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Christmas sucks, because the Camaro is cold.

Billy watches his breath form little clouds. That's the only reason. He's got everything he needs right here. A blanket, a book and a bottle of his best friend Jack. Maybe he'd like a cookie, it's the holidays after all, but he's got to stay in shape anyway and can't give Neil a reason to push him around some more.

There's a knock on his window. It's a tall man with a beard and glasses, wearing an ushanka.

"I know what you're doing, boy."

"What the fuck, dude?" Billy frowns. Christmas sucks, because the wrong people won't leave him alone. There's a little kid inside him that's scared. Scared of strangers, scared of men that are even taller than his dad.

"You're plotting something. I know, I know, they build that fancy ass Starcourt mall, the peak of capitalism and you'd just like to take it down, right?"

Billy blinks. Wonders if he's half asleep already, caught in some weird fever dream. "What?"

The guy laughs. "Sorry, that was just a test."

"A test," Billy echoes. Are there any normal people living in Indiana? "For what?"

"To see if you're safe to talk to," the man says if Billy is the biggest idiot missing the most obvious thing in the world.

It doesn't make any sense to him. Billy hasn't ever been safe, how would he know what that means? And why would a stranger care? He's probably crazy, the kid inside him whispers. He's bigger than Neil and crazy.

"You know, your car is really nice and all. But it's Christmas and you've been here for four days and..."

"Have you been watching me?" Billy sits up, clinging onto the little bit of rage lighting up inside him. It's warming him a little.

"The usual observation of unusual occurrences in the area my friends live in." The man shrugs. "I've got a warehouse in Sesser. It's warm."

"A what?" His rages gets overwritten by more confusion.

"There will be pirozhki." The man seems to think a moment. "You can invite Steve! You like Steve, right?"

The man has been watching him. Steve met him here two days ago. Did he seem them? God, Billy is such an idiot. Meeting at the quarry, thinking no one would see. Billy is so dead.

"It's fine," the man says. "You like Steve, I like Alexei."

"Who's that?" Billy asks. His head is dizzy, like he already drank that bottle of whiskey.

"My..." The guy pauses. "My Steve, I guess."

Oh. He never met anyone who was... like that. Like him. It's a comforting thought. Like a blanket. Billy probably shouldn't go to stranger's warehouses, but Christmas sucks - because the Camaro is cold and he'd really like not to be alone.

"I'll talk to Steve first," Billy says. He doesn't want to end up murdered in some place called Sesser.

The man nods. "It's good not to trust easy."

Billy snorts. Yeah, tell him about that. He wonders if he's about to spend Christmas with a crazy guy and his partner. And whatever pirozhki are.

"I don't even know your name."

"Murray."

Murray stretches out his hand.

"Billy."

Billy takes it.

For me Voldemort knows many languages ​​(for example French seeing his anagram) but his favorite is Latin and in fact he loves using Latin words and tried to create an anagram in Latin before discovering that no name that came out satisfied him.

billy meets andy in fourth grade.

andy’s a year older than the rest of the class and doesn’t ever talk.

billy gets paired with him for a project and andy doesn’t move. billy stands up and calls his name but he still doesn’t turn around.

“andy’s deaf, billy.” ms. mackenzie tells him.

“oh.” billy’s eyes widen. he’s stumped, for a moment. “um. how do i…”

billy trails off. not sure what he wants to ask, exactly.

“just make sure he can read your lips.”

billy nods. he walks over to stand in front of andy and holds out a hand. like he sees adults do. andy raises his eyebrows but takes billy’s hand. shakes it. billy tells him his name and andy smiles.

andy’s taller than billy. most people are but billy still whales on anyone who makes fun of andy. billy’s small, sure. but he’s scrappy.

he’s sitting outside the principals office with mark p’s blood on his knuckles when andy walks past. billy pulls a face and andy laughs.

billy likes it when andy laughs.

andy uses sign language to talk to his sister and his aunt.

teaches billy, when he asks.

billy shows some of it to his mom. teaches her how to tuck her two middle fingers down, index and little finger pointed skyward and thumb sticking out.

“like this?” she asks, forehead creased in concentration.

“uh-huh.” billy smiles. puffs out his chest. proud. “it means ‘i love you.’”

billy’s walking andy home when andy points up at the stars dotting a purple sky. signs pretty. billy walks right into him when he suddenly stops walking.

andy catches billy when he stumbles.

sand shifts beneath billy’s feet as he leans up on his toes to kiss andy. it’s childish. a quick peck, awkward and clumsy. billy doesn’t really know why he did it but andy doesn’t frown or push billy away.

he smiles, instead.

signs pretty again and hugs billy tight.

billy’s mom leaves and neil loses his job. they move away and billy doesn’t see andy again. neil calls him words that didn’t exist in andy’s world.

when billy’s seventeen, neil packs up again. takes him, max and susan to hawkins. neil’s family. and billy.

billy locks eyes with steve harrington across the parking lot in september. gets on his knees and blows him in tina’s parents guest bathroom in october.

steve corners him in the showers after practice the next day. reopens the split on billy’s lip and gets blood all over his own.

they communicate with hands, mostly. grabbing, pushing, pulling. jerking each other off in the backseat of steve’s car. fists come in to play when billy finds steve in a house alone with a bunch of kids, max included.

billy’s bruises are somehow worse a week later and steve tells him to come over that evening. doesn’t ask. just tells.

billy sneers. spits and swears at steve.

rocks on his heels as he waits on the harrington’s doorstep at 9:15.

“you’re late.” steve says.

billy doesn’t say anything. doesn’t need to.

something changes after that. steve fucks billy in his plaid nightmare of a room and drags him to the bathroom to dab at his cuts and scrapes right after.

brushes the backs of his knuckles across bruised ribs and frowns.

billy tugs at his hair and brings their lips together. almost gentle.

it’s too fragile for a name, whatever they have.

it’s summer when billy first mentions andy. billy’s sitting on steve’s bed and steve’s looking at him in the way that he does whenever billy reveals a part of himself. eager to soak it up and bask in it.

billy shows steve how to sign his name. how to say please and thank you, bitch and motherfucker.

“what’s-” steve’s hair has fallen over his forehead and billy reaches out to brush it back. unthinking. “what’s ‘i love you’?”

billy freezes.

his heart pounds. they haven’t- they don’t-

“you sweet on someone, harrington?” teasing is easy and billy’s a coward.

“oh, you know.” steve shrugs and it would be casual if he wasn’t looking at billy like that. “kinda.”

“yeah?” billy looks away. focuses on steve’s boxers which billy knows have been in that exact spot on the floor for the last three days. “anyone i know?”

“you might.”

billy shakes his head, grins. “hot?” he asks.

steve just nods, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he edges his fingers towards billy’s on the comforter until they’re intertwined.

billy opens his mouth but steve leans forward and kisses the next smart ass response right off of his lips. winds long fingers into his hair and steals billy’s breath away.

makes his stomach do flips in that way that only steve can.

billy leaves with a smile on his face.

something crashes into his car on the drive back and everything goes dark.

five months, a ‘mall fire’, a shadow monster and seemingly endless hours stuck in a hospital bed later, billy finds himself in a house straight out of texas chainsaw, standing next to max as everyone debates on what to do next.

billy keeps quiet. doesn’t have much to say these days. he bites at his lower lip before looking across the room at steve.

steve smiles at him. something small and private.

everyone’s talking, no one’s paying attention to them.

steve raises his right hand. tucks his two middle fingers down and points the other two toward the ceiling, thumb sticking out.

billy’s cheeks flush and his heart pounds.

thinks it might jump right out of his chest if he isn’t careful.

his stomach does somersaults and he vows that if they get out of this, he’ll tell steve.

he’ll tell him.

for now he raises his left hand. two fingers down, two up, thumb out.

remembered this old sketch of mine & im being so normal about it xx

3 components of worldbuilding:

1. The author’s kinks

2. The author’s power fantasy

3. The author’s political agenda

Plot and logic optional

listen i get ppl are deeply into the whole “voldemort is far more powerful than harry”-thing because yeah, he is, but i also think harry should be allowed to bully him extensively. ‘powerplay this’, ‘powerplay that’ no! harry has no urge to be more powerful than voldemort! harry just wants to bully him!

doesn’t matter if harry ends up on his arm or through some convoluted fanfic logic in his head during the events of the series after he passes. harry’s sole goal is Ridicule The Dark Lord. he reminds voldemort daily that he got beaten by 1) a baby, 2) an 11yo boy with fire hands (apparently), 3) a 12yo boy with a sword and one (1) fang, 4) a 14yo boy who could run really quickly, and 5) a 17yo, malnourished, exhausted boy with a borrowed wand. he tells voldemort repeatedly that vee’s 15yo self bragged to harry’s 12yo self (no sword or fang yet) that he decided on his name change via anagram, like it’s cool. he reminds voldemort often that “lord flight from death” is a bit on the nose for a new name. he always says that whatever voldemort does is “no friend behaviour”. he tells voldemort things like “you know all of your followers except bella and barty would sell you to the devil for one corn chip right” and voldemort, without fail, will think “NO. THAT’S THE THING I’M SENSITIVE ABOUT”. he’s yelling “HA CRINGEE” about everything voldemort does. it’s devastating.

@jewishvoiceforpeace

"Today marks one year since the death of the People’s Bubbie Shatzi Weisberger. Before she passed, she said, “I’ll fight like hell for a free Palestine until the day I die. Then I’ll keep fighting. Your queer ancestor is with you.”

If you’ve been rising up in solidarity with Palestine these past two months, your queer ancestor is indeed with you, along with countless other antizionist Jewish ancestors. For many, family and community rifts may be especially painful right now. No matter what, you are not alone. Remember that you have a long lineage of elders and ancestors at your back.

Last night, Israel resumed its brutal bombing of Gaza and has already killed dozens of people. Shatzi would encourage all of us to do everything we can right now for a permanent, lasting ceasefire. To mourn the dead and fight like hell for the living.

Shatzi died on World AIDS Day, which was b’sheret ("destined”) because in addition to being a lifelong organizer, she was a nurse for 47 years who cared for people living and dying with AIDS.

From ACT UP’s organizing to end AIDS to the movement for Palestinian freedom, we honor the ancestors and movements who made us possible."

We will be forever grateful to the ancestors who paved the path before us. May their memories fuel us to work towards freedom for all people — no exceptions."

If the garden it all ends with isn’t the garden of Crowley's and Aziraphale's cottage, I'll combust into flames.

how does Harry feel about the “I’ve come to collect you from the orphanage” role play?

harry has no proper dramatic sense, i fear, so he ruins the vibe by saying "i love you" and refusing to do the correct voice to be tom riddle sr.

tom riddle jr. has a much finer grasp of theatricality, so he takes his job as sirius in their "once i'm exonerated we can live together" role-play and as cedric in their "gargle my bathwater" role-play seriously.