#He makes me mentally ill

[insufferablemod]

Hmmm..

[aliveinacoffin]

Kinda request

hi! I just wanted to ask if u could write a fic of any fandom and character of ur choosing! I enjoy reading your fics so much and I would love to read one of your own liking! Thank you and have a great day <333

i love you guys so much i literally would eat a baby for you guys PLS 😭😭 decided to write a gta v fic with micheal because GYATT damn do I love him, also sorry this took so long, I have like, a trillion fics to write 🥲

Wedding Ring

You knew Micheal was married with a wife and kids, and that he went through hell and back to keep them safe and alive. When he goes off this crazy adventure and he has to hide from the cops, where does he go? That's right, the woman who he has been sharing a bed with the last four years.

Fem!Reader: She/Her pronouns and descriptions

TW!: NSFW, cheating, ghosting, manipulation

It was a nice and sunny day, something that was usual for a city like Los Santos. Still, you took advantage of this fact. You were lounging in your backyard with nothing but a swimsuit on, trying to suntan in peace with your music playing loud as possible, enjoying the feeling of the sun's hot rays on your skin. 

That peace was quickly disrupted.

"Why the fuck are you playing music so god damn loud?" A familiar gruff voice barked from behind you. You snapped your eyes open, quickly sitting up to see the offender who disrupted your peace and broke into your house.

"Oh Michael." You groaned, laying back down on the white pool chair. The separated plastic part of the white chair dug in a satisfying way into your back.

"Seriously, Jesus it's eleven in the morning." Michael stumbled over to your phone, angrily smashing the side buttons.

"Damn who shit in your cereal? Or maybe drink would be better." You scoffed, pissed that he was even here. The old man hadn't contacted you in months, ghosting you after he fucked you in some shitty motel near sandy shores. 

"An old friend of mine and my whole fuckin' family." Michael mumbled, and you watched him behind your black sunglasses approach the bottom of your sunbleached chair, resting his hands on your ankles. He looked down, light green eyes watching his hands trave circles in your ankles. With his motions, his gold wedding ring glittered in the California sun.

"Why are you here?" You asked, not bothering to move from your position hands resting on your stomach. Your fingers suddenly felt very bare.

"I just wanted to see you, is that such a crime?" He shrugged, but his hands started to trail higher, now rubbing on your calfs. 

"Well, aside from the fact you haven't spoken to me in months, let a lone texted me. No, I guess not." You pulled your legs away, sitting on the side of the long chair. You still watched him, hands grabbing tightly on the metal, burning the palms of your hands.

"You know how it is, life gets in the way." He tried to wave you off, shrugging his shoulders. Michael had already taken off his suit jacket, white shirt looking grey with your vision. So he expected you to just hop on his dick right away?

"Yeah, I'm sure it does. With your wife and family keeping you busy." You got up, walking over to grab your phone and speaker.

Michael didn't say anything to that, instead he just watched you. He silently followed you inside, stopping you from closing the sliding glass door on him.

"Seriously Michael, why are you here?" You growled at him, not bothering to spare a glance back at him. You stopped at your sink, resting your knuckles on the metal appliance. His heavy footsteps followed you, and through the window above the sink you saw him come up behind you, watching you.

"I just have a lot of stress, and my therapy is always telling me to get rid of it." Michael's large hands rested on your hips, still watching your face.

"Then go to your wife. I'm obviously not anybody to you." You looked down, unable to meet his watchful gaze. Instead, you regrettable made eye contact with his ring. "Go home, go to your fuckin' over priced shitty therapist and your shitty family that your always whining about." You snapped, but you made no motion to move away from his hands.

"They left me." He admitted lowly, and that made you look up. Michael was not an honest man, he was a lying hypocrite who constantly cheated on his wife. He was always the type to skirt around the truth when it harmed him and constantly complained when he could. The man had left a life of crime, that much you knew, and ever since had regretted it.

"Why?" You asked softly, making eye contact with him again in the window. It was hard to see him, with your glasses and the bright sun outside, so you opted to take them off, making the appeal of Michael much clearer. Though, you couldn't stand stand look at him.  Michael loved making eye contact with you, for a reason you never knew. But it absolutely pained you to watch his eyes fill with want and desperation. 

"I'm not a good man. I chase things that I'll never get, things I can never keep." He leaned over your back, breathing into your neck. He pushed your hips back, pulling you flush against him. His hands wormed their way under the elastic of your bottom, rubbing and pinching the fat there. He pressed gentle kisses into your neck, lightly nipping the skin that was presented to him.

"Is that right? What about the things you have?" You knew for Michael no matter what he did, no matter what he got, nothing would ever be good enough for him. The perfect life he could have in his own expensive mansion is ruined by his own self hate and incompetence. 

He just scoffed at that, like the very notion of his luxury car and permanent retirement from life was so hard, something to just be brushed off like nothing.

"What about me? When will I stop being enough? Or have I already?" You asked, stopping his movements. He had already gotten the strings halfway down your ass, reaching just the top part of your bottom. Michael stilled, unmoving against your warm body.

"No, I can never get enough of you. I had to work on my marriage, but I never stopped thinking about you." Michael admitted, and that made your head hung low. You knew he was prone to just saying whatever would get him into your pants. He always knew what to say the exact words that would make you drop to your knees.

"Or maybe because I'm some pretty young thing who won't give you crabs." You tried to lighten the mood, tried to tease to cover up the aching hole the older man had unknowingly made inside you. He had created a Michael shaped hole in your heart that made you mourn during random hours of the day, and when he would fill it in the late hours of the night it soothed your bleeding heart.

"Hah, maybe." That made you tear up, eyes fluttering while he slipped off your bottoms, groping you fully. You could feel his hard on pressing into you, demanding its way onto you.

He slipped two calloused fingers down, tracing up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that has accrued.

"You act so fucking bratty, but you're so god damn wet." He barked in your ear, mocking you as he slipped a finger in. You sighed, rocking back against his fingers, wanting, needing more. Who knows when the next time he'll come back? 

If ever.

"Come on, you know I can handle way more than that." You rushed, wanting to just get this over with and never wanting this to end.

He tugged on your hair, pulling at your scalp.

"Don't rush me, just shut up and look pretty." Michael's past actions would attest to that, he loved it when you argued, when you threw fits and pouted, he loved every minute of it. Because he knew that if he pushed you for enough, you'd beg for his cock, you'd be crying and whining for it, you'd be crying for him.

Michael never was the one to love a submissive woman, would he like to have one? Sure, any man would. But after a while it would get boring, there'd be no angry sex, no makeup sex, there'd be no back talk for him to shut up. Plus, it would be like speaking to a void, nothing important would actually be said, just a blank woman who agreed to everything and anything.

"Then fuck me silly, hey, that rhymed!" You laughed, before a moan got caught in your throat. Two more fingers shoved themselves into you, stretching you out quickly. It would've hurt more if you weren't already wet and near painfully horny. In truth, Michael was the only man you've slept with in a while. You've had flings with other people, maybe one or two serious relationships thrown in, but when you met Michael, an old depressed angry father, right up your alley might you add, at that disgusting old bar, well, everything and everyone else was thrown out the window. Then, you started seeing each other regularly, you dropped all the people you were talking to, even the sweet girl who had really taken an interest in you, and he had stopped going to cheap hookers, instead going to you solely to satisfy his sins.

He said nothing in response, merely just resuming his harsh treatment of your body, curling his fingers inside you beautifully, his memorization of your body never once faded. Your moans grew louder, curling into your counter until your stomach pressed painfully into the sharp edge.

"Just put it in me already, you old fuck." You spat, trying to push back against him. Michael pulled his fingers out, slapping your ass painfully.

"Watch your mouth when you're begging for my cock." He growled, nonetheless, he pulled down his zipper dutifully and fished himself out. He slid himself up and down your slit  wetting himself with your juices, bumbling and pressing into your clit over and over again. It drove you absolutely crazy, unable to buck and finally just put himself into you. You arched, trying to entice him as much as you could, white knuckle gripping the sink. 

Finally, finally he slowly slid into you, and you both let out a low groan. Michael must've been impatient, since he thrusted his way fully into you, filling you so fast it felt like he was in your ribs.

"Fuh-fuck Micky." You whined, and he wrapped his arms around your middle section and boobs, holding you tight while he absolutely rammed into you. Usually, because of his age and inactivity, he preferred to be on the bottom, let you do all the work. But he must've missed you, maybe he was pent up, or maybe he was taking his anger out on you. Either way, it felt heavenly, his thick cock ramming into you, feeling him drag inside you in and out at a brutal pace, not allowing you to think. 

"Of course you like that, huh? Like my cock inside you, treating you like some cheap slut." He growled in your ear, and it would've made you wetter than you already were if you couldn't feel the cool metal digging into your boob. The reminder of what it meant searing into your soul. You hummed lowly, darting your eyes away from him, finding the counter suddenly interesting. Michael seemed to sense your mood shift, and slowed down, but he never stopped. Instead taking to shallow thrusts inside you.

"What's wrong?" He asked, more annoyance in his voice than care.

"Nothing, why'd you slow down?" You lied through your teeth, trying to buck your hips and resume his pace. But he held you tight and close, even if Michael never really worked out, and was closer to fifty than forty, he still had years worth of muscles underneath.

"Because your poutin', now tell me what's wrong?" He asked again, tone sharp and asking to be tested.

"Your ring." You spat out, feeling slightly ashamed.

"What about my ring?" Michael snapped at you, fully stopping his movements.

"It's digging into me." You knew that wasn't the only thing that bothered you, it haunted you almost everyday knowing you were technically a homewrecker. He had two kids and a wife waiting at home for him, and even if he complained about them, even if both him and his wife cheated on each other constantly, it was still wrong. Usually when you complained about his ring he moved his hand, or set it down gently to the side. But not this time.

Michael groaned, and in one swift movement he threw the ring across the house, and you heard it cling! loudly behind you.

"Michael-" You started to reprimand him, but he bent you over fully on your counter, and let you go. He placed his hands on the counter, using it to slam into you again.

"Oh fuck!" You yelled, eyes nearly rolling into your skull.

"Told you." He was breathless, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

"To-told me wh-what?" You squealed when he pressed that delicate spongy spot inside you, making you see stars.

"I needed you, all I can think of is you. All your annoying remarks, the way you feel around me, how you look at me like I'm not an absolute piece of shit." Michael leaned down, pressing his head into your neck, nuzzling into you.

"Then why'd you leave?" You managed to gasp out, feeling your orgasm steadily appeared. That wave of pleasure was slowly crashing closer, it made the thoughts in your head become less coherent, nothing mattered aside from the way Michael made you feel.

"I didn't have a choice, I didn't want to. Had to. I never stopped thinking about you." He lifted one hand, and trailed it down, circling your aching clit. You keened, clamping down on him while your vision whited out. Michael grunted, fully pressing himself into you, and you could feel him filling you up, painting your soft walls white.

You both took a minute to breath, still connected while you panted. Slowly, slowly he pulled out of your over-sensitive walls, leaving you achingly empty. You and him just stood there, panting, unmoving.

“So, you gonna dip, or are you going to hang out here for a bit?” You asked, still a little breathless. There was that bitterness again because no matter what Michael said, he’d end up leaving one way or another.

“I think I’ll hang out here for a little bit.” He shrugged, and as you spared him a glance you watched him tuck himself away, not bothering to clean himself. 

You sighed, hobbling over to your bathroom to grab a wet wipe to clean yourself up.

“Whatever.” You called out. “You know where the door is.”

Michae did end up staying for a week or two, sleeping in the same bed as you and spending any time he could with you. For a second you believed he really did change, that he really did want you, instead of what you could offer.

But one day, when you came home from work and called out to no response, you realized he was gone. You sighed, split between wanting to check under the couch or living your life with as little damage to your psyche as possible. 

The former side of you won, your heart pounding in your ribcage. A new wave of sadness ushered over you, your heart aching as your stomach turned, pain overtaking your whole body.

He took the ring with him.

[churchs-topsurgery-scars]

Charcter(s): Isaac "Felix" Gates

Genres: Pop, Alternative, Indie, Folk, Rock, Indie Rock

[bornsexyesterday]

I need to #### ### ### ##### ### #### ### ###### ### ###

[cosbeans]

im not even surprised by you liking the spot

PLEASE I JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF VILLAINS MAN

[esspurrr]

was screwing around trying to gather deathroot and gurranqs scream of anguish when you smack him after he briefly goes into attack mode makes me so sad :(

[osamusbigtits]

are you able to be like normal about osamu miya or no is this just how u are and will be

are there people who think I'm normal about him? no, this is how I am and will be

[lazycranberrydoodles]

getting back into the untamed and i had a thought. / follow for more yllz babygirlism

[courtmartialme]

woag .. otp

[comradekatara]

"bitter work" is such an iconic episode. toph and katara debate the merits of various teaching methods when your student is a gifted kid who has heretofore never struggled to grasp a concept. iroh expresses a desire to pulverize his fourteen year old niece. sokka and zuko bargain with god.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[mkzmerryfriend]

*cracks knuckles* we know Tyler isn’t the original Clancy right? Y’all caught that? Clancy’s bishop was Keons, Tyler’s is Nico, and now “Clancy” is Tyler. Because “scaled and icy” is an anagram for “Clancy is dead” and that album was the one where dema was using Tyler’s popularity for their own purposes. Clancy failed to stop the cycle on his own, and despite already being used as a figurehead for dema, Tyler decided to take up the role of “Clancy” in the wake of what seemed like a total collapse of the Banditos. Their leader had been taken out, and now they had no one to organize them.

But Tyler taking on the name Clancy isn’t him taking on the role of leader or even organizer. He is showing us (the Banditos) that we all can be our own inspiration, we don’t need a figure to follow, we don’t need a leader to lead us. We can do this, fight dema, ourselves.

Y’all got that, right?

[shitboxcar]

It’s generally overlooked because of all the Greywarenness of greywaren but That One adam monologue in greywaren could kill a victorian child (me. It kills me.)

Are you kidding me. My son😭😭😭 20 different gut wrenching quotes after one another oh it burns

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Another thing that makes kaladin so painfully relatable is how much his mental illness hides his personality, because between depressive episodes and trauma he's this sarcastic little shit that smiles a lot at his friends and then the depression gets to him and all that disappears

[nookisms]

Oops. It's a second headcanon compilation!

Don't worry, the next one will be back to our normal schedule of regular text posts and not headcanons

Masterpost

[ickypuppi3]

billy’s mom waking him up while it’s still dark, whispering even though neil’s working the night shift. it’s a couple days before his tenth birthday and she’s telling him they’re going to have their very own adventure, just like the ones in billy’s books. she grabs an already packed suitcase from under billy’s bed and kisses him on the nose, tells him to get dressed quick. the two of them leave in an old beat up yellow bug that she managed to get for a third of the asking price and keep parked around the corner until now. they stay with friends and jump from place to place so neil can’t track them down. billy gets used to surfing couches and staying in motels.

he spends his tenth birthday in a diner, his mom gets him a big stack of pancakes and a milkshake with extra cherries. gets a candle out her pocket along with her silver lighter. sings happy birthday and pulls a face when the waitress frowns at them, just to make billy laugh. she sips at her coffee while billy tucks in. smiles when he holds some out with a “c’mon mama, share with me.”

billy thinks it’s neat. thinks it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

they eventually end up with a place in california, a little bungalow near the coast and billy grows up with his mom. billy gets pretty shirts from the thrift store ‘cause his mama lets him do stuff like that. doesn’t call him a queer, doesn’t force a baseball bat into his hands whilst yelling at him for crying, for being a pussy. his mom lets him read and keep a journal and press flowers between the pages of the neverending story, she plays hendrix and dusty springfield and laughs when billy comes home from his friends’ house with his first piercing at thirteen. she doesn’t tear down his posters or yell when she finds him using her eyeliner.

and everything’s perfect. sort of.

they have bad days- billy’s mom has bad days. billy calls them gray days ‘cause that’s how the world looks when she’s like this. all her color gone. no singing-dancing in the kitchen or baking five different kinds of cake because she couldn’t decide which one was best, no last minute trips to the beach or sitting outside at night and telling billy about the stars. instead she’ll stay in bed, won’t go to work. she’ll stare at the wall blankly and look right through billy when he tries to talk to her. she won’t take the pills the doc gave her and billy doesn’t know what to do. never knows what to do. just chews at his lip until it bleeds, bites at his thumb until it’s red raw. he’ll get in the bed with her. lay beside her and just talk like she used to do with him when he had a nightmare. hum a song to her.

billy’s still pissed at the world just slightly less so. still has that anger and anxiousness simmering just below the surface and shows his teeth when cornered. he’s still hardened in a way that a kid shouldn’t be but. it’s different. there’s no neil. the only bloody noses he gets are at school, when he fights with the kids who call him a fag and a fairy, call his mom a basket case. he uses fists when they laugh and ask if she’s all there with a finger pointing at their heads, ask if billy will “catch the crazy.”

those are billy’s bad days. sitting in the principals office, icing his knuckles.

when he’s fifteen, billy manages to bag a job at the local auto repair by turning up every day and telling howie how good he’d be, that he knows cars and it’s all he wants to do and please please please. eyebrows pulled together, eyes puppy dog wide and hands clasped in front of him until howie grumbles, throws an oily rag at billy. says fine but billy’s gotta pay for anything he damages. someone brings in a chevy camaro and billy asks howie to let him help fix it up. does the begging again until howie laughs. says get a hold of yourself, kid, voice fond as he ruffles billy’s hair.

billy’s four months away from turning seventeen when the doorbell goes. he’s eating a sandwich and watching knight rider. he’s wearing the necklace his mom got him for his last birthday and- he answers the door. doesn’t think twice. freezes when he sees neil standing there. he looks different. hair a little shorter and more wrinkles. where billy’s gained weight, gained muscle, neil’s lost it. his eyes are a little sunken and he’s still got his wedding band on. he reeks of booze. billy has to remind himself to speak, just says “yeah?” his voice comes out small and neil smiles at him. smiles and billy feels this weird twist in his stomach ‘cause .. that’s his dad and he hasn’t seen him in years and it twists and twists and-

turns out. not much has changed. billy realises a little too late that neil will always be neil. they run again. have to leave everything behind. billy doesn’t get to say bye to his friends, to howie, to the car. they leave a lot of stuff behind and head in any direction away from neil. they both try to keep the mood light, take turns driving and play the tapes billy grabbed. they end up in indiana- hawkins. they stay at a motel until billy’s mom finds a place for dirt cheap. it has two bedrooms and a dingy bathroom, a living room slash kitchen and one hell of a damp problem. it’s dirt cheap for a reason.

it’s above a shop in town and- it’s fine. their landlord is an asshole but they’re together and they’ve got a roof over their heads. billy’s enrolled at hawkins high and his mom gets a job at the laundromat. he tells her that he doesn’t need to go to school, that he could just work and help pay the bills but his mom won’t have any of it. says that she wishes she had finished school and that billy’s too clever to waste it. that he has potential.

billy knows the reason she dropped out of school was because she had him. he just nods, rests his head on her shoulder.

it’s billy’s first day at school and his mom drives him to make sure he actually goes. he gets out the car and tries to shake the nerves off. straightens up and puts on his act. plasters a fake smile on his face and it’s working, he’s got most of the girls swooning and the boys at least seem curious. billy looks around and his eyes land on a guy leaning up against a bmw. his hair’s coiffed to high heaven and he’s wearing a polo, preppy as fuck but- pretty. it’s one of the first things billy realises about him, all doe eyes and moles dotted just about everywhere. he’s got a smirk on his face. not aimed at billy but the guy beside him.

pretty-boy walks over to him and billy raises an eyebrow, plays it cool. he introduces himself as steve and billy gets the idea that he’s top dog at hawkins high, is immediately proved right when they step into the building. king steve, freckles calls him. billy laughs- catches steve looking at him when he does and feels his face get hot. steve just smiles wider, calls billy california and tells him to sit with them at lunch. billy tries to ignore the way steve’s smile makes him feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under his feet.

he nods and steve grins. tugs at one of billy’s curls.

says “i think you’re gonna like it here, california.”