#lemme know if yall want excerpts from that

[fbfh]

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

genre: angsty bisexual pining + smut

wc: 5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn't do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re okay Stevie.”

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

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

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

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

And you stay like that.

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

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

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

“You know I love you, right?”

His words hang in the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know I love you, right?"

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

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

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

Any of it.

All of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mind continues to wander.

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

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

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

He wants both of you.

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

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

"Billy?" You call again. He freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clean linen or April fresh.”

“Uh…”

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

“Both.” he blurts before he can think.

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

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

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

“Breakfast is cereal and leftovers,” you begin.

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

“You can come whenever you’re ready.”

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

“Thanks.” he blurts as an afterthought.

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

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

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

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

“Need a towel?” Steve asks.

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

“Thanks,” he says, slightly breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn to Steve.

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

“Oh they’re your kids now?”

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

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

tag list: @hopefullhearts

[sailorhyunjinz]

damn, i hope it's okay to share this part of the lecture notes because it's publishing my profs skript?

Anyway, i did not think about how i wrote what at all because the lectures are going by so fast; it's also a bit hard to read because of that, but i got you an excerpt mentioning the subspace top 👀

That weird looking T isn't a capital T, it's a lower case greek "tau" and the mirrored capital E is maths for "it exists". I write my actual upper case Es like € but with only one line in the middle. I don't know if that helps but yeah

-horny!jisung is valid

OH I AM SO EXCITED THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS and im sure its fine, no one can understand those fucking mathematic formulas anyways SO WE JUST GONNA LOOK AT THE WRITING <33

The size of your writing is adequate, not too big not too small maybe leaning a bit on the smaller side sometimes which means that you are humble! the baseline is relatively straight, some waves which is great, it means that you have a healthy way of coping with your emotions. the distance between your words changes from time to time which is normal as well, you might be closer to some people than others but in general you have a healthy distance in all your relationships, like you're not forcing yourself upon anyone or have an overbearing issue with abandonment.

theres a slight backwards slant happening ever so often which signals that you are more rational than emotional, your descions are often well thought through and maybe youre not so much of a team player, you like working with machines more than people WHICH IS FINE, WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT. i feel like one of or maybe both of your parents were strict when you were a child and you arent that open when it comes to expressing feelings, you have them of course but you a reluctant to share them, thinking that maybe you are a burden to someone else or that you are equipped to deal with it on your own yeee,,, I DONT KNOW YOU ARE GONNA HAVE TO TELL ME LATER ON IF ANY OF THIS DOESNT RESONATE

for the most part your writing is loopy and round which indicates playfulness and your writing is connected with downwards stroke sometimes and sometimes its disconnected which is normal, nothing weird, the downwards stroke shows friendlyness! its also very middlezone dominant which means that you are here in the present moment, you dont thinking too much about the past and you plan ahead sure but not to like every detail, you are trying to get your tasks done in the present moment yk but theres one thing i noticed and that its although you dont have massive lower zones when they are present so for example the "p" and the "f" your writing gets sharp which signals sexual frustration or maybe frustrations when it comes to power or money like you want more of the lustful things in life but youre not sure how to get there,,, yk

OH I REALLY WAN DO LETTER SPECIFIC STUFF OK ALRIGHT the first thing that really stood out to be is the very inconsistant "t-bar" which is that stroke across the "t". in your writing its sometimes a bit higher but for the majority of the time its very low which gives the impression that you have a low self-esteem, you dont believe in your abilities and you think that you are not as good as everybody else (lemme tell you honey judging by these notes that look like something from a cave you hae nothing to worry about) BUT YOU ARE because look at the loopy "p", thats a sign of intelligence and that you vibe with people that are also intelligent where yall can have interesting discussions about stuff yk

all of your "a" letters are closed which means that you usually dont talk a lot,,, you talk when you need to but like thats it,,, also this is gonna sound very personal but you dont have that much of a craving for oral sex,,, y-yeah ITS NOT YOUR FAVORITE

oh you mentioned that you write your "e" like a backwards 3 and like with a line right? i dont know too much about that trait and i have it too like i write my capital "E" like a backwards three and all of those kinda clump together in something that ive understood as a person that likes to explore different cultures! idk if thats some bullshit explanation cause the only other person i know that writes like that is,,, me like I HAVENT ANALYZED IT ALOT but thats kinda the general understanding of it

minimal insecurity loops but like everyone has insecurities once in a while and a last thing is that you have a "hint" of secretivness but you only use it when you need to like you dont go around holding secrets for no reason but if someone needs you to keep a secret you wont crack and tell it to everyone, thats a positive trait but it can turn very negative if you have a lot of like looping in "o" and "a" where its like someone keeps secrets so hard that it ends up hurting them and their mental state.

,,,, hope this wasnt too personal,,, h-he,, BUT THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN, it can be personal and although i dont see any major red flags i want you to be more believing in yourself because other aspects in your writing show that you are not only a friendly person butalso intelligent <333

[regulusarcblack]

ANNUAL WRITING SELF-EVALUATION

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

steph @twoghostsacoustic tagged me so let’s fucking go fuckos

1. List of works published this year:

let’s be honest here and admit that steph was the one to write M&W all by her damn self HAHAHAHAH it’s our baby but i’m like the cool father who only pops by every weekend to fuck up the kid’s personality and all the hard work is steph’s own doing (same applies to love is on the radio)

anyway moving on

i’ve written everything i’ve ever tried in my life this goddamn year so congrats 2017 you played yourself

first: PWPs Butterflies (or as i like to call it, harry and louis going solo again) Blue and Green (don’t judge me) Ambrosia (seriously pls don’t judge me) Through the Wire (actually nevermind if you’re judging me it’s your problem lmao) Ruby Woo (yes it’s harry wearing lipstick)

Then i tried~~ to be a serious writer and my babies were born

You can’t blame gravity (for falling in love) aka larcel au

High-five of your love aka girl larry 

Harry’s Journal to Self Discovery aka girl larry that will probs be published soon?? and hopefully my xmas crack fic as well???

then i got two wips that were written this year and published on the amnesty week cuz i will never finish it let’s be real lmao

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

honestly? butterflies cuz it was the first one i published on ao3 lmao cuz everything i write i despise

except u#28 i love that shit to pieces but it’s still wip and i love it cuz it’s noir and superhero-y and yeah

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

every single one of them lmao i hate my writing BUT i think blue and green cuz it was the first one????????????????? and it really does suck lmao

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“Shouldn’t you have quit by now?”

“The watch out?” He smirked. “Or the fags?”

He didn’t need to look at Liam to know he was rolling his eyes.

“You know they’re not good for you.”

“Jeez, dad, no need for a lecture right now.” Louis inhaled again, just in spite, wishing he could blow it out to write words on the wind like a magician of sorts. Instead, he amused himself by imagining his deformed cloud of smoke wrote a giant ‘Fuck off, Payno’ before dispersing on the wind. “They help me concentrate. Besides, they keep me warm.”

Liam tsked behind him. Sometimes he took himself too seriously. Louis wondered what it was like to still be like this. Wholesome. Unwavering. Faithful.

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

Louis sighed, crushing the butt of the cigarette against the wall and then throwing it away, the wind picking it up. The best part about sitting so up high was watching the wind carry everything away in a second, almost an endless fall of an acrobat, suspended on air, far away from the ground.

“Yeah.”

He let the wind take his voice away as well. Let it be swept away. Liam would know better than to keep the questioning anyway.

They stood in silence, surrounded by echoes of street life and the falling night.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

uhhhhhhhhh i love @gaycousinlarry‘s girl direction work so i’m still weak she read and commented on mine haha then @finck-you-freeky and @smellofsunshine both read my pretentious wip and highlighted some nice passages and i loved it and someone commented on my larcel saying they’ve reread it many times and i still don’t know how to answer it cuz i’m so flattered???????????? 

but above all i’ll always remember @runontheroadbeforeidance‘s comment for butterflies cuz she was the first person outside of my little group of friends to read my work and comment it and she said it felt like a slow hazy summerday which was EXACTLY what i wanted to pass and i still hold this close to my heart tbh haha

honestly i’m just grateful for everyone who ever read it and if they liked or commented on it i’ll love them forever haha

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

every goddamn time. i struggle a fucking lot to write lmao

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

i’m still not over all that spitting marcel did. why the fuck, mate? also u#28 everyone is always surprising me haha

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i actually begin to write so there’s that haha

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i hope i write smth i’m actually proud of and think it’s actually good haha @ u#28 u ma only hope

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

ughhhh my beta @britpickerhl my test runners @broccoliwasdone @finck-you-freeky @rosegoldhl will have a honour mention and all but will have to excuse me cuz right now it’s @twoghostsacoustic time

no seriously y’all don’t understand i literally only started to write because of steph HAHAHAHAHA it’s more than the fact she’s my friend my beta my cheerleader and my padner in this hellhole, she literally is the reason i even realized i could try my hand at this shit. so if yall wanna blame someone, it’s her

we have our drs and whatnot but in the end tamo junto 

so yeah steph through and through

(also dj imma choose fireproof to play then since steph wrote OVER AGAIN for me and whatnot)

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

i too fisted someone this year

lmao jk but it does appear all the fucking time, especially the pop culture/music mentions and when they’re particularly dumb

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

watch porn, it helps

but seriously: don’t give a shit what others might think about your work, about popularity or whatever the fuck. just write it for you and if someone wants to read it with you fuck yea they winning but this baby is yours and yours alone so don’t mind about being a hype or if it’s good or not. what matters is that u wrote it so kudos to you for your effort

also, never forget fandoms love to love bs so sometimes..... things that are famous...... are worse........

and just embrace your weirdness and go for your own brand and do you

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

oooooh boy yes 

i got a marcel exchange to do that i wanna write asap (tbh i have to lmao)

the i got a star trek au for @hrrytomlinson that god only knows how i’ll fit in between my other shit sorry kiddo i’m postponing that due date already haha

then i got a gift for @twoghostsacoustic that she has no idea what it’s about

then i got ruby woo part 2, the storyteller, u#28, my abo and my beatles au that are all fics that i’m dying to write

and fuck knows what else is in store lmao

also i’d love to write for other fandoms

and to like maybe take writing serious for once lmaooooooooo

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read

honestly i lowkey tagged a lot of people while writing this haha so i’ve rigged the game and am tagging them but lemme see @rosegoldhl wassup binch @smellofsunshine to inspire you to write more haha and @threeandsixseconds @fireawaynjh @vanillabeanniall 

honestly what are rules i got new ones and i count them ayyy

[stellar-stag]

Wow it’s been a while since I did a personal update here huh

I’ve honestly transitioned a lot of my venting/personal stuff to twitter

(I promise I havent abandoned you for my furry friends)

(I kinda have)

(I totally have)

(sorry)

But I feel like the last couple months have been a whirlwind for me, so I may as well keep y’all in the loop. I’m gonna sort these by topic.

First off, I had some issues with my romantic feelings. There’s a guy, a very very good friend, who is just fantastic in so many ways. Friendly and kind and supportive, progressive and enthusiastic, and shares so many of my interests. Seems natural that I would fall for him, right?

Well I did, and it resulted in a lot of emotional duress.

He has a girlfriend, and I knew this going in, but I didn’t fight my attachment. In the process of admitting my feelings to him and working through everything, I learned a lot about myself and got some practice in controlling my emotional state and how I react to things. But I also relied on him as an emotional crutch and used him for validation, especially during some particularly low emotional points, which is unfair to him. It is only because he is immensely understanding that we remain close friends, and this could have easily resulted in disaster.

But through this process I have grown, and identified a new issue blocking me from being of completely sound mind: Low self-esteem and reliance on others for validation. During my more anxious periods, I would slip into joking self-deprecation, and somewhere along the way it stopped being so joking. But surely, now that I’m taking meds for anxiety it would stop, right? Well, no. Turns out, even if I stopped consciously having thoughts of “Wow, I’m so bad at this”, I didn’t automatically gain appreciation or acceptance of myself. This manifests in a particularly dangerous manner when guys who are attractive are nice to me. 

I end up conflating kindness with romantic intent, and decide that obviously, if someone doesn’t have romantic interest in me, I must be irreparably flawed in some way. This is bullshit, and I consciously understand that, but my subconscious doesn’t play by the rules. So I end up in a self-loathing spiral that only manifests in periods of intense romantic desire, and a month later I’m exhausted, bruised, and have run the risk of alienating those around me who care about me.

So how to fix it? I suppose I’ll need to work on drawing validation from within, so that rejection feels less of a condemnation of my character and everything I am. It won’t be simple, to be sure, but understanding the issue is the key to overcoming it. 

Here’s hoping.

Secondly: I started working out! As of today, March 24th, I have been to the gym 12 times this month (half the days, holy shit) and thats because I, last week, decided to go from 3 workouts a week to 5, solely because I wanted to. If you told me a year ago that I would, of sound mind and body and my own volition, wake up every weekday at 5:45am to go workout for an hour, and enjoy the experience, I would have called you a liar. 

But I am, and I do. I think it’s benefitting my mental health and self confidence, and I’m thankful that I’m in a place where its even an option. This is only possible due to a coalition of so many factors: A free gym in my office and a natural predilection to waking up early to remove barriers, I started taking Vyvanse in January to aid in my attention issues (not sure if I have ADD/ADHD or what, but it’s helping me remained focused in all aspects of my life and for that I am grateful). And, of course, two people who aided in the impetus for beginning and making it a habit: My dad, for giving me crippling self-worth issues my entire life and then visiting in February and criticizing my health and weight (because I was sweating after walking up a hill, which more and more I realize is not actually an indicator of my exertion! I am just a person who sweats easily, and its more a function of temperature and endocrine system than anything else) and giving me the sheer spite to begin working out, and the guy I was crushing on (who is intensely into working out, and I wanted to impress him. Yeah, I was hella thirsty. Sue me). 

Regardless of the reasoning, I found that (once I cut cardio because seriously, fuck cardio), I enjoy working out in the mornings. It’s calming to wake up by exertion and then cool down slowly at my desk before other people even wake up. It’s given rise to a ritual of sorts where I get to my desk, deal with my emails, make breakfast and tea, all before anyone shows up, so that I can really hit the ground running. And more than that, I don’t have a goal in mind. I’m doing this because I know it’s good for me and I want to be healthy, and I enjoy the exertion and following “good” tiredness. If I was trying to lose weight or trim  fat, or stuck only to cardio, I would have given up by now. But its a habit, and I love it, and I’m sleeping better, eating better, and feeling better.

Again, this is only possible because of an alignment of several factors, but I’m thankful for it, and I’m glad I got out of the mindset that “workouts must suck but people do them because they wanna lose weight”. You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to do, and I wish I had realized that sooner. Im feeling way better about my body, even, because despite the fact that I haven’t lost weight or gotten trimmer from working out, I know I’m eating (pretty) well and working out, and that my body does everything I need it to. I can take pride in the callouses on my hands and the soreness of my body, because they’re proof of dedication, exertion, and effort, and those are way better things to feel good about than shape and size, anyways. If people think I’m unhealthy because I have fat, they can suck it.

Thirdly, I’ve begun looking for a condo to buy! Housing in the bay area is STUPID EXPENSIVE (and yes everyone knows this, and I know this, but it bears repeating). But I can put a down payment on a one bedroom in a good location, and I’m prequalified for a loan, and I just need to keep waiting and pouncing on leads. I think I’ll be happier living by myself with a kitchen to myself, and still going out to social events to prevent becoming a hermit. Plus, with this setup I can maybe bring dudes back and not have to show them the pigsty that is our living room or the shoebox that is my bedroom. I was terrified at the start of this process, but my mom and the realtor have been awesome about taking this step by step and ensuring nothing is confusing or surprising, which is sweet.

Fourthly, possibly because I’ve been taking Vyvanse but also possibly because I’ve finally begun understanding what the hell I’ve been doing, I’ve really hit my groove at work. The project I’m working on is complex but interesting, challenging but well understood, and I don’t feel alone but still get to feel a sense of ownership. It’s not the most fulfilling thing ever (I don’t know that working on payments platforms for a corporation ever will be) but I enjoy work, I don’t loathe going to work, and despite the fact that I was sick as a dog all this week, I came in everyday (after working out) to work full productive days, and I was happy at the end of each of them, more or less. Its not perfect but its head and shoulders above what most people get from their jobs, and I’m immensely fortunate to be in this position.

Fifthly, this is more a continuation of already known things, but I’m making cool friends in the furry fandom. I’ve made good friends, some who I hope I will keep as friends for the rest of my life, and I’ve already made plans to go to Reno in June and Disneyworld in November to hang out and have fun with them. As nerve wracking as being an adult is sometimes, the freedom is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. 

Sixthly, I’ve been taking a creative writing workshop in SF! It finished last weekend and I’m happy to not need to commute each week anymore, but I learned a lot about reading like a writer and choices you can make as a writer to achieve desired effects. The workshop focuses on narrators and how who is telling the story tells it, and the model they use for exercises is SO HELPFUL. We would read an excerpt of something, discuss how the narrator/choices/tense/mood all work together, and then we would write something in a similar format about whatever we wanted. Lemme tell yall, that is so much more helpful to me as a student than just prompts. Having a guide to format is like drawing from references, its helpful and and great for learning and gives you the tools to make your own things later on. I highly recommend it, and I can’t wait to get back to my book. 

Got a lot of art to make first, though. I’ve definitely improved a lot in artistic skill and confidence, and I’m loving finding niche styles that I like and mimicking them. The stained glass pic I posted yesterday is proof of that, I feel. Its drawn from Mucha and various real life stained glass windows and a bit from Kingdom Hearts, but I took these and the tools at my disposal and wove it into something that feels complete. I figured out how to apply a cloudy “glass” texture, glows, stabilization, symmetry tools, pattern design, and more all through the process, and I know theres so much room to iterate and grow, in shading and coloring and proportion. But even knowing I have room to grow, I’m proud of what I put out and I put a lot of my heart into that piece (yes, its a birthday gift for workout boy. Shut up). I think I’m going to accept commissions for pictures in this style, even. It’s great fun.

So yeah, the last couple of months have been intense. I’ve had ups and downs, but I’ve learned and grown a lot, and I think I’m in a really good place in my life right now, and I hope that every one of you achieves a similar level of peace.