DEVOTED FOLLOWER! CONSTANTLY! ALL OF US DID!”

He managed to roll to his feet and dodged their own lunge. “I WAS SPEAKING OF YOU!”

The air seemed to still as the rage within Lamb’s snuffed itself out just as quickly as it had arisen when Narinder had first spoken of a sacrifice. “…What?”

Narinder snarled as he drew himself up, lacking the monstrous height he once had but still a good foot over Lamb. “You were my most devoted follower. It was your sacrifice I spoke of!” He paused for a moment as something akin to hurt intermingled with the rage. “You truly believed I would command such a thing upon my own? Even after I had given my word no harm should ever come to them under my protection.”

Lamb tilted their jaw up stubbornly, their anger growing anew yet at a much dimmer level. “You ordered the death of your own siblings. Why would it seem such a stretch?” They knew the answer as soon as they said it.

The hurt faded as rage covered it up again, the force of such causing Narinder to shake. “My siblings betrayed me and bound me! They committed genocide for fear of me! They deserved their fates as you well know!”

Lamb flexed their fingers. “…They were still your family once. Besides, why not simply say? Why call for your most devoted’s death when you knew that is what we called Asha?”

“I had thought you would have a modicum of intelligence to recognise it was not the child that I spoke of!”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on dressing up your orders, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“Why would you think I commanded you to leave the child with the rat if I wished for their death!?”

“You command a lot of contradictory things! Sacrifice a follower, resurrect them! Oh here’s a ritual to brainwash your followers but if you tell them to not consume strange substances, they’ll work harder at the cost of falling sick when you brainwash them!” Lamb stalked towards Narinder and jabbed a finger into his chest. “’Take Asha to Ratau’s then bring them here to die!’ is not out of character for you!”

He grabbed their hand and moved it to the side, gripping it harshly. “I sent Asha to that useless rat so that they would not have to watch! To see you sacrificed in my name would have caused them harm for how much they love you! For however much they adored your visits, they cried at every death!”

Lamb snapped their teeth in his face. “And what would you have told them?! When I never appeared again? Would you have told them the honest truth, that you had me killed? Or would you have lied to them as well?!”

Narinder grabbed them by the shoulders and shook them roughly as if to somehow rattle sense into them. “THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO NEED FOR YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN BY MY SIDE!”

“THE HELLS DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!”

“RESURRECTION, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! LIFE GIVEN ANEW WITH THE PROMISE OF ETERNITY AS MY WITNESS! A VOW THAT YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE TO RAISE ASHA OPENLY AND IN SAFETY UNDER MY WATCH!”

Silence reigned across the blazing field of the afterlife as the two stared at each other, their breaths intermingling as they panted. The Red Crown still discarded aside.

The pain started to creep in along the edges of Lamb’s vision. “…Swear to me it was me and not them.”

Narinder started to sway as the last vestiges of his own energy began to drain away, but even then pure honesty shone in his eyes. “It was always you, Lamb.” He seemed to be staying on his feet out of pure stubbornness and by the grip he still had on Lamb’s arms. “So what is to become of me now? Will you slay me like my siblings or are you a merciful coward?”

The crown finally returned to Lamb's head.

They reached out and grabbed him as he lost the fight against his injuries. Pulling him gently into their embrace, they slowly lowered to the ground and pressed a hand to his chest, summoning the indoctrination circle below him. They couldn’t help the way they tucked him closer to their body.

“If it makes me a coward to prevent my child’s sorrow at the loss of their father, then a coward I must be.”

Narinder sputtered a bitter chuckle as his eyes went hazy with pain and betrayal. “I will not forgive you.”

“Can you blame me for doing what I thought was to protect Asha?”

Silence again before something passed over Narinder's face and he closed his eyes.

"...No, vessel. I suppose I cannot."

With that, Narinder fell into the blackness of the teleportation, leaving Lamb alone in a field of damnation and the feeling of bitterness.

______

This.... was a lot less cracky than I thought it would be when I started. I was going do like a fade to black in the middle of the argument to the POV of one of the cultists who are watching what is essentially a marital spat between their leader and their god, but it didn't fit the vibe.

This Narinder never lies. He doesn't always tell the truth but he doesn't lie. Which is why Lamb took him at face value when he said he wanted to kill his most devoted and when he said everything here.

They're both too proud to have an actual conversation about this until they get locked in the confessional by the kids.

Narinder also feels a bit tame but, 1) he's currently in shock at the loss of godhood, 2) he just spent the past couple of years co-parenting with Lamb which bonded them closer than in canon and 3) its my au and I do what I want.

Asha is my shitten's name which fun fact means hope/wish/desire in Sanskrit (same origin as Narinder's name) and life/longevity in Arabic/ Swahili which I thought was cute.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #Shitten Shenanigans Au #Cotl Lamb #Colt Narinder #narilamb #or rather pre-narilamb #I still dont go here #that time Narinder asked for the death of his most devoted follower and Lamb heard Kill Bill Sirens #the au's. they plague me #might do Nari's intro to Asha #since im headcanoning that Nari named Asha #this is why communication is important people #especially with your co-parent

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