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Ihni Andern

@ihni / ihni.tumblr.com

Legal adult since many years. Aro. Ace. Also, important note: I AM TERRIBLE WITH NAMES. If you've changed your url, I will not recognize you. These are just the facts. I'm sorry. I tend to follow talented people, and reblog their stuff. (Also, sometimes I post things that I do. Or write. Or, you know, draw.) New favourite way to spend money: commission talented people whose work I love to draw or write things that I want to see. (Because it generates more fanworks, which is a good thing, and I support people that I am in awe of, which is ALSO a good thing.)
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I love it when my creativity spurs other creativity. literally no better feeling as an artist than when someone looks at something you’ve made and goes “I saw this and liked it so much I could do nothing more with myself than turn it into drive for my own creativity” like that’s really what creativity is huh!! an instrument to further human expression and community and connection 

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Billy knows his dad doesn't act like a dad.

Has known from the first moment when Neil's hand slipped for the first time. Gets reminded everyday, when he's a girl, a loser, a faggot and never a son.

He thought it was just words and bruises that made it bad. He should actually be lucky to even have a dad at all. Where would he be without Neil?

Steve's eyes, wide and horrified, tell him something else. It makes Billy uncomfortable, in a way the school nurse back in California did, when she asked him if he's got a safe place to go to and he didn't have an answer, because he was nine and scared.

"What?" Steve says. His voice got an edge like he's choking up and tries not to.

"It's no biggie." Billy's got the sinking feeling he has screwed everything up, like when he told the nurse that he sometimes hides in his closet or under the kitchen sink until Neil falls asleep.

"You just told me you didn't get dinner for two nights in a row." Steve rubs his nose and Billy sees tears in his eyes. That can't be worth anybody's tears, can it? "And that you slept in your car."

"I just wanted to get out of his hair." Billy rolls his eyes. It's better to avoid Neil's moods. He's glad he's got the Camaro. It's a fucking privilege. Maybe rich guys like Steve don't get that.

"Yeah?" Steve squints his eyes. "What did he say?"

"Get out," Billy repeats. Cuts himself off before he can add the "fucking pussy" Neil screamed. Maybe it wasn't even that. Neil screams a lot, way too much that Billy can remember it all - and Steve's upset enough.

Somehow it feels like it's all Billy's fault. He shouldn't have mentioned that he's fucking hungry and relieved that he got his paycheck today.

Steve sucks in a deep breath. Leans forward and Billy digs his fingers in his palms, trying not to flinch. It's a reflex. Whenever someone is angry, he's all tense, like he's about to be stretched apart any second.

Steve presses a kiss on Billy's cheek.

"You can always come here," he says. "Always."

It's a lie, something inside Billy whispers. He'll get tired of you. Even your mother did leave you.

"I'll give you the spare key," Steve promises. "You don't have to sleep outside."

"Why would you do that?" Billy asks, brows furrowed. If Steve isn't home, they can't have sex and that's all Billy is probably good for.

"I want you safe, baby." Steve flushes. "Billy, I mean."

He rubs his neck. "I'll make us dinner, okay?"

Every word feels like hug. Billy's chest grows warm. "Okay."

Maybe he will have a place to go to after all.

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Anonymous asked:

Hi, I’m sorry you’re sick and I hope you feel better. I’ve never read Billy and Argyle but I really need Argyle to call Billy a good boy again if you’re up for it 🥹

Some days pain burns Billy from the inside and he aches. It's not even that Neil did anything. It's more what he said to Billy and that's not even new, the same old rants about Billy being a disappointment, a regret and worthless.

Some days Billy thinks the old man is wrong. Most of the day he's pretty sure Neil is right.

He sits in Argyle's van, in the midst of plush pillows and colorful blankets, the faint smoke of weed tickling his nose. It's too soft, too warm, too safe.

Argyle squints his eyes at him. His long black hair falling in front of his face, before Billy can read the expression on it.

"What's wrong, my dude?"

"Nothing," Billy huffs and even he can hear the edge of his own voice. He stares at his crossed legs.

"You know that's not true." Argyle shakes his head. His fingers touch Billy's chin. Featherlight, careful - all the things he doesn't need to be around Billy.

"C'mon, tell the truth." Argyle's eyes are dark, reminding Billy of a moonless summer night.

Billy's lips are glued together, from all the times he wasn't allowed to talk about slaps and belts.

"C'mon," Argyle repeats. Patient, he's always patient with Billy. "Can you be a good boy for me?"

Okay, so it's graduation time in my town, and where I live it is customary for the 12th grade students to celebrate by piling into a truck bed (decorated by flags and signs and young birches and balloons), class by class, and be driven around town, shouting and yelling and singing (and drinking) and just celebrating the end of school. Most are dressed in white, wearing their student hats, with flowers and tiny stuffed animals and small bottles hung around their necks by their loved ones ...

... and it made me think of Swedish Billy, and now I'm kinda imagining him as being brought back to Sweden to live with his grandparents after season 3, after he recovered and Neil left, and doing his last year of (the equivalent of) high school there, and getting to graduate just like that.

I just need him happy and yelling and celebrating on a decorated truck bed with his peers while strangers smile indulgently at them, okay?