#wtchywoo

[eightiesfan]

Mitsubishi Mirage II

[crpediem]

@wtchywoo​ super duper plotted spoopymonth angst letsgo

        in hindsight, billy didn’t think it was possible. it wasn’t even the full moon, nowhere near close to it, but by the time the fight had gone past just harsh words being exchanged he knew things weren’t going to end well. neil just knew exactly which buttons to push to get the desired effect and billy usually took it just to get it done and over with. or he used to -- the wolf, however, wasn’t having it. 

        he’s shaking with pent up anger and energy by the time things go to shit, bad enough that the beast has absolutely no issue taking over and honestly, he would have laughed at the shocked expression on his father’s face if the situation wasn’t quite so dire. because one moment he’s being shoved into the wall, bracing himself for the punch, the next the arm is shooting out, grasping at neil’s arm to keep it there automatically and everything after that just dissolves into one massive blur as the wolf essentially, takes over. 

        he doesn’t quite prepare himself for the gun his father keeps stashed -- billy would know, the wolf however doesn’t as he advances with one goal and one goal alone in his mind, the gunshot and the yelp that follows suit the only things that drown out neil hargrove’s screams as the wolf tears at flesh, painting blonde fur red with blood. only once the body underneath stops struggling and going slack, a mess of limbs that’s barely recognizable anymore, does the pain settle in. he hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid the shot, blood pouring out of the wound at his shoulder and that coupled with the mess and the bits and pieces of conscience that manages to seep through is enough to get him to run. 

        the wolf may not feel remorse, but even dumb canine can break apart that whatever he’d done had been bad -- so billy runs. runs as fast as he can with the wound, to the only place he can think of at the moment. the only place that screams safe, safe, safe in his mind as he beelines for the holloway residence, drenched in blood, both neil’s and his own. 

        he’s running on fumes by the time he reaches the house, lurking around, trying to find a way out and because the wolf can’t, for the life of himself, connect the bell and the door, he opts for the next best thing, which is the back door. less sturdy and it gives way easily enough when he slams toward it. that’ll do. he’s dazed at that point, frantically glancing around when eyes fall onto someone -- not necessarily someone he knows, but she smells familiar. familiar and safe enough for the wolf to let go, exhaustion eventually catching up to him, leaving behind a dazed and panicked billy hargrove, trying to make it further into the house, stumbling over his own two feet, brows furrowing together when they fall onto heather of all people. that’s where the wolf had taken him??  “ h-heather -- “ some sight he must paint. 

[rattgrove]

@wtchywoo​ from here bc pain; 

         the longer the line rings, the more billy thinks that no one’s going to answer. and why would she? he’s given her every reason not to. the first being it’s the middle of the freaking night and the second -- well, he doesn’t really need to think back on couple of days prior when neil had once again gone out of his way to ruin the tiniest speck of happiness that billy could have had going onto a date with a girl he’s actually, genuinelly interested in for once. a simple remark, something regarding curfew and him being old enough to stay out later than intended had been the wrong thing to say. everything always is -- why billy can’t keep himself from opening his mouth when the situation least requires him to, is beyond him, but it’s why he finds himself here, two days later, calling the only one who knows might answer, even if he doesn’t really deserve her to.

        and he wanted to call before. wanted to apologize and let heather know what happened, the hoodie currently pulled over the top of his head, just because the damage that’s been done is too awful to be looked at if anyone were to catch sight of him. couldn’t quite bring himself to, however. it’s only now, with his car swerved off the road and tucked against a tree, broken down and unable to start that he finds himself calling -- lucky enough that he’s managed to find some cash on him to get the payphone running.

        with neil in one of his moods again, he needed to get out of the house, regardless of the fact that he literally had nowhere to go in the first place. the roads however, proving much more dangerous than what billy was used to. snow in hawkins was -- something. nothing billy wanted and nothing he’s been prepared for with the lack of clothes appropriate for cold weather as he now stood, pulling the jeans jacket tighter together, the hoddie underneath just not cutting it. driving in this weather -- was even worse in the blond’s opinion, the roads slippery as all hell and the reason why he’s now stuck in bumfuck nowhere, calling the only person that might give him the chance of day. or night. well .. maybe. unless she’s really mad, in which case he’s basically fucked. 

        luckily enough she does answer though, billy’s shoulders sagging with underlying panic as he waited. finds himself he doesn’t know where to begin, whether he should apologize or .. something, but he eventually settles on trying to calm his ragged breathing, bringing up the issue at hand. “ this might sound weird an’ all, but i .. could -- could you come pick me up? “ not that he deserved the kindness, but it’s the only chance he got. “ roads are kinda slippery and i -- my car’s vibin’ next to a tree, passenger door’s caved in and it wont start and i’m kinda .. stranded. “ a pause. “ ‘m fine, just -- cold. i guess. “ he wants to apologize for the date, he really does, but at this rate, he doesn’t find it in himself to explain why he hadn’t managed in the first place, gripping the phone handle a tad too tightly than there was any need to. “ if you can, i don’t -- fuck, i don’t wanna be a bother or anything. “ 

[hydrasweapon]

@wtchywoo​ in response to late night calls

                     He flinched when he heard his own name coming from his smartphone speaker, effectively dispelling the last dredges of numbing sleep from his brain. He hadn’t been asleep, exactly, but in a blurry state between panicked dreaming and semi-conscious alertness that made him reach for his phone, apparently. He rubbed a hand over his face, swearing under his breath. His forehead was clammy with cold sweat, and he could still hear his heartbeat thumping inside his ears. A nightmare, one of the worse ones. Zola’s face was still grinning down at him whenever Bucky closed his eyes, and the unfeeling metal arm hurt where the remnants of his arm used to be after the fall. Company helped in moments like these, which probably was why he had unconsciously opted to call someone. There weren’t a lot of names in his contacts: Steve, of course, and Sam. Raynor. Yori because he couldn’t bring himself to delete his number. Leah had the misfortune of having a name that started with a letter located in the front of the alphabet.

                     Fuck. He could just hang up, of course, but that would be rather rude, and considering his hasty disappearance during their date, he figured he kinda used all his rudeness free points up already. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, voice hoarse from a night of bad dreams. He swung his legs out of bed, the cool surface of the floor beneath his feet grounding him. Urgh, he should say something, right? His brain was still not cooperating all too well. “I didn’t mean to call you. I hope I didn’t wake you up,” he said, then wanted to kick himself. It was -- and he stared at his wristwatch a little too long -- three in the goddamn morning. Every sane person would be asleep at this time of day. No bouquet of flowers could make up for something like this. 

[manandmachines]

Starter for @wtchywoo​

“I really am dyin’ to know, when it ain’t under alien threat, what’s Wakanada like? Cause I’m hearin’ that’s where half these super hero toys and suits came from, so I’m guessin’ it’s some kinda technological paradise.”

[bchemianrhapscdy-archived]

T’Chana was standing in front of the mirror. She was becoming Queen of Wakanda, a few more days left for the ceremony. And with that the heritage of the Black Panther. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that step after all. Her father had been the wisest man she knew and without him, she felt lost in this world. Not only did she lose her mother at a young age but also her father. She felt like she was alone with thsi huge burden. When the door opened, a familar face walked in. 

“That’s how a queen looks, right?”

@wtchywoo​

[rattgrove]

@wtchywoo​ said;  drunk :  my  muse  takes  care  of  your  muse  while  they  are  in  a  drunken  state. 

     the party is .. not a total bust, as far as billy’s concerned. there’s free snacks and booze and weed and whatever other shit people could get their hands onto. he’s got tommy and the rest of their little crew following him around all evening as if he’s got absolutely nothing better to do and it’s fun for the first hour or two, but by the time he’s already well plastered, he finds himself wondering whether that’s really all it’s made out to be. turns out that the chicks that keep on throwing themselves onto his feet don’t interest him in the slightest. there’s no competition as far as keg stands went, either and while the party had been fun and all, it becomes boring real fucking fast. boring to the point of billy deciding to just .. get out of there, before he’ll actually end up falling into bed with some of those hawkins high cows he really had no interest of so much as talking to.

    it’s nothing new -- he’d done it before, driving absolutely plastered like this and he’s keeping a slower pace than usual -- incredibly lucky that no cops decide to pull him over, else neil would have a fucking field day with that. he had no set destination in mind by the time he left the party, realizing he knew exactly where he wanted to go by the time the house had been out of sight, however. 

    home was out of the question, obviously, but there’s one other place he could show up drunk off of his ass to and not get turned away outright, so that’s what billy decides to do, figuring that to be the best idea he’s had yet this night. he stops in front of heather’s house, parking with more trouble than is worth, but his parking job’s the least of his worries, by the time he finally manages to clamber out of the camaro, sauntering over to the holloway residence as if he fucking owns the place. he’s got his trademark grin on by the time he’s pressed the doorbell, waiting, one arm extended to lean onto the wall -- mostly to keep himself upward considering his poor balance isn’t doing him any favors, but he’ll pretend for as long as he can manage. by the time the door opens, grin only widens, head tilted to the side slightly. “ -- missed you at the party. “ that’s as good of a hello this late in the day as any.

[crpediem]

@wtchywoo​ said; “Here, I brought you another blanket.” (Heather & Billy 😌)

     billy doesn’t even manage a reply, before he has to sneeze again, wiping his nose afterwards. fucking gross. he’s feeling all kinds of awful, as one does when it’s flu season -- he’d just hoped his immune system would have been good enough to avoid it. 

    it’s been a while since he’d actually been properly sick, after all, keeping himself well and in shape. summer doesn’t count, regardless of how shitty he had felt  if for different reason entirely and he grasps the blanket with more urgency than is needed, wrapping it around himself, absolutely hating how goddamn cold he’s feeling. 

    he’s probably a sight, wrapped up in blankets like that to keep himself warm, huddled up on her couch, pale and sweaty and runny nose and all -- it’s ridiculous. billy fucking hates it. “ this fucking sucks. “ and he’ll make it known -- he hasn’t stopped complaining since he got there, but heather doesn’t mind one bit. 

    hell, she’s been nothing but helpful, even with him outwardly claiming he’ll be fine, but by the time he’s got the third blanket wrapped around him, feeling just a tiny bit better as warmth seeps in, he bites down another complaint in favor of the small ‘thanks’ that eventually leaves his lips. hell if he’s going to repeat that.