Keep your temper. - Держите себя в руках. He’s jumpy. - Его все раздражает. It’s getting on my nerves. - Это действует мне на нервы./Это играет с моими нервами What’s got into you? - Что на вас нашло?/ Что с тобой не так? What is it now? - Ну, что еще? What next? - Ну, а дальше что? / И что теперь? It’s none of your business. - Это не твое дело./ Это тебя не касается So what? - Ну и что? / Что с того?
NOBODY TALKS ABOUT MARE AND MAD AND THAT MAKES ME SAD SO HERE WE GO
Mare (Natemare) Natewantstobattle ego. He’s a siren, his singing can shift emotions. He can also shift into a smoke form (most of this i got from @freckled-words go check her out i love her)
He’s pretty much a playboy, v horny a lot of the time. He’s mischievous, playful, cocky, etc.
Madpat (this one is completely my interpretation) He’s the character Matpat plays in the fnaf musical. A pyromaniac that sometimes dresses in a teddy bear costume with a flamethrower. (sounds weird when you type it out like that). He’s reckless, eccentric, smart, not-very-well-spoken, extremely cocky, etc.
these two… i ship them so hard. So have a bunch of random HCs about them
Mare loves listening to Mad rant. He gets extremely passionate and expressive and he’s adorable when he’s stumbling over his words trying to get a point across. He has a tendency to ramble on and on and Mare does not mind at all. He’s an interesting nerd to listen to.
Nicknames for Mad include “Nerd” “Bear” “Geek” “Lover” “Spark” “Pyro” and “Teddy”.
Nicknames for Mare include “Smokey” and “Stallion” (Mad’s not really good at nicknames. Mare doesn’t even get where “Stallion” came from, but he loves it)
Mare ALWAYS has to pull Mad away from his work cause he can get VERY obsessive.
I’ll add more when i think of some cause i love this ship so much
Once you got home, you found you were alone. You took your piece of cake that Ida had bagged up for you and put it in the fridge. You started the task of getting your hair manageable for bed, taking your makeup off and getting out of your dress to get into comfortable pajamas. Your phone indicated you still didn’t have any missed communication from Jeremy.
Ravenclaws are very happy that their dormitory is in a tower. Most of the windows can be climbed out of and they pull themselves onto the roof. They don’t do it like the Gryffindors do, for bravery, but for solitude. There is an unspoken rule that if a Ravenclaw sees another Ravenclaw on the roof, they don’t talk. On the roof or afterwards. It’s a safe space. Sometimes it’s where Ravenclaws be the teenagers they are and smoke, while sometimes it’s a peaceful place to just read. If a Ravenclaw is sitting on the roof crying, any other Ravenclaw, friend or not, will go and sit on the roof with them until they calm down. And another unspoken rule is that if someone sat on the roof and cried more than twice in a week, they have to talk to someone about it, a friend, a professor, or Madam Pomfrey. This is what once led a third year Ravenclaw to march a first year Gryffindor, who had somehow made his way on the roof of Ravenclaw Tower, to Professor McGonagall. He thought he was in trouble, but became very confused when he was simply asked how he felt.
Summary: Billy finds companionship in his next-door neighbor after she witnesses him being punched by his father.
Author’s Note: The things being broken are hearts. Just so you know. Just short of 4k words
REQUESTS OPEN! FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!
A new family had moved in next door nearly a year earlier. The Hargroves. I suspected they were a blended family, judging by how the siblings got along. Max, a girl, couldn’t be older than 14. She rode her skateboard around the block all the time. She came off as polite, but spunky. Her mother was also very proper, quiet and reserved.
Billy was the oldest sibling, my age. He had a hot rod car and a bad attitude. Although, he played it up more than he cared to admit. When the family came over to introduce themselves, he offered me a modest smirk, shaking my hand.
Come to learn that this was how Billy treated everybody. When he was in front of his parents, anyway. Without the oversight of his father, he was a crude, callous boy. Despite his prickly personality, he managed to win over the hearts of every girl in the school. Turns out teenagers really value the important life skill of being able to do the longest keg stand in Hawkins history.
With the Hargrove’s arrival came a few new echoes in the neighborhood. A skateboard on the asphalt, the rumble of a car engine… and screaming.
Every day, at eight o’clock in the evening on the dot, the screaming started. Short, sporadic bursts of hollering came throughout the day and continued into the night. But eight o’clock was invariably the loudest. A male voice, occasionally two, could be heard rattling the walls of the Hargrove’s house. But the second voice always quieted, frequently punctuated with a bang. Occasionally accompanied by Billy staggering out to his car and speeding off down the road.
Tonight, at eight o’clock, the screaming started again. It could be heard from my kitchen window. I could see into the Hargrove’s kitchen from there. Nothing much exciting ever went on, other than the occasional appearance of Mrs. Hargrove doing the dishes.
But this time, I noticed Billy. Neil had him pinned up against the fridge, some of the magnets had bounced to the floor. His father stuck an accusing finger in his face, ultimately forcing his closed fist across Billy’s cheek.
Billy instinctively reached up, cupping his face where he had been struck. This was followed by a terse conversation, leading to Billy picking the magnets up off the floor before heading to the front door.
Summary: Billy takes interest in a girl who has to keep it secret from her family. The Wheelers.
Author’s Note: This shit took me forever to write, oh my god! 4k + words, my dears. Get a snack and get cozy.
REQUESTS OPEN FEEDBACK APPRECIATED
“Billy!” I exclaimed as he captured me around the waist and tugged me behind his locker door.
Billy and I had been flirting back and forth for a while now. I thought when he first approached me that he only wanted to get under Steve’s skin by dating his girlfriend’s younger sister. But after Steve and Nancy broke up, he kept on flirting.
He had yet to kiss me, even though he came close many, many, times. He was a tease, and he knew it. He also knew that I wasn’t self-confident enough to make the first move, so he went on teasing.
His lips would brush my cheek, in towards my nose, and suddenly he would pull back. He loved to watch my cheeks go red, always pulling away with his trademark smirk.
“Missed you yesterday.” He told me, keeping his arms around my waist and tucking his head on my shoulder.
“Mhmm.” I hummed, “Family thing.”
I had gone with Nancy to visit Barb’s parents after school. Despite the lack of clues in Barb’s disappearance, they hadn’t given up hope on finding their daughter. Nancy and I both considered them to be like a second family. And I think they enjoy having girls in the house, another child to parent in Barb’s absence.
omg those christmas aus - “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside” or “drunken caroling” - or both?? for any set of characters you wish??
LATE LATE LATE snowed in christmas eve fic, idek what’s happening here but there are dogs!
It’s not that Stiles hates
his neighbor. Sure, he’s a huge jerkface who wears leather jackets, douchy
sunglasses and routinely tries to murder Stiles with his eyes. He calls Roscoe
a hunk of garbage. He’s got a
bombshell probably-girlfriend, Erica, who likes to snap her teeth at Stiles and
call him Bambi. He once grabbed Stiles by the scruff of his neck and growled in
his face about, uh, a missing newspaper or handprints on his Camaro or
something—Stiles was definitely not too
turned on to listen properly, and who drives a fucking Camaro in a place where
it snows sixty percent of the year round?
But Stiles doesn’t hate him. He’s not sure he’s capable of
hating someone that smoking hot. Not to mention the fact that he owns dogs.
Kira shrugs a little
and says, “He’s nice to me.”
“Then why don’t you
go ask him for a cup of milk,” Stiles says, staring morosely down at the empty
“I’m not the one in
desperate need of Lucky Charms. Also,” she swings her bag up onto her shoulder,
“I’ve got a bus to catch.” Her grin is cheeky, but the way she trips over the
rest of her luggage kind of ruins the effect.
Stiles sighs and
says, “If you’d wait a couple days, I can just drive us both.” They’ve got three
days until Christmas—plenty of time to drive the mere five hours back to Beacon
There’s a break in
the mountain weather, though—wind chill holding steady at a balmy 21 degrees,
the sun glare even making the snow melt into slick black ice for fun nighttime
driving—and Kira’s not going to tempt fate. Stiles wishes he could leave today too, if
only to save him from having to ask Derek Fucking Hale for cereal milk. Unfortunately,
he volunteered to take shifts right up until Christmas Eve, like an asshole.
“The bus always
smells like feet,” Stiles tries one last time.
Kira just cages his
face in her hands and tugs him down for a forehead kiss.
Stiles slumps into
her hold and says, “Tell Scott I love him.”
“Will do, peaches.”
She bounces on the balls of her feet right out the front door, slips down the
icy steps with a, “Crap, oops,”—Stiles holds his breath, arms out and legs
locked, he wouldn’t get to her in time, anyway—and is caught by the strong,
manly arms of Derek, who swoops in with nearly preternatural speed, Christ.
His dogs, Josh and
Pongo, take advantage of the dropped leashes and wiggle their furry butts right
up the front stoop to sniff at Stiles’s crotch and then make themselves at home
on his sofa. They’re both doofy lab mixes that ruin Derek’s street cred by
routinely eating paper towels and hacking them up on Stiles and Kira’s
Derek says, “Are you
okay?” with this deep eyebrow v of concern that makes Stiles want to puke.
He’s almost ninety
percent sure Derek has an inappropriate crush on Kira, and that his
The sad part is that
Kira’s going to be moving home when her journalism internship at Hollow Moon Times is done with, but
Stiles will still be stuck out in the boonies for the foreseeable future.
No matter what his
dad says, he doesn’t see how being the under-sheriff of a sleepy little
mountain town can give him real policing experience. While there’s a slim
chance Moon’s Hollow is a hotbed of secret mayhem, Stiles was forced to arrest
an overweight raccoon last month, and Tim Gareth seems to vandalize the Wolf’s
Den pub’s singular bathroom regularly with forestry propaganda just so Kira can
Kira straightens up
sprightly and says, “Oh, I’m fine! That was a total wipe out, thanks for
catching me.” She pats Derek’s arm as he lets her go, his face completely
flushed, either from the praise or the frigid wind. He’s probably thrilled to
have his hands on Kira. Derek Hale has perfect complexion to go with his
perfect lumberjack beard—the quality of it would be pretentious if they didn’t actually live on a mountain.
Stiles has basically
been a wind-chapped tomato for the entire five months he’s been living here. He
can’t grow even the tiniest bit of well-groomed scruff to save his life, so it’s
either look like a patchy bum, wear a ski-mask, or hope that in five years
he’ll have the weathered skin of an Alaskan bushman.
None of his options
are appealing. He should adopt some Norwegian skincare regimens.
Derek glares over his
shoulder at Stiles and whistles for Josh and Pongo, who ignore him in favor of
licking the top of Stiles’s coffee table.
Stiles sighs and
steps into his boots. He says, “Come on, assholes,” as he grabs his coat.
Pongo barks at him
and then disappears into the kitchen.
Stiles jabs a finger
at Josh, currently wriggling under Kira’s favorite afghan, and says, “You
better not eat my TV remote again,” before pulling the door closed behind him.
“What are you doing, Stiles?”
“We are going to walk Kira down to the bus stop, and then you are going to give me a cup of milk,
and we’ll call any damage your monsters do to my kitchen trashcan an even trade.”
Kira says, “I’m fine,
though. But, uh,” she frowns down at her three bags, “some help would be great.”