Don’t Fuck With Me

• Billy Hargrove RP • • Elbow Grease RP • 18+ •

[hcrgrcve]

WHAT DID YOUR CHARACTER BRING BACK TO CAMP WITH THEM:

A metric fuckton of weed, a 30 pack, and a handle of vodka. Susan baked him cookies, so he brought those too, even though he prefers oatmeal raisin. It was nice of her, or something. Whatever. He also grabbed some warmer clothes and stole some of Max’s books because what else is there to do at the camp? He managed to snag a solar charger for his phone, too. 

WHAT DID YOUR CHARACTER DO WHEN THEY GOT BACK TO CIVILIZATION:

Billy met up with Karen Wheeler, his on-again, off-again sugar momma or something, he didn’t really know. He fucked her real nice and she gave him nice things, like a solar charger for his phone that she just happened to see and thought of him. 

And then he went home, to see about getting his car back from Max, grab a couple things, and get the shit beaten out of him by Neil. He managed to get by without any marks on his face, but he’s got a nasty gash on his abdomen, that probably should’ve been stitched, and a wild array of bruises but...he’s had worse. 

WHAT’S BEEN THE BIGGEST ADJUSTMENT OF CAMP LIFE?

Billy hates not being able to get in his car and drive away. It’s not that he wants to like, run away, or some dramatic shit like that, (though he probably would, if he thought he could get away with it, and if it wouldn’t reflect poorly on Susan, respect and responsibility). He just likes to drive when he’s pissed off, or feeling riled up, or just needs to think. Being so stuck is starting to get on his nerves. 

Billy hasn’t really found anyone he actually likes. There’s Evans, who’ll do in a pinch, and he’s not sold on Granger, but she’s also not nearly as bad as that creepy little vampire boy. Point is, he misses the bimbos and the club scene and being able to fuck whoever was willing and nearby. Man’s got needs, alright, and they are currently not being seen to. 

HOW ARE THEY HOLDING UP?

Billy will always just keep chugging along. Shit sucks, okay? He’s got exactly .5 friends in this shit hole, he’s not fucking anything on the regular, his Maxine is doing who the fuck knows what with his car, and he’s been here exactly one week. It s u c k s. But the journey back “home” proved that bumfuck nowhere is a thousand times better than what’s waiting for him at the end of this shit. He’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts. 

ANY HOT GOSS?

He was beaten by his dad, and he slept with a hot soccer mom, but that’s about it. He’s selling the weed, too, feel free to spread that shit around, please and thanks. 

[hcrgrcve]

thebrightestwltch:

        Ah. He meant the smell. Right. Charming. Hermione attempted to hide her displeasure at his general commentary, though it hardly did her any good. “Right, well, can’t say I have any first hand experience with that.” She suspected Billy’s mind was just as foul as his mouth, though she truly didn’t want to confirm that suspicion as the discomfort was already growing, and yet, she still tried to dial it back fear of being that girl all summer. 

        However … Having a legitimate, honest to god conversation, seemed unlikely at this point considering a one track mind was confirmed and she found herself struggling to reply to anything he said without outright distaste. “I think you’re a little rusty.” If this was the practice run, she didn’t want to see a true attempt. “I beg your pardon?” Hermione’s brow peaked, “I’d rather call it quits with the spray paint entirely,” And the questions, or the conversation as a whole. 

        Hermione side stepped, narrowly missing the can of spray paint; not making the slightest move to catch it. “I’m not much of an artist myself, and it’ll just mean more work for us when we’re actually having to repaint this place.” Always logical. “I’m sure you’ve seen The Starry Night,” Well probably not, but it wasn’t her problem. “Or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.” She could go on, but what was the point right now? Hermione sighed softly, turning down to grab the can of spray paint; one less thing to pick up later. “I think I need some air, it smells repulsive in here.” Which he’d already commented on, but it was far too intense. Fully intent on leaving, Hermione first made her way to the windows, in attempts to open them. As one could imagine however, after so long, it wasn’t the easiest to budge open. “Er, can you help me with this, please?” And maybe part of her didn’t trust him with a ladder, though that was less just him, and the general population that hadn’t lifted a finger in their lives. 

“With the paint or the... other thing?” He asked, tongue in cheek, both literally and figuratively.  She deftly stepped out of the way of the can, not even so much as watching it fly her by, and his lips twitched, despite himself. She was one cool cucumber, but they’d see how long that lasted. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you’re either all work and no play, or the other way around. This in between thing is giving me mixed signals,” he drawled hopping off the ladder and strolling up to her. “What’s wrong with having a little fun before we get all dirty, hm?” He watched as she strode away, eyes going to one place, and one place only. If she wasn’t going to be any fun, he’d just have to make his own. 

“I could help you,” he murmured, scraping off some chipping paint at the bottom of the window sill with his thumb. “But I don’t do anything for free.” 

[hcrgrcve]

booze and bruises | ron weasley

He hadn’t been home long, had only stopped by long enough to grab a few more sweatshirts and swipe a few of Max’s books, but it’d been more than long enough. Neil had been home, and now Billy was nursing a nasty gash right on his kidney from Neil’s ring. 

They were back at camp now, and Billy didn’t even know whether he was glad or pissed about it. Anywhere had to be better than home. According to the schedule, they were even supposed to get the plumbing up and running in the next week or two. Which would be a fucking godsend, because right now, Billy was trying to decide whether he’d need stitches in the fucking dark, a flashlight held between his teeth. 

The community bathrooms smelled like thirty year old shit, and looked about the same, but he could hardly do this in his cabin. Closing his eyes a minute, Billy took a breath around the flashlight, and gritted his teeth. 

Then he dumped on the vodka he’d swiped. 

“Mother f u c k e r !” 

@kingwsly

[hcrgrcve]

bros before hoes | sam evans

His dad had fucking taken his car. He’d left it in parking lot C, with all the other fucking cars from the kids at the camp, and now it wasn’t here. He’d called his dad, who hadn’t answered, but Susan had promptly informed him that Max needed a car for her summer job, and Neil had decided he wouldn’t be using his anyway. Motherfuck. 

Billy kicked at the curb, gleaning no satisfaction, his steel-toed boots blunting any pain he might’ve felt. He’d arranged to meet up with this soccer mom, one of Max’s friends’ parents, Karen. She’d made eyes at him when he’d dropped Max off, and it hadn’t taken too long to convince her to give him a go-around. Billy didn’t charge her, knew she’d shy away from outright prostitution, but that didn’t stop her from showering him with monetary affection when he gave her the old sob story. 

He needed the cash, and now he had no way to get home. Unless...

Fuck, he hated his life. 

“YO, EVANS!”

@starryeyedevans

[hcrgrcve]

stolelife:

victor was perfectly aware that his attire marked him out as the cookie-cutter poster boy for ‘goth.’ here, where his family’s stern and prying looks couldn’t guilt him into a well-ironed shirt and neat trousers, he was free to don whatever baggy cargo pants and skeleton-emblazoned t-shirts he pleased, and the black nails, multiple bracelets, and long curls only enhanced the look. more than once, it had earned him a few raised eyebrows and under-the-breath whispers in the halls of the university. 

“ not the kind you’re proposing. ” in complete fairness, he was not precisely the sort who could judge anyone for quote-unquote ‘bad choices,’ as billy had put it. that, however, was a matter for another time — discussing the sort of things he got up to was not something for polite conversation, especially around a campfire. with a look of vague disinterest, he turned his gaze away from billy and began to inspect his nails, which, to his dissatisfaction, were already caked with dirt. by the time the summer was over, the lot of them would look like they all rolled in pigsties, at this rate. 

“Shame,” Billy drawled. Come to think of it, the earrings were kind of working for him. The rest of it was dubious, but Billy could be magnanimous. But then the kid turned away from him, like he was too good for Billy, fucking snob, and Billy gritted his teeth, trying in vain to disguise how much that bothered him. He wished he was under a car, under some hot cunt with a pair of c-cups, jesus, he wished he was back at school. 

This summer was going to suck. 

“So what, is this whole—” he gestured to all of Victor, “—get up, like... a thing. You like a satanist or some shit? I thought they were into orgies and dead bodies and shit.” Billy leaned forward in his chair, knowing he was being a dick, and not giving a rat’s ass. This rich prick wanted to act like the sun shined outta his ass, well fine. Billy considered it his civic duty to correct him. “Ever fuck a dead body?”

“Kinky motherfucker. I bet you have.”

[hcrgrcve]

pianokeysandbowties:

“Have any luck on checking off one of the very descriptive items on your list?”  Blaine asked the guy who looked so put out for listening to them organizing what was going to happen and make things functional, instead of everyone running around not knowing what they were doing, that he could only stick around for minutes before wandering off.  He was four rungs up on a ladder with a few nails left to go on rehanging a fallen shelf..and all out nails.

Even with a question like that?  His voice was soft and curious enough that no real animosity could be heard in it.  Because it wasn’t there.  The need for help outweighed the need for snark towards the guy that could give it.  Everyone else was occupied.

Unfortunately for Billy?  They were right beside him on the table he was passing by before Blaine caught him just in time.  “Could you hand me five more of those?  I’m about done here.  Then maybe we can paint this wall.  Without sanding it down like the other four.”  Because this one wasn’t in bad shape.  Just needed some serious coats of paint to have it match the ones they lathered on it’s buddies.

“Please?  By the way?  I’m Blaine.  I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

@hcrgrcve ; eg starter call

For all that Billy did not appreciate the manual labor, this place was crawling with gays. Billy wasn’t picky, not really, cunts, cocks, assholes, mouths, made no difference to him, but the fact that he had options was always nice. 

“Batting .666. right now. Lucky number,” Billy threw out with a lewd wink in the other boy’s direction. “Could always use some help with the last one.” He licked his lips, making no mistake what option he was referring to. Knocking shit down was easy enough in this dump, and he lit a cigarette every ten fucking minutes. Not quite what he had implied, but he wasn’t about to ruin his good image. Or bad image. Whatever. So far everyone he’d met was too uppity to get close to, shame to, because he was randy as fuck. 

Billy rolled his eyes as Blaine asked for more help. He didn’t mind, not really, plus Blaine had a positively grippable ass, and had left in nicely on display for Billy, but he wasn’t going to make anything easy. He scooped up five nails, and twirled one between his fingers, eyeing it speculatively before taking a long deep drag from his cigarette. 

“What’ll you give me for ‘em?”

[hcrgrcve]

stolelife:

admittedly, even victor, who had initially been so enthusiastic for the summer, was starting to feel the tingles of regret by the time they’d all dumped their bags at the cabins and gone for orientation. he’d always been fond of nature, but he was used to having a luxurious, comfortable, well-stocked house to return to whenever he got weary of the outdoors. the dilapidated, ramshackle cabins here looked like a stiff wind was likely to blow them over. whatever victor had been expecting, this was not it. 

he, however, was content enough to keep his complaints to himself for the time being — unlike some, evidently. when billy chimed in with his remarks, victor twisted around on his seat to peer at the him with the beginnings of a frown on his face. vulgarity, he didn’t mind, but the sheer immaturity was a little annoying, especially when the rest of them were trying to get the organisation done. 

“ —you do know this part is compulsory? ”

Oh good. It wasn’t a party until some self-righteous asshole stepped in to ruin in everyone else’s fun. Billy returned the boy’s glare with a raised eyebrow—he was aware this wasn’t the 90s right? Goth simply didn’t have the same edginess it had once boasted; these days it just seemed like sad hipster leftovers. 

“Funny, see, I was under the impression this whole shit show was voluntary. Adults conning naive little children into free labor with booze and bad choices.” It was compulsory for Billy, but nobody else needed to know that. He didn’t have a problem with his reputation as a delinquent, but he also wasn’t trying to be a pack mule. 

Billy let his eyes rake over the kid, faintly amused alongside the irritation. He had skulls in his ears and enough black on that light probably disappeared when it touched him. He looked like a fucking ghoul, or something. Though, underneath that, Billy could spy an attractive body, nice enough face. Yeah, he could probably fuck him. Besides the clothes he wore hardly mattered if they were on the floor. “Not interested in bad choices?” He asked. That was awkward, considering he’d apparently decided “Knock-off Emo Edward Cullen” was a valid fashion choice. Not to mention he was here. 

[hcrgrcve]

unaplogeticallyhummel:

“ratigan? how do you not know who he is?” kurt scowled, brows pulled together in complete non-comprehension, which could also be mistaken for disgust given the subject matter. “did you not have a childhood — or?” he had no excuse whatsoever. he ignored the other smoking up because the smell was already horrendous an if he weren’t used to the years here, it would have made him recoil alone, though the rodent had already done that much. “unless you’re prepared to build another one that’s up to code, i suggest you go back to the drawing board immediately because that’s a terrible idea.”

kurt bit back a comment in regards to how billy didn’t exactly look like the type that knew how to build anything, whether it be a toy car, or a legitimate cabin. “i’ll settle for a little rhirhi, after all, i don’t think she’s doing much these days in terms of music after her last tour tanked. uncultured fools.” Kurt added in a mumble, but he did enjoy most of her albums, especially when he fell into a mood, but if they were doing this, and enduring what they were? there better have been his first two choices in some degree or another. hell, that was even a situation in which he’d happily take on the grueling work of assisting back stage, catering to whatever needs of the talent in hopes of a spare moment to professionally gush about what an inspiration they all were. 

“not to mention she does have a public affection for marijuana.” and if colorado was known for anything… “shouldn’t be too hard to get her.” though she hadn’t even crossed his mind for top five, still it was too early to set anything in stone, they still had to make it through this first. kurt rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest at the pathetic attempt to get under his skin. “by all means, if we can afford to lose anyone to rabies…” he shrugged, taking a step back with a new found annoyance dully in his eyes. 

“Some of us actually spent our childhoods outside. You know, where the germs live,” Billy quipped innocently, storming into the condemned little shack haphazardly, kicking over a molded sofa, and watching in amusement as the cloud of dust it kicked up swirled around Snow White. “Eating worms, playing in the dirt. Getting—gasp!—sunburnt.” 

Picking on the precious little princess was almost subconscious. He was busy cataloguing the room. Vermin, mildew, a collapsed roof in the far corner. He was starting to seriously consider the torching idea. “Isn’t building this place up to code like... the entire reason we’re here?” He asked, face twisting into an incredulous sneer. Not that Billy intended to do anything to that effect, but like, still. One of them looked like they couldn’t tell a hammer from a screwdriver, and it fucking wasn’t him. 

Granted, Billy’d never built a building, but honestly, he was betting cars were a lot fucking harder, and he’d slaved over his Camaro. If he had to contribute, on pain of death, at least he fucking knew what a screwdriver was. And despite his internal ode to his own masculinity, he still couldn’t help but mutter, “you don’t settle for Rhianna,” with disgust under his breath. Billy would lay down and die for that bitch. He didn’t bother to comment on the marijuana thing, just let his deep exhale do the trick for him. If this kid didn’t like weed, he was in the wrong fucking place. 

“Once bitten, twice shy?” He asked with  lewd wink. 

[hcrgrcve]

Billy’d been listening for, like, at least twenty seconds? Yeah, he doubted all of Colorado contained enough weed for him to be high enough for this shit. Something about task management and delegation teams... electing supervisors, what the actual fuck. These kids were taking this shit way too seriously. They weren’t getting fucking paid, for one, number two, there was no authority figure, and yet they wanted to elect one? Hell fucking no. 

Billy needed a joint, but he’d been ripping through his like a goddamn wildfire, and it wasn’t like he could send out for some on the next shopping list. 

Actually, not a terrible idea, honestly. 

“Right. Well, while you fuckwads compose your manifesto on how to make this summer a royal suckfest, I’m gonna go tear some shit down, set something on fire, and probably get my dick wet. Maybe not in that order. Anyone care to join me?”

[hcrgrcve]

unaplogeticallyhummel:

“dear god, please tell me that is not ratigan himself.” the disgustingly large and bulbous rodent that just took off the moment they’d stumbled into the cabin caused kurt’s nostrils to flare, eyes wide in disgust while his hand snapped to his throat, an unintentional pearl clutch as he gaped, taken back in horror. when he had signed up for this, he knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park but the glory and utter brilliance that came with being involved on such an intimate level? it felt nice to work towards something, especially when his passion (one of many) revolved around music, but boy oh boy, had he underestimated the level of decay they were dealing with. 

“if i recall correctly, he’s got an army and i’m not too eager to meet them.” this was just the beginning, but kurt would happily go without finding out, but alas. “you’ve seen the movie, right?” he question, brow peaked high. “the great mouse detective? fall to his death, my ass. i don’t trust him.” any of them. which is why he was itching to turn back, but instead he moved forward, pulling the face mask up off his neck and over both his nose and mouth because the smell was already disgusting, he didn’t need to opening the door and essentially escorting everything to his lungs in an open invite to make him sick. especially not if there were mice or rats present, which there very clearly were.

“if we don’t get beyonce or gaga out of this, i swear to god…” kurt muttered, scowling under the white mask as he pulled a pair of gardening gloves from his back pocket. he was nothing if not prepared, said the costco sized tub of hand sanitizer, and the tent he’d opted for because at least with that, he could dictate who came in and out. 

(tw: internalized homophobia (?), gay bashing (?), just in case)

Billy let one brow fly, because was this kid for real? He repressed his own urge to recoil from what absolutely had been a rat on goddamn steroids, A-Rod style, because he wasn’t a fucking sissy like Princess over here, but still. Rats caused the plague, or something didn’t they? 

“I don’t know what they fuck you’re talking about,” Billy finally admitted around the joint he’d pressed to his lips. He paused to light it up and inhale, the herbal scent of some top of the line bud protecting his nose from the worst of... whatever that smell was. “I say we save ourselves the trouble and torch the place,” he added with a shrug. 

Sweet Jesus, Princess had a honest-to-god mask. 

He was pretty enough. Billy had fucked his fair share of queens, could appreciate them, after a fashion. But there was always such a sense of effort required with this kind of gay. It was all Broadway, and RuPaul’s Drag Race season 32, and some bitch named Judith Butler, and that was about as far as he got before it all turned to white noise. Still, if they were throwing around concert ideas...

“Please, Rhianna’s the only one who’ll go for our whole ‘nuclear apocalyptic chic’ thing we’ve got going on.” Billy rolled his eyes as the kid pulled out actual gloves, and figured he’d take one for the fucking team. He’d always wanted to kick down a door anyway. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll get the door.”

[hcrgrcve]

Guidelines

18+ only

This blog will contain EXTREMELY dark themes. Please be wary, and careful. Triggering content will be tagged: ‘TW: trigger’. Keep in mind that while I will do my best to trigger everything, I don’t know your triggers. Read with an understanding that this blog is first and foremost intended for the horror rp Elbow Grease with all that entails, and also that Billy is emphatically NOT PC.

triggers

While I will be tagging for triggers, I want to emphasize that there will be a lot of trash talking, homophobia (internalized and otherwise), probably misogyny... Guys, Billy just really sucks on the surface. He’s actually not a bad guy, especially when it comes to LGBTQ+ solidarity, but he’s not going to show that right off the bat. He doesn’t want people thinking he’s nice, or honorable, or what the fuck ever. He wants people to look at him and wonder if he’ll deck them, and that’s that. If his language is a problem for you, please just say the word and I can tone it down in our paras. 

Also, please know that I do not condone any of the things that come out of Billy’s mouth. Hope to hell we get a chance to see him work through some of his shit before he kicks the bucket, but like, I’m not holding my breath. (I’m really sorry about him).

shipping

If there’s a quality plot you’d like to explore, I’m happy to hear it. I don’t have any particular ships I prefer, and let’s be real, it’ll take a hell of a lot to convince Billy into any kind of endgame scenario xD. I’m happy to engage with any plot I find intriguing, and that will give me a chance to explore different sides of Billy. I also am HAPPY and quite eager to write non-romantic relationships, because if Billy’s going to do any kind of soul searching, it’s probably going to happen outside the realm of sex and love.

That’s all for now, but if you have any questions, feel free to let me know!

[hcrgrcve]

thebrightestwltch:

            Hermione knew the look of satisfaction, though she was certain his actions did nothing to warrant as much. No, that much she knew. And if anyone could serve to lose a few brain cells, what with the fumes of the paint, she figured he probably couldn’t afford to lose anymore. The brunette knew better than to argue a lost cause and with day one fresh before them, Hermione hoped to at least maintain some points for when she actually needed them down the road, because getting a reputation this early into the game? It didn’t sound the least bit ideal. Stopping in her tracks, her attention flicked back up to the all too proud vandal with a curve of curiosity hanging over her brow. 

          “And whys that, if I may ask?” What more lurked beyond what she could see? Brown eyes surveyed the scene briefly before looping back to him just in time to witness immaturity at it’s finest. Turns out he was the source all along. She should have known. Then again, she had spent the past year trying to dial back the judgement because if anything, she had certainly taken on a more empathetic front and acknowledge that she didn’t know everything, not about everyone. “I don’t think it’s big enough.” She managed out dryly, indirectly pointing out how truly obnoxious it was.

        “I fear we have significantly different views of art.” Hermione’s was directly associated with the Louvre, Vincent van Gogh, the Renaissance… Not like graffiti that littered the London back alleys and now this place. But they were going to have to paint it, therefore she bit her tongue and attempted to hold back the disdain; whether or not she was successful was a different story. “Or standards.” That was more like it, perhaps. “I’d rather spend the night making sure there’s a half decent spot to sleep, no offense.” 

“Smells like the inside of a decaying skunk’s cunt,” Billy explained, though honestly, if she couldn’t smell it from here, she really needed her olfactory cavities tested. He snorted at her retort though. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a sense of humor, but it’d make everyone’s lives easier this summer if the resident tight-ass could take a joke. 

“Size queen, are you? You’re in luck.” He let that one sit a moment, throwing a wink in her direction before continuing. “I’ve still got daylight, and this was just a practice run.” She wasn’t riding his ass about his delinquency, which was unexpected, but honestly, only encouraged him to push her a little farther. “So what, you prefer cunts? Hey, I don’t mind, I’m an equal opportunity kinda guy, myself. You want a cunt, I’ll get you a cunt. Draw it like one of my french girls.” He stepped back, eyeing the wall for placement and nodded, hefting the ladder over about ten feet. 

But before he started climbing, he eyed the girl. “Offense taken. Why don’t you get up there and show me what you think art looks like, princess.” He was toeing the line between being cute and being a dick, but that wasn’t really a line he cared about crossing. To punctuate his decision, he tossed her the can of spray paint. 

[hcrgrcve]

thebrightestwltch:

         OH, IT WAS HIGHLY PLAUSIBLE HERMIONE GRANGER WAS FEELING REGRET. Enough of it to stop her in her tracks with her thumbs hooked into the straps of her backpack, knuckles growing a bit whiter upon the realization that this is what they were working with. At no point did anyone try an sugar coat what they were walking into (though she suspected no one really knew how bad it truly was). The grounds were endless and the current building, which sh suspected was the rec hall, was huge and hadn’t been properly touched in half a century. That certainly hadn’t stopped the wild life from slipping in through broken doors and smashed windows, nor had it stopped vandals from trashing the place and decorating it with their own sloppy attempts at art. One of which being the sixty foot neon green penis that spanned the entire south facing wall. Who ever ventured out this far for that reason seemed insane enough considering it had been a trek and a half getting here, and they’d only just begun. 

         The smell was among one of the worst things, especially in comparison to the distinct fresh air laced with spruce and pine. Two steps in and Hermione was regretting it already, nose scrunched up with heavy brows that pulled together in a wild understanding that the next two months would be spent here. Still, far better than the barrage of questions her parents would have with her. Once upon a time she adored talking about her day, what she learned, what her teachers said, the books she was reading… But over the years, especially now the questions had gotten far heavier and … Well, it was significantly easier to breathe in the foul air that smelled of mold and mouse pee. “I don’t suppose the cabins are going to be much better, are they?” Hermione questioned, brow peaked as she turned to throw a look of cynical hope their way. “Actually, we should probably find those first considering we’ve only a few more hours of daylight.” And with the thickness of the trees and the unkempt grounds, they needed every sliver of sunlight they could get. “And between you and I, I’m not exactly eager to spend the night in here.”  Not with the toppled over tables and broken chairs, nor the hazardous aesthetic that had the entire mess hall looking as if a tornado had swept through. 

STARTER OPEN TO ELBOW GREASE MEMBERS.

Billy stared up at his masterpiece with satisfaction. Yep, that was a nice, big cock. Took him all day, too. It was hot as fucking balls out here, and he was surrounded by a bunch of weirdos who actually volunteered to go all Chip and Joanna on a summer camp in the middle of nowhere. Because it was their idea of a good time... or something? He didn’t fucking know. What he did know, was that he’d been tasked with painting this goddamn monstrosity tomorrow, and fuck if he wasn’t going to make it worth his while first. 

“Wouldn’t go in there, if I were you,” he called out, though why he’d thrown this one a warning was beyond him. As far as he could tell, she was one of the worst. She oozed FRET everywhere she walked, and Christ, Billy could swear he could smell the anxiety rolling off her in ways. She needed a good, hard fuck, that’s what she needed. She was probably one of those ‘saving it for marriage’ types. At least, that’s what she thought she was. 

Billy snorted, and shook his can of spray paint. He’d make it a hairy cock. Nice. He started spraying again, squiggly hairs on the massive ten foot high ball sac.

“Why waste a fine night like this with chores when you could be making art?” He tossed out. He had half a mind to recommend to her where she could spend her night instead, not out of any real desire to fuck her, but just as a general community service to the rest of the renovators. 

[hcrgrcve]

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait                                         Some say it's better but I say it ain't

Billy tried being good once. He tried to be the best fucking son this world has ever seen. He ate his Wheaties, and went to church every Sunday, studied for his goddamn spelling tests. What’d it get him?

A frickin’ broken rib and a three-day interview with Child Services. And then another month of hell. 

He tried being the best at sports, the best at school, the hardest working, None of it worked, none of it lessened the beatings coming from his dad, none of it softened the poison his father would spit in his face before bashing it in. Eventually, he just gave up. Why try at all when nothing mattered in the end? So Billy figured if his dad was just going to hate him for breathing         for living when she didn’t       he’d at least make it worth his while and earn every fucking bruise. 

Billy smokes what he wants, fucks who he likes, breaks what catches his eye, hurts who pisses him off, and generally does whatever the fuck he wants. 

I might be laughing a bit too loud                                          but that never hurt no one

He’s not an idiot though. He could’ve stayed in Monterey with past flings littering every street corner, and another dealer every five contacts in his phone, but there were also the cliffs haunting his every dream, and when Neil announced he and his new little family were moving to Colorado Springs, and Susan forced him to extend that invitation to Billy, Billy took it, despite his better judgment. He could use the free rent, disinterested in putting in the time to make more money than what he could get at any mechanic shop across the country. 

Plus, Susan had gotten a job at the university in town, and they had some fancy philanthropic perks program for their employees, free tuition for family members. Billy wasn’t exactly keen on continuing his education, but there was a night class program, and it was free. 

And it gave him a reason to miss curfew. 

Which comes in handy because his main source of income these days has been the people owning the beds he’s been hopping in and out of (and the showers, closets, cars, garages, the occasional memorable office...). That’s right, folks, Billy Hargrove’s a whore, in the truest sense of the word, and he’s fucking loving it. 

I’d rather laugh with the sinners,                                                 Than die with the saints

People pay him to fuck them, pay him to fuck him, pay to tie him up, be tied up, bruise him, wear his bruises... there was even an actual knife one time (yes, Billy’s discovered his penchant for a nice sharp blade). They fucking give him money for it. It’s the goddamn greatest. And now with the excuse of night school, he’s making more money than he ever could with Neil breaking down his neck. Only problem is the actual school bit. When he can be fucked to even attend, it takes all his energy to not beat the faces in of the idiots around him, and you know, Billy finds he doesn’t have a lot of energy these days. 

This weird summer camp gig is penitence for one such episode of low energy. He got into a fight with some dumb shit homophobe in the middle of class and maybe torched his car and now spending his summer in the middle of the fucking woods with more idiots is part of his punishment. Some shit about “learning the value of respecting and taking care of property.” He figures he’ll light a joint, fuck his way through the ranks, and the summer will be over before he knows it.

The sinners are much more fun

[elbowgreaserp]

         NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU SCREAM.

FULL NAVIGATION  ☠ PLOT  ☠ RULES  ☠ APPLICATION  ☠ RP HOME ☠  F.A.Q

ELBOW GREASE is an indie horror group verse. 18+ ONLY.  Trigger heavy due to the genre, therefore not for the faint of heart.

BUT SOME MONSTERS PEOPLE LIKE IT THAT WAY. 

[elbowgreaserp]

Ohhh, resident bad boy in the house — er, woods. Welcome to the group, Kailey! BILLY HARGROVE, ACCEPTED!

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[bob-belcher]

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