#HOW TF DID I THINK I WAS GOING TO GET MY HANDS ON HUMAN PARTICIPANTS AND AN EEG????

[shoesofthefishermanswife]

HELP I JUST FOUND A RESEARCH PROPOSAL I WROTE AT 11

[ckret2]

*pulls up a chair, turns it backwards, and straddles it with my arms casually resting on the back*

Hi guys. We're gonna talk about vore. In a serious and non-judgmental manner. For five minutes we'll treat it like it's not a joke kink. Thanks.

So something not all of you know about me is I'm asexual; and something probably even less of you know about me is that I'm the kind of asexual who's fascinated by sexuality and kink, like an anthropologist studying a culture with norms and beliefs that are foreign to me. I'm intrigued by what makes people's sexualities tick and what it is that appeals to them about kinks that outsiders see as bizarre or completely incomprehensible.

I maintain a strict "we don't kinkshame here" policy; I'm personally disinterested in but comfortable discussing niche kinks ranging from inflatable pool toys to the earlier-mentioned oculolinctus; and I know that when I have a writing question like "what does poop taste like" oftentimes the most detailed and helpful information will come from people with fetishes that make most of the Internet gasp in horror, and I deeply appreciate their invaluable contributions.

So when I express surprise that I got someone into vore, it's because I have a specific idea about what vore entails that comes from—you guessed it—seeing lots of vore art.

From what I've witnessed, in most cases, it takes more than just "eroticized cannibalism" to make a work "vore." Like if two cannibals are having a sexually-charged dinner over a delicious homecooked meal that we know was once human, there is something kinky going on here, and the cannibalism—the knowledge of a life ended, the taboo, the horror—is part of that kinkiness; but if you ask how many people are engaged in this sexual encounter, the automatic answer is "two," the couple eating. Not "three." The meal isn't humanized. It's an edible sex toy, a prop. It's meat.

To my mind, "erotic cannibalism" isn't "vore" until the meal is a person. That doesn't just mean giving them dialogue; but treating them as a participant in the sexual encounter. Either the subject from whose perspective we are to view the encounter, or the object of desire on whom our erotic gaze is meant to linger.

Think of it this way: if you replace the human meat with beef, is it now just a story about eating steak? Then it's not vore. On the other hand, does it now inherently become a story about eating an anthro cow, because the "beef" had enough personhood that you can't consider it "just" a cow? That's vore.

Consuming a human(oid) body doesn't constitute vore, but rather consuming a human(oid) life. A consciousness—an identity—must be swallowed. If that's missing from the encounter (say, if someone is devoured but their personhood is ignored by the creator as irrelevant; or if parts of a person are consumed, but their seat of identity—their mind, their soul—remains undevoured), then to me it's not yet vore. It's "just" cannibalism.

And so—by my own understanding of vore—I've never written vore.

But like on the other hand I have written about a cannibal who gets off to biting off chunks of his lover's flesh because he fantasizes about consuming his still-beating heart to make his beloved a part of himself; so like, okay, sure, let's be real here, I've gotten close enough to count.

The fact that it doesn't "feel" like vore to me until a life (as opposed to mere flesh) has been swallowed doesn't mean that to other people what I've written won't hit the same buttons that vore hits for them—because the edges of any one person's sexuality are nothing if not nuanced and blobby and blurry and no two people's ideas of what gets them off (and thus no two people's ideas of what makes for a specific kink) will ever be exactly the same.

All of which is to say:

Yeah I was genuinely surprised when somebody said I got them into vore lmao, legitimately my first reaction was "how tf did I get somebody into a kink I myself don't have?" BUT the fact that I can "feel" a hard dividing line between "vore" and "horny cannibalism that isn't vore" doesn't mean that other people feel it's there. It's interesting and enlightening to hear that for somebody, there is no difference in what I wrote, and I did actually, genuinely introduce them to a kink I don't see myself as sharing. I think it's kinda neat.

(So, anon who wrote in, if you're still around: I hope my surprise didn't come across as derision! I was genuinely fascinated to hear that. And I do appreciate getting this random opportunity to talk about unusual kinks on main.)

Okay, lecture over, class dismissed. Y'all can go about your day.

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 13

humansona time, hell yes

OH MAN I forgot about the stuff w/swerve and blurr oof

that panel of perceptor just saying random equations always kills me vhsdjhfkbjhksdfnka

also I love so much that they call perceptor ‘percy’ that's so cute

I love the implications here that people just Grab minibots and carry them around like luggage bc they are Tiny lmao

ohhhh my god I fuckgin love ‘I'm just wondering if there's time to expand my aura and cleanse the area of aggression’ ‘I...don't think so, drift’ hgbadjfjbaskdfs drift’s hippy nonsense delivered completely seriously pairs hilariously with his whole ‘violent guy with a bunch of swords’ thing lmao

also, IM NEVER OVER CYCLONUS SINGING TO TAILGATE, and also the security team mistaking it for cyclonus murdering tg hbhkjadfbjkhsdf cyclonus u icon

and tg looking at cyclonus all heart-eyes, omg 

drift showing rodimus how to swordfight...fellas.....

rodimus, being entirely ignorant to the irony in calling cyclonus and tailgate’s relationship strange when he and drift are Right There, being weird gay frat bros

did yall know, I love magnus so much. law dad

magnus saying ‘that's not even a word. id have heard of it’ about the word ‘relax’ is so funny god 

rodimus bribing swerve with a bar license to get magnus turnt is hbvhjakdbfhskf

never over rodimus portioning out drifts blood money to the crew for shore leave hubhjsdkhfdbjksd god 

despite tg lying about a good amount of his past, I feel like he rlly DOES see cyclonus as a link to a more familiar time, and that's a large reason why he’s so forgiving toward cyc

mannnn the stuff w/blurr and swerve is so depressing in retrospect. swerve is like, such a depressing character the more you think abt him vbhskjdhfbsk jesus

magnus trying to get in on the convo when swerve starts talking statistics oh magnus

idk what ‘the lube pits’ are but I Really do not want to know

‘the temple of the raging prism’ sounds fuckin bangin tho

I love seeing everyones humansona!! this art style is pretty simple, but I think it looks cute

rungs ‘human name’ being ‘mary sue’ lmaoooooo jro w/the self callout

also skids’ name being blank is a nice touch

still not over tg being a baby....poor guy

whirls humansona is so fuckgin good, also swerve looks like a hobbit

magnus basing his avatar on verity is so sweet ;_; I really should read all the wreckers stuff after I finish this reread

THE ABSOLUTE COMEDY OF MAGNUS JUST FUCKGIN PASSING OUT THE INSTANT THE ALOCHOL HITS...ICONIC

WHY would magnus accept a drink from whirl anyways lmao

tailgate is so cute

they rlly just left magnus facedown on the table and kept drinking huh. the irresponsibility....we love it

ARE YOU SURE THAT KILLMASTER IS DEAD, WHIRL? ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?

rung don't lie, froid is your nemesis

WHY do we never get to hear more about skids’ apparent beef with misfire

rewind calling the swerve/misfire This early, wow

literally Everyone abandoning swerve to deal with magnus hgbvhfjdskdfbhs I fucking love this issue man

GOD I LOVE MAGNUS SO MUCH!!!!!!!! he’s such an interesting and unique character and hhhh I love him and his development

like, he was probably the biggest surprise out of everyone who agreed to go on the quest - ostensibly it was to keep order on the lost light, but it would make sense that magnus would get tired of being the Only one who cares about that sorta stuff on board 

drunk magnus is such a delight oh my god

magnus rlly just wants everyone to be safe :( my daddddd

magnus: I love all my children equally...swerve, rodimus, [looks at smudged writing on hand] dirt

swerve: see, magnus, that’s where you’re wrong - I ALSO have crippling depression!

cant believe they bought rodimus a hat vhbhksdfhahsjkdf

HHHHH GOD I FORGOT ABT THATTTT when cyclonus goes bonkers in order to stop rewind from playing the ark 1 footage and inadvertently outing tailgate as a liar....AUGHHHHH THE FUCKING...THE FUCKING ROMANCE OF IT ALL

POOR MAGNUS LMAOOOO

oh rewind :( you should really wonder a little harder where chromedome is right now...oof

everyone jumping on magnus while he’s passed tf out is SO fucking funny 

RUNG, PLEASE, WE REALLY DONT NEED TO THINK ABOUT WHATS AROUND THE CORNER. REALLY DONT

hhhhhhhhhhh I love how cyclonus sat tailgate down and confronted him about lying, but did it privately and not in front of everyone - and he even saved tg from being exposed as a liar, too. AUGH 

I feel like cyclonus is kinda impressed at how effortlessly tg has managed to lie this whole time, and tbh it IS impressive, especially considering tailgate was basically teleported 6 million years into the future and has no idea how the world works anymore, but was still able to lie convincingly. even cyclonus only realized bc of his own past, and not until now

tailgate ;_; ;_; ;_; 

cyclonus: oh no...im soft

tailgate and cyclonus singing ye olde cybertronian tunes together...OUGHHHH my fucking heart bro mY FUCKING HEART.

on that note: the song ‘to noise making (sing)’ by hozier is literally about cygate. thank u for coming to my ted talk

UGH GOD SWERVE STOP MAKING ME SO SAD, ITS NOT EVEN THE SWEARTH ARC YET

magnus had to like, get the robot equivalent of a stomach pumping after that hvbskdjfbhskdf jesus they really did almost kill him huh

I consider this issue forshadowing bc it makes 100% sense that minimus would be a Mega Lightweight considering he’s like 3 feet tall

the real quest that swerve is participating in is ‘the quest to get friends’ and so far its going pretty badly. poor dude 

godddd the thing that says ‘next: Overlord!’ with a fucking exclamation point I DONT APPRECIATE THAT. 

OHO i forgot abt the canon fanfic at the end of this issue

rung kicking things off with some good ole bodily workings-based dread 

ok but being so awed by the construction of your species’ anatomy that you wanna fall on the floor in amazement? that's a whole ass mood and I do frequently stare at walls for long periods of time, thinking about the marvel that is the human body. so rung is valid 

FROID NAME DROP LMAO. also yet again, are you SURE he’s dead?? are you????

the name ‘froid’ cracked me up almost as much as ‘rigor morphis’ did when I first read this...robot-based science puns! woohoo!

rung rlly b out here thinking abt overlords lips.....

‘forced browsing is not the autobot way’ lmao skids

also fr tailgate defs thinks that whirls actually name is nutjob

the entire segment of cyclonus browsing and everyone watching him and commenting is just. golden

oh no. don't make me think of rewind and his tiny memory sticks that he carries around. I'm NOT READY

magnus’ brutal read on rodimus and the fact that he’s more suited, personality-wise, to wartime than peacetime? oof. love it

I ALSO love that a big part of this issue was magnus admitting, in less direct terms, that HE isn't made for the post-war life either - his strict adherence to the rules and constant vigilance isn't exactly the best mindset for peacetime, for him or the people under his command

magnus’s hatred of metaphors and similes and the like....hvbsdjkfbasjhdf I love him

MAGNUS ILY...he’s trying SO HARD cut him some slack. i think his jokes are. yeah!

oh goody this text used "rodimus’s" so I guess that's canonically correct and I haven't been using grammar incorrectly as I had feared 

rodimus sitting ON his desk and doodling on it...adhd icon

rodimus calling rung a psychotherapist, which was rung’s grounds for a nemesis hvbhjabfdskfnkks

rung: as I'm sure you know I take patient confidentiality VERY seriously

narrator: That Was A Lie 

AUGH this hurts...rung trying to get justice for red alert but rodimus is in on the overlord stuff :( ouch

so issue 13! I fucking love this issue. just some good ole funney space hijinks, with some nice relationship development for tg and cyc - plus a revelation about tailgate - and some characterization for swerve and magnus. plus we get to see humansonas, which is always fun. augh I love this comic, and I am SO not ready for the next few issues, good lord

[argylemnwrites]

More Than Enough

Pairing: James Ashton x MC (Emily Day)

Book: The Freshman Series (Post The Senior)

Word Count: ~1700

Rating:  PG

Summary: A volunteer event at a school causes Emily to wonder if James is reconsidering key elements of their future.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 18 of the Choices July Challenge (prompt - Family). Sorry this is a day late, but work wiped me out yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to finish this piece until tonight. All the baby talk in TRH got me thinking about my MC from TF series, who I always saw as childfree. So if TRH baby talk is not your thing, this one might be more your speed!

Emily spun the ring around her finger, a nervous habit she picked up in the first few weeks after James slid it onto her hand on the roof of her first dorm. It was a perfect proposal that seemed to bring her four years at Hartfeld full circle just as she was closing that chapter of her life. At first the size and weight of the stone had caught her attention all the time. As wonderful as it made her feel to carry around a symbol of their relationship, to broadcast to the world that she was his and he was hers, quite frankly she was not used to jewelry, and so playing with it was a natural response to something so out of her realm of normal.  But now, over a year later, she barely registered it most of the time. It felt as if it has always been there, just another part of her left hand. Still, futzing with it when she was anxious was just habit she picked up somewhere along the way.

She shouldn’t be nervous. She understood this on an intellectual level, but deeper in her heart and soul, she just couldn’t help it. The way he had acted about the whole thing, with such energy and enthusiasm, was completely unexpected. And quite frankly, she didn’t know how to process it.

It started two weeks ago when James had come home from work unusually happy. He had been working as an editor at this publishing house for about four months, and Emily knew he didn’t love his work. It had been harder than the two of them had hoped it would be for him to find a job when he followed her to London just over a month after she had moved there. And his first job, working as a script advisor for an low-budget film company, had turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. Calling it a “company” was a vast overstatement, as it was just two men and one woman, none of whom seemed to have shared any of their visions for their film with each other, instead arguing over tone and pacing of their project through James. After six weeks, he’d quit out of sheer frustration and fear that any future paychecks were unlikely to materialize given the overall financial state of the group. It hadn’t taken him as long to find this job, but it still wasn’t something he loved. Nevertheless, it was more likely to give him further industry connections, even if James clearly wished he could spend more of his time writing his own work as opposed to editing and revising the work of other writers.

So when James came home nearly giddy, pulling a bottle of fairly expensive Merlot out of his bag, Emily had assumed that he had gotten a promotion or an interview for a different position. Instead, he’d announced that his company had asked him to volunteer at an outreach event aimed to increase reading and writing in schoolchildren.

“Tina said they were asking all the published authors to participate. I’ll be expected to read a story to some of the younger children, then the older children will have a session where they get to ask questions about being a writer!”

Emily had taken a moment, trying to gauge just why James was so excited about this event in particular. But before she could even wrap her mind around his enthusiasm, he had placed a glass of wine in front of her, kissing her on her cheek as he sat down next to her and opened up his laptop. She assumed he was working on his poetry, but when she passed behind him on her way to grab the bottle of wine, looking to top off both their glasses, she was surprised to see him browsing the children’s book section on Amazon. And as the days trickled on, getting closer and closer to his “field trip,” not only did a package containing Oh the Places You’ll Go arrive at their address, so did a comical striped hat and a matching shirt. James was clearly committed to being a hit with the random children, and that fact caused an inkling of doubt to take root in Emily’s heart, growing and flowering like it never had before.

The two of them had not really discussed having children since their weekend away during her senior year. It had not seemed necessary since they were so clearly on the same page - they did not envision children as part of their future. But here was James, acting giddy at the thought of spending half a day volunteering with some children at a random school. Was it possible that James had changed his mind? Had he decided that becoming a parent was something he wanted?

Emily’s stomach was in knots at the mere thought of the idea. Sure, in college she had been the “mother” of the friend group in numerous situations, but that didn’t mean that she wanted an actual child. Helping out an adult was one thing, but being completely responsible for another human life was a terrifying prospect that held almost no appeal to her. Plus, why would she want to give up her clean, tidy, modern flat for mess and chaos? Why would she want to forego spontaneous weekend getaways for play-dates and trips to the local park? Why would she want to spend all her money on clothes that her child would outgrow in a few months when she could splurge on a new pair of heels for herself?

But if James wanted children now, she had no idea what she would do. It was bad enough listening to both her parents and his parents drop hint after hint that they were hopeful for grandchildren soon after the wedding. If James started making such statements, it would break her heart. She loved him completely and irrevocably, but she was not sure if she could give him that. It just was not what she saw for their future, no matter how hard she tried to imagine things.

So here she was, waiting for him to get home from his day with the schoolchildren, torturing herself by staring at his company’s Pictagram which had numerous posts from the event. He was so happy; there was such a joy in his eyes. He was clearly good with the children, a short video clip showing him adopting different silly voices with the students completely engrossed. Emily could hardly bear to watch.

“Good evening, my dear!” James called out from their flat’s entryway. Emily could hear him hanging his jacket up on the hooks they had placed by the door, buttons clicking against the wall. “I hope you’re hungry, as I grabbed Thai food from that new restaurant down the street, and I may have bought way too much. It just all smelled so delicious, I couldn’t resist.”

He dropped the takeaway bag on the table, heading into the kitchen, continuing his so-far one-sided conversation, “How was your day?”

“It was fine, nothing too exciting.” Emily paused for just a moment before she continued, asking the question she dreaded, “How was yours?”

“It was wonderful! I had such a good time!” James returned from the kitchen, placing two plates and some silverware on the table with the food. “The younger children were so much more attentive than I could have hoped for, and some of the older children had some really insightful questions.” He sat down next to her at that, grabbing one of the plates and opening up the takeaway containers.

He was radiating pure joy as he talked about the children. She had to bring this up now, before the wedding got any closer. “James, I have to ask, is this something you want now?”

“To eat? Yes?”

“No… children. Do you want to have kids at some point?”

Her question clearly caught him off guard, as he stopped scooping rice onto his plate and stared at her. There were several agonizing seconds of silence before he spoke. “Have you changed your mind about parenthood?”

She shook her head. “No, but with the wedding only a few months away, I just thought we better get this cleared up now. I know you had a great time with the students today, James, but I still don’t want to have kids, and I don’t think that I’ll ever want kids, so if that’s something you’re realizing you want, I think we need to have an honest conversation, because I don’t know what that will mean for us.”

James placed his plate back on the table, grabbing her right hand in both of his. “I like kids, and I did have a great time with them today… for one afternoon, where I didn’t have to worry about actually parenting any of them, and I was not responsible for anything other than reading and answering some questions. One afternoon, after which I returned home with takeaway Thai food to a clean, quiet flat that is the perfect size for two adults.”

Emily let out a shaky breath, feeling an immense wave of relief wash over her. “So, you are still okay if we don’t have children?”

“Okay with it? Emily, I adore the thought of us growing old and grey together, side by side, just you and me. I love the life we’ve built together, filled with eating out and fine wine and going to the ballet and taking expensive vacations.”

“And you’re fine with not having a family?”

James shook his head, “You are my family. We don’t need to have children to be complete. You are my muse, my perfect partner in so many ways. Why would I need any more than that?”

Emily smiled, leaning over and kissing him gently. It almost felt silly now, how worried she had gotten over the mere thought that James might be good with children. She had faith in the life they had created for themselves, though. And James was right, they were a family, and she didn’t see herself ever needing more than the two of them. He was enough. They were enough.

Tags: @mfackenthal @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge

[urdearestmom]

fate (mileven week)

“‘A firebender and a master of the mind shall someday meet

Two halves of a whole, the Nether beast they must defeat

Stronger together, although this at first they may hate

Finally to find that it was always fate.’ What kind of bullshit-”

Mike Wheeler is royally pissed off. He’s always royally pissed off at something, it kind of comes with his personality, but this is the last straw.

On your sixteenth birthday, you’re supposed to get some kind of hint as to who your soulmate is in the form of something written, whether that’s something like a poem or just a simple one-liner. Nobody knows where these things come from, they just show up near you the morning of your sixteenth. It’s probably the Fates, or something. Mike doesn’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. When you meet your soulmate, they strengthen whatever power it is that you have, because another thing about this crazy world he lives in is that every human being is born with an affinity for something. However, some people possess powers more dangerous than others.

Mike Wheeler is one of them. He’s the only magna-powered person in his whole family. His older sister can lift twenty times her weight and his younger one can talk to animals, neither of which really interferes much with their daily lives or anyone else’s. His mom’s power is the ability to do anything perfectly. That’s actually a really useful one, in fact. His dad’s is perfect memory. He remembers exact dates and exact sequences of events, which can also be useful in some cases.

Mike, on the other hand, was born with the ability to create and manipulate fire. He’s also immune to it. When he was a baby, his mom had fed him and then he’d burped and set her blouse aflame, and that was how everyone knew that Karen’s boy was a firebender. It’s pretty cool and can be useful sometimes, but it’s very volatile, which is what makes it dangerous. He has a hard time controlling it, especially when he’s angry, which is a lot of the time because he has an extremely short temper. His whole life is just a vicious cycle.

So, when he wakes up on his sixteenth birthday and sees a wretched-looking piece of paper right in front of his face, he’s not surprised. What pisses him off is that it’s a fucking prophecy. He not only already has this stupid power, now the only hint he has to finding the single person in the world who might just love him the way he is is a goddamn prophecy. He can’t even meet his damn soulmate in a normal way.

He takes a picture of the paper and sends it to the group chat he has with his four friends. They’re the only people who have been brave enough to stand being close with him. Most of the school population is afraid of him; afraid that he’ll get angry and incinerate them, or something.

The Destroyer: guys i got my soulmate thingy

The Destroyer: woke up with it next to my face

The Destroyer: and it’s a fucKING PROPHECY WHAT THE FUCK

The Destroyer: IMG.347

The Destroyer: can’t even meet my goddamn soulmate in a normal way goddammit

The Vanisher: calm down mike

The Destroyer: I CAN’T CALM DOWN WILL FUCK

The Destroyer: THE ONE HINT I HAVE AND IT’S A PROPHECY!!!!! TF!!!!!!! WE HAVE TO KILL SOME MONSTER???? WHAT IS A NETHER BEAST

The Healer: idk what a nether beast is but sounds legit

The Healer: so you’re gonna hate your soulmate when you first meet apparently

The Destroyer: fuckinG GREAT THANKS DUSTIN

The Vanisher: where’s lucas when you need him

The Speedster: i’m here just

The Speedster: idk how to contribute to this

The Destroyer: i swear i’m going to set myself on fire

The Mimicker: if only that would actually work .

The Destroyer: stfu max i dont have time for your saltiness

Mike has to put his phone down because he can feel his body temperature rising and if he lets himself get too carried away he will spontaneously burst into flame. He hurriedly gets dressed in his specially-made flame-retardant clothes and pulls on his blocker gloves before making his way downstairs for breakfast.

At school, all he can hear about is the new girl. Apparently she just showed up this morning and no one knows what her power is. People have tried asking her, but nobody’s gotten anything concrete so far.

Mike couldn’t give less of a fuck. He’s not concerned with other people’s business. He hates having people in his, so why should he care about others’? In fact, he is so busy not caring about what other people are saying that he doesn’t even notice the person coming out of the restroom before he slams into her. She drops the bag she’s carrying and he drops all his books.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” growls Mike, bending down to pick up his stuff.

“Same goes for you, asshole,” comes the harsh response.

Mike stops in surprise. No one talks to him like that. Ever. They’re all too afraid of his temper to even try him. He looks up to find an unfamiliar face glaring back at him. This must be the new girl.

She’s quite pretty, but he hates her on sight. He’s not sure why; maybe the fact that she called him an asshole has something to do with it. He may or may not have deserved it, but that doesn’t mean he has to agree with it.

“Watch who you call an asshole, asshole,” he says bitingly, then picks up his last book and shoves past her.

He can feel stares on him, but he thinks people are mostly looking at the girl. She didn’t know who she was dealing with back there, otherwise, she probably would have run away just like everyone else does.

In chemistry, for which Mike isn’t allowed to participate in labs for obvious reasons, he doesn’t have a lab partner. Even if he did his classmates don’t trust him enough to sit next to him. He’s just sitting down and getting his books settled when the door opens again and in comes the same girl he just bumped into. She sees him right in the front row and her whole face wrinkles as if she’s just smelled something disgusting. A few minutes later, after she speaks to the teacher, she walks over to the empty side of Mike’s lab bench and drops her stuff before sitting down.

The girl openly looks him over again, and Mike feels himself shiver but he keeps his gaze directly forward. Something about her is off. Maybe she’s magna-powered too?

He sees her open her mouth. “I know what you are. And I hope you know I’m not afraid of you.”

Mike doesn’t say anything, merely picking at his nails as if he isn’t in the least affected by her words. What does she mean she’s not afraid of him? Who does she think she is? Even his friends are afraid of him, to some extent.

Mr. Lewis starts the lesson, and during the period Mike comes to know that the girl is named Eleanor Hopper. She’s his age. Her dad’s the new chief of police and today is her first day of school in Hawkins. She moved from Chicago. All irrelevant things that tell him nothing about who she really is, or as she would probably put it, what she is. Mike finds himself suddenly burning with curiosity (not literally of course, but he’s close). He wants to know what she does.

At the end of class, as they’re packing up their things, Mike turns to her and says, “You should be afraid of me.”

Eleanor raises a brow. “Why? So you can keep doing and saying whatever you want because no one will try to tell you you’re wrong?”

Mike feels his face twist into a frown. That’s not how it is at all and his face is getting hot, which is never a good sign. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She shoves her pencil case into her bag aggressively. “I know enough about pyros to assume your basic qualities, and I don’t like you. You all need anger management and a lesson in humility.”

“What did you call me?”

She gives a sarcastic laugh. “Pyro? Short for pyrokinetic? I recognize the blocker gloves, idiot. God, you don’t even know what your kind are called? Pretty stupid for someone in an honours chem class.”

Eleanor then exits the chemistry classroom, leaving Mike behind her with his blood boiling.

That’s it. He can’t stand her.

[runningwitches]

Loved

Summary: The reader is sad because they feel useless. Steve makes sure they know that’s not true and the party cheers them the heck up.

Request?: Nah M8 I’m just sad as heck

Word Count: 1819

A/N: i mean, seasonal depression and a neverending fear that nobody will ever love me and that I will die alone drove me to binge read a shit ton of steve harrington x reader fics and cry despite the fact that i havent finished season two of stranger things but im gonna write this anyways.

i guess this is steve x reader but thats not the main point of the story

idfk i just want to be loved

(umm, henderson! reader who is loved by everyone, i do not give a shit if this follows the exact storyline, ok? i just wanna be happy again) (also i do not look anything like a henderson! so reader can be adopted or some shit? maybe a cousin?  who tf knoes? not me, thats for sure !!

Warnings: Probably Season Two Spoilers, No Editing, Probably super OOC and all that because I started this at almost three in the morning and now its four and I’m exhausted but I cant sleep because I’m sad. Anyways I’m just trying to say that it’s bad but I’ll love you if you read it anyways.

I was curled up in my bed, isolating myself from everyone as per usual. After the events with the mind flayer and demodogs and upside down, I realized something pretty depressing. Nobody needed me. I mean like? Sure I was Dustin’s sister. And sure, I was kinda helpful in saving Steve’s ass from the demodogs and Billy, but it just feels as if I weren’t there, nobody would even notice. As if my presence had no positive value to anyone in The Party™.

So instead of socializing with them while they all played DnD and joked around, I sat myself in my room, wrapped in a blanket burrito, holding back tears. I had my music on in the background as I mindlessly flipped through one of the magazines my mom had bought for me. Everyone was downstairs as it was Dustin’s turn to host the DnD night, and everyone was over. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, and I definitely wouldn’t be surprised if I walked downstairs to find Joyce and Hopper there too. Every once in awhile I would hear some loud laughter come up from the group, signifying how happy they were without me there. It definitely wasn’t easy for me to sit there by myself staring blankly at the pictures of celebrities I didn’t even care about, but I continued to tell myself that they would be happier without me, attempting to drown out the sounds of their joy with the mixtape I had made for myself a little while back.

As I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, trying to force the tears that had started to pool back into my eyes, I heard someone knocking on my door. I quickly wiped my eyes to ensure there weren’t any stray tears, pulled the blanket tighter around my body, and attempted to look miserable. But miserable in a sick way and not in a sad way. If it were anybody except Dustin or Steve, I knew I was going to be able to pull off the “I’m not feeling very well” charade, so my chances were pretty good (though odds were rarely skewed in my favor).

Of course with my luck my little brother came bursting through the door.

“(Y/N)! Why aren’t you down there playing DnD with us?!” he asked, voice booming loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. As I prepared to try my excuse with him to see if my acting skills had gotten any better, I noticed someone else walking through the door. Looking up, my watery eyes met the concerned look on Steve’s face.

“Hey shithead, stop screaming. You don’t need to tell everyone in Hawkins about your sister’s lack of participation in game night,” he said to Dustin, ruffling his hair and then muttering for him to go back downstairs. Dustin looked angrily at Steve for a moment before looking between us for a second, muttered something to himself, and then left the room, surprisingly closing my door as he left.

“What’s up with you lately? It’s not like you to miss game night, but you haven’t been to a single one these past few weeks.”

“I’m just not feeling well, Steve, don’t worry about it,” I told him, looking down at the magazine in my lap and trying to will the tears away.

“Don’t try that bullshit with me, (Y/N). I know you better than that, do you really think I’d believe that crap?”

“There’s no bullshit to be had Steve, just go back downstairs, I’ll be fine,” I told him, yet I still refused to make eye contact. So when he sat down on the edge of my bed, put two fingers under my chin, and lifted my head up in order for me to make eye contact, I saw his face immediately soften.

“I’m not gonna go back downstairs until I figure out what’s wrong with my favorite girl.”

It took all of the resolve in the world for me to not break down at those two words, and it still didn’t even work. “Favorite girl?” I repeated, but only in my own head. “There’s no way I’m his favorite girl, he’s lying to me. Everyone always lies to me” I told myself. And in that second it was like the dam was broken. The tears started to fall freely from my face. I curled myself into more of a ball than I already was, which was a surprising feat of human flexibility, if I’m being completely honest. Steve’s arms immediately went around me, pulling us closer to each other, and practically pulling me into his lap.

I didn’t say a word as he stroked my hair and shushed me softly, I simply let out a series of what I would consider disgusting sobs.

He continued whispering to me, little things telling me that I’d be okay, or that he was there for me, or that everything was gonna be fine. As my breathing finally evened out, he hadn’t asked me what was wrong like I had expected, so I knew I had to speak up.

“Why are you even here, Harrington?” I asked him bitterly.

“What do you mean?” he replied, exasperated.

“Why do you even care about me?” I reiterated with a sniffle.

“Why do I care about you? (Y/N) what are you on about? It would take me ages to list all of that back to you.” I didn’t respond, but I allowed myself to relax a bit, leaning now onto his chest instead of holding myself as far away as I could while somehow still being in his lap. “(Y/N) you’re wonderful. You care so much about all of the kids, sometimes I think you out-mom even their own mom’s.” That was greeted with a sharp exhale from my nose which was (correctly) interpreted as a laugh. “You’re fucking badass. You can use a gun, a bat, a hockey stick, and pretty much anything else you can get your hands on to slay monsters, like real life monsters.” He checked my face after this comment, and was lucky he did, because he almost missed the slight curl of my lips. “You never let anybody get in the way of doing what needs to be done. Not even racist douchebags that show up and kick my ass. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone.” A few more tears fell from my eyes, but he grabbed my face and used his thumbs to wipe them away, looking into my eyes. “And you’ve got a whole group of teenagers sitting down there worried sick about you because you mean so much to all of them.”

I sniffled again and threw my arms around his neck, whispering an almost inaudible, “Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now let’s go get you cleaned up so we can finish that game of DnD.” I almost blushed at the pet name he gave me, if he didn’t sweep me up into his arms and carry me to the bathroom so I could rinse my face off. He made sure to grab my blanket from my bed and grabbed my hand to lead me down the stairs.

“Wow, it’s so nice of you to join us,” Dustin said the second we were down the stairs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve shot him a look that said, “shut up or I’ll kill you,” while I just gave him a small smile. Before I even got settled on the couch I was smothered by two bear hugs.

“I missed you (Y/N),” El told me, gripping me in probably the tightest hug I’ve ever had. “You were gone for three weeks!”

“Yeah dude! Don’t leave us alone with these losers for that long ever again!” Max exclaimed, hugging me almost as tight as El was.

I smiled down at both of them, hugging them back just as fiercely. Looking up, I saw the smile Steve had on, but I ignored it in favor of the smiles on my girls’ faces. Ruffling their hair, I removed myself from their grips and went to sit on the couch between Steve and Nancy.

“It’s a good thing you came back (Y/N). I almost killed your brother, and not in the campaign, in real life. I’m pretty sure you’d be the only one who could stop me.” I chuckled to myself and then smiled at Lucas.

“It’s a good thing that I’m back then, huh?”

Will looked up at me this time, “Definitely! I was waiting for you to come down so I could show you this drawing!” I smiled down at him, glancing briefly at Jonathan, only enough to recognize the immense pride on his face at the fact that Will was genuinely happy and smiley. He brought it up to show me a picture that he had drawn of me fighting a monster, a cute little label that pertained to my name at the top. “Steve said you fought a monster and won! And I didn’t even get to see it. So I thought I’d draw it out for you.”

“I love it Will!” I exclaimed, pulling him into a hug and looking at the drawing again. It wasn’t until this second look that I noticed a label by the monster’s head as well. It simply read, “Billy” with a little arrow to indicate that the monster I was beating up was named Billy. I laughed at the naming of the monster and pulled Will into another hug, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. He grabbed the drawing and placed himself back into his spot.

“(Y/N), you want to hop in on this campaign? We’ve still got a while left to go and we’re in a pretty good spot to add another character?” Mike offered, as he was playing Dungeon Master.

“Yeah, come on (Y/N)! You haven’t actually played in forever!” Dustin added.

The rest of the group added their own chorus of “Yeah”s to try and convince you to join.

“Okay, I guess. But only if I get to be a healer! I’m tired of killing the monsters,” I joked, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Okay, okay, so the group walks up to the tavern in town, hoping for a nice evening away from the fighting for once. But the open the door and see, A MOM, not just A mom, it’s their mom!”

“What?” El asked.

“Mike what are you on about?” Lucas added.

“OH MY GOD, (Y/N)’S GONNA BE LIKE OUR TEAM’S MOM!” Max shouted in realization. The whole group looked at Mike in anticipation. “Well obviously, how else would I have gone about this? It’s perfect, and the perfect position to make her the healer.”

“I mean, technically she’s my sister,” Dustin announced, implying that you couldn’t be his mom.

“See (Y/N), I told you I was gonna kill him.”