#also contained (buried) the real reason

[sierrale8ne]

ego / wnba!paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary you and paige have known each other since you were in diapers. but instead of becoming best friends like your parents had wished, you’ve disliked each your whole lives— for no real reason other than paige’s huge ego and your brattiness. until one annual family vacation reveals the true nature behind your quarrels. warnings 5.3k wc, sexual content, degradation, oral, fingering, choking, they’re both assholes. from lena i’m sorry this literally took forever, i have no excuses, but its here now. 😊

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @pboogerswbb @tndaqlwifwy @wbbgetsmewetter @juspeaks @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @ykylalex @cherryswisherz @bueckersbitch @paigesbabygirl @ohmybueckers

It’s warm in Minnesota this time of year, blazing heat and a certain humidity in the air that makes the air stick to your skin. The wood of your chair pressing into the skin, but you don’t really mind.

Being at the Bueckers Cabin was a tradition. Every year since your father and Bob Bueckers met in college years ago. Your album of photos contained pictures from your first birthday, celebrated here, all the way through now. You could count on one week with all your family, friends, and other loved ones all piled up at this cabin.

You could also always count on some sort of issue between you and Paige.

It wasn’t ever something specific, but all it took was a secluded cabin, nagging aunts and uncles, and an almost uncomfortable summer heat to bring the arguments to surface.

Paige was arrogant. Always thinking she was better than somebody. It was cocky. The certain gleam in her eye when your mother complemented her manners, or when she overheard someone tell you ‘you should be more like Paige’. It triggered you to heights unknown. And you swore up and down that she knew— hence why she kept acting that way.

But she? She thought you were spoiled rotten. That, as an only child, your parents enabled you to be a brat. Paige hated it. The way you spoke to her like you were hot shit and just got away with it. Though, if you really looked deeper into it, you only got away with it because she herself let you.

It was a hatred that started young. Probably a stolen toy or a mean comment when you were in elementary school. But either way, it never ever went away.

Her UConn teammates tread outside to join you. Azzi, Caroline, and Ice walk out one by one, bottles of dripping water in their hands to quench any lingering thirst.

“Hey, Babe!” Azzi greets you. Her body drapes over the back of your seat and wraps you in a loose hug. You smile, obviously. It’s Azzi, her smile is addictive and scent is so warming that you can’t not smile back. 

You greet the other just the same and they each take seats alongside you getting comfortable on the other deck chairs. Music can be faintly heard, some 90’s music that makes all your aunts and uncles reminisce on their college days.

“Is Paige around?” The question from Ice nearly makes you roll your eyes. Her name triggers something within you. And even though you’ve gone since April without seeing her, your blood begins to boil as if she’d been annoying you all day.

You shrug passively and your eyes dart off to the side, the smell of barbecue suddenly much more interesting 

“You guys are still on that?” Caroline asks.

“On what?”

“You know what!” Azzi laughs. “I think you guys should just bury the hatchet. Give her a chance, I could see you two getting along pretty well actually.”

Before you get the chance to explain that there is nothing that could possibly be done to get you to like the girl, that she could get on her knees and apologize for everything and you still wouldn’t move on— the sliding glass door opened up. You turn your head to see your father calling you in with his hand.

“Come over here and help your mama!” 

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead you stand up.

You slide your sandals on your feet before you walk inside, the clacking of them against the hardwood clashes with the voices of your family. Upon entering the kitchen, you’re greeted with laughs which normally would make you smile if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your mom laughing with Paige.

The blonde had her hands occupied with grabbing the plastic utensils from the cupboard. She’s told some joke, one you know isn’t really all that funny, but your mom loves her and as a result laughs hard. 

It’s infuriating, how it seems like she’s gotten everyone from your parents to your brothers wrapped around her damn finger. She charmed them so easily, doing favors with that smile and occasional compliment. Enough to get on their good side but not enough to be deemed a kiss ass.

You fucking hated it. Hated her.

“Look who finally got off their ass.” Your mom teases, walking over and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Come mix this salad up for me, honey.”

“Yes ma’am.” You murmur, more upset that the instruction forces you to stand in front of Paige rather than literally anywhere else.

Taking the salad tongs in your hands, you do as asked. And Paige does her own thing as well, keeping quiet which you find somewhat surprising. It doesn’t take long, thanks to you mom already doing most of the work. You set the bowl of salad off to the side, and the second you do, you meet her eyes.

The blue briefly catches you off guard, like you weren’t expecting them. She doesn’t break eye contact with you for a single second, and you don’t either. It’s one of the few things Paige likes about you, (other than the way your ass looks in your shorts) how you never back down from her.

Ever.

It’s why arguments last so long and why your eye contact does the same.

Her smirk only spreads further, her lip just barely tucked between her teeth. A part of you swears she gets off on seeing you like this, visibly irritated by her presence alone.

She nods her head toward you as a greeting, one that you reciprocate out of kindness.

“You two are like kids.” Ms. Fuller interjects. She stands off to the side with your mother, a wine cooler in her hand. 

“We didn’t do anything.” Paige says, her face scrunching up on instinct.

“But you can’t even speak to each other?” It’s your mom’s turn to speak now, which makes you get more defensive than you probably should.

You kiss your teeth, planting your palms on the island. “We can talk to each other?”

“Then do it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “hi.” You mumble, looking at the woman in her disgustingly blue eyes that just so happened to be raking over you. A part of you thinks you’re thinking things, but no, she really is eying you up and down. 

“Hey.” Paige can’t help but smile, copying your previous movements of pressing your hands to the counter. “See, we did it.” She says.

“We talk a lot anyways.”

“You argue a lot, that’s not the same.” Your dad’s voice comes from nowhere, as last time you saw him he was heading to the grill. 

Paige laughs. Audible and amused and annoying as ever. Like she agrees, which really doesn’t matter, but the thought of her thinking of you like that adds unnecessary flame to the growing fire inside you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out grilling?” You ask. 

“Food’s all done, everyone’s coming inside.” Your dad explains. Then he looks to Paige, clapping both palms on her shoulders. “I let your girls know you were in here, they were asking about you.”

Paige nods, an appreciative smile spreading on her face. “I ‘preciate that. Yo, princess, where the plates at?”

The pet name makes you freeze in your tracks. Paige has probably been calling you that since middle school, it’s nowhere near new. But there’s something different about it now, it sends a chill down your spine.

“One: don’t call me that. Two: check the cabinet.” You shrug, turning away from the island as people piled into the house. The sudden noise that came with all your relatives piling in, luckily shut out what Paige was saying to you.

“Yeah, I already did that, which is exactly why I’m asking you.” She calls out. There’s a certain bitterness in her voice that pisses you off.

You spin back around, slightly taken aback by how close she had come to you in a matter of seconds. Paige towers over you, all six feet of her working to intimidate you. “This is your dad’s cabin but you can’t figure out where the damn plates are?”

“I’m just askin’ a question, princess.”

“A stupid question. And I said quit fuckin’ calling me that—”

“See that’s that shit—”

“Enough!” Your mom is quick to cut you both off before the yelling even gets a chance to escalate. She steps between the both of you, trying her hardest to deescalate the situation. “You, run to the store and grab some paper plates. Paige go with her.”

If she wasn’t your mom you would’ve rolled your eyes until they got stuck in the back of your head. 

“She doesn’t need to come with me.”

“Ion need to go with her.” 

It’s like suddenly both of your parents' eyes lock on you and Paige, enough to get the both of you to shut up and let out matching groans as you head for the exit.

��

The cool air that comes from the sliding glass doors is almost considered a blessing in the July heat. You take the initiative to walk in front of the blonde in search of the paper plates, any opportunity to get some space from her since your argument.

You thought it would end the second you got in the car, which she insisted on driving. But no, you both had to argue about who’s playing music, who’s paying, who’s to blame for not getting plates in the first place (which in your heart and soul, you know is Paige).

So yeah, heated would be the right word to describe the both of you. But even as you were able to cool down, Paige couldn’t.

Not when you looked like that.

She hated you, that wasn’t something that she thought would change. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have eyes.

You were attractive, like beyond words. Add on the jeans shorts you wore and the expanse of your back that was left exposed by your tank top— she was riled up all over again.

It was like you did it on purpose. You chose to walk in front of her, chose to sway your hips like that, chose to piss her off on any given day even when she wasn’t in Minnesota. And there’s nothing more that Paige would like to do, than put you in your place. 

Talking is fun, but the grin that would come to her face after seeing you crumble under her would be even more fun. More exciting. Something that she’d always be able to bring up. How she won.

It didn’t take long for you to find the plates, the second you grabbed them you were quick to turn on your heels, nudging her shoulder a bit too harshly for her liking. A part of Paige wanted to grab you back by your belt loop, but she refrained.

She scoffs, licking her lips as she follows behind you. “Keep fuckin’ playin’ with me, bro. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

“And if I do?” You respond with an over confidence that Paige has become quite familiar with in the over 20 years you’ve been around.

I’ll fuck the attitude out of you, is what Paige so dearly wanted to respond with. But instead she chooses to keep it as cordial as she can. “You wanna find out?”

And it’s something about how her voice lowers that makes your eyes soften and your guard lower, even in the midst of your eye contact. 

It’s small, so small that you barely even notice it yourself. But Paige isn’t dumb, she knows the effect that she has on women. Knows how that tone of voice makes girls want to squeeze their legs together. 

It’s just that this time, it’s you. The girl who she’s known her entire life, since you were the short nerdy girl at Hopkins with the braces. You’re grown up now, and Paige loves every bit of it, except she didn’t picture you like that. 

—

When you get back to the house, you’re quick to dissect yourself from Paige. She’d already been too close today, and her little stunt in the grocery store had you desperately racking your lungs for some air.

You sat on the deck alongside Caroline, who had seemingly grown tired of her teammates. 

You both are quiet, looking off into the sky and how the sun decorates it in an orange hue. Carol nurses and diet coke, and you switch out your empty plate of ribs for your twisted tea.

The sky looks pretty, but you can’t help but think Paige looks prettier. You hate how you can’t keep your eyes off of her. She’s glowing, and her skin is extra tan. Since the natty game in April, she looks stronger. Everywhere. Her arms, sure, but it’s her quads and calves too. And then when she leans back, stretching her arms over her head, you think her abs are even more defined too.

You can’t help but stare, it’s like she’s tempting you.

“You wanna know something?” Caroline starts, darting her head down to look at you.

“Hmm?”

“I think you have feelings for Paige.”

You nearly fold in half with how hard you start laughing. The blonde was hot, sure, but feelings for her was just plain… no. Not for you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not! You like her, but you don’t like that because you’ve been beefing for years.” She starts, sounding like she’s putting together all the pieces. “So you fight and try to push her away.”

“If I liked someone, why would I push them away?”

“I dunno. I haven’t figured you out yet.” Carol shrugs. “But I do know that you like to argue. And Paige likes arguing with you even though she won’t admit it.”

“Whatever.” You sigh, if you kept your words to a minimum you’d avoid proving her right. You decide to get up from your seat, collecting yours and her trash to take inside. 

“Look, there goes your girl.” She jokes. Paige has decided to follow suit, dragging herself through the screen door and into the nearly empty cabin. 

“Goodbye, Caroline.” You sing on your way inside. 

Paige leans on the same kitchen island you both were arguing around hours ago. Her hands are attempting to open a beer bottle and struggling.

“You need help with that?” You ask.

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder at you before shaking her head. “Nah. I’m good, princess.” She dismissed you. 

When the bottle cap finally came off, she tossed it in the nearby trash, as you did the same with yours. You trail around the island, ignoring the feeling of her eyes on you as Paige moves closer. They’re like lasers, burning holes into your skin as you stop in your place near her.

“Can we talk?”

You immediately start getting concerned, probably more than you’d like to admit. Her tone shifted awfully fast, and you’re even quicker to put your guard up.

“What do you want, Paige?”

“Imma ask you something, and it’s just a yes or no question, so relax.” Paige dodges your question. She pushed herself off the counter, turning so she stands right in front of you. The spout of her beer bottle sits against her lips— her full, pink, lips. “Are you attracted to me?”

You dart your head away from her, deciding that looking Paige in the eye while she asks you that question is a recipe for disaster. 

“Bro, move.” You scoff, pressing your hand to her abdomen.

But she’s fast, grabbing your wrist before you get the chance to fully push her off of you. The sudden shift between you two was shocking. The balcony door was only some feet away, and if anyone outside looked hard enough they’d see you. But even then, the house was silent— other than your heavy breathing. 

It’s just you and Paige.

The ridges of her abs are evident even through her shirt, hard and warm from summer heat. For a second you think about how they’d feel under you. Each muscle on your clit, flexing, glistening from how wet you’d be. 

She takes another step, effectively pushing you further into the countertop. “Yes or no?”

Your head darts to the side, looking away in an attempt to hide the growing heat in your core. She was winning. Paige was winning and you fucking hated it almost as much as you claimed to hate her.

The blonde grips your chin, steadying her other, beer clad hand at your waist. The feeling is so foreign, but almost… normal? Her hand is cool, which is a nice contrast to the burning feeling of your own skin.

“Y’want me to ask again? Or you got it?” Paige makes a show of licking her bottom lip.

“I hate you, so no.”

“Do you?” She asks. The half empty beer bottle sits on the counter. Paige grips your hips to turn you around, and you can’t even fight it, she’s stronger than you, and even more determined to break you down.

“Paige…” You groan. The island digs into your hips as she presses into you from behind.

“‘Cause I thought I did too. But you wear these damn clothes and Ion think I do anymore.” Paige explains, her breath fanning your ear. 

She teases you with her hand at the hem of your shorts, playing with the frayed fabric near the curve of your ass. Paige does it like it’s a sixth sense, like she’s had you like this forever rather than it at all.

It makes your heart race, breathing quicken, panties dampen. Never in your life did you think that Paige fucking Bueckers would be the one to make you feel like that but here you are. Fucking soaked off of her. But you’d never let her know about how much she was affecting you. It was always a competition with her. You’d rather win than give her even the slightest upper hand.

“You’re a bitch.” You murmur. On any other day it would sound confident, like you believed it, but not today. Just with Paige standing behind you, you feel quiet and little.

Her hand travels to your hair, a part of her wants to tug it back as hard as she can but she chooses against it. Paige tucks a strand behind your ear and leans in closer. “Really? This bitch got you dripping down your legs right now.”

“I’m not doing this with you.” You grit through your teeth. With what little strength you have you turn around, hands pressed to Paige’s chest. “I’m goin’ back outside.”

“But we ain’t don’t talking, ma. Tell me why you hate me so bad.” 

Her voice lowers the same way it did in the store earlier. Gravely and a little tainted by alcohol.

You think about calling her a bitch again. The way you saw her face get all riled up was something you’d like to see again. Or tell her how much her big ego made you want to punch her. There’s a lot of reasons you thought you hated the girl, but all of them seemed minor in comparison to how fucking bad you wanted her.

Her mouth and those pretty pink lips. Her fingers curling inside you. Her moaning in your ear. It was like you needed Paige to survive.

“You think the fuckin’ world revolves around you.”

“Me? Says the princess who thinks everything should go her way.” 

You shove past her, finally seeing your exit opportunity. “Whatever, Paige—”

“Y’know, Ion like this attitude you got.” She starts, following you as you walk. You don’t know where, but you’re damn sure it wasn’t outside. “Because as soon as we get outta here, you’re back on that same shit.”

You stop in your tracks. “So fucking what! What are you gonna do about it.”

Paige nods her head, curt and amused. Her plump bottom lip just barely juts out towards you before she leans in. Her scent travels through your nose— Dior Sauvage, typical.

“Come wimme.” She brushes past you without a look back as she heads toward the basement. Paige can only hope you follow her, only hope that you want it as bad.

And you do. So you follow.

—

If it was anything you learned throughout your entire ordeal with Paige, it’s that she’s a damn good kisser.

Maybe she liked being yelled at. Or maybe she just thought you were fucking hot. Either way, the basement door shut, she was on you like white on rice. You both nearly fell down the stairs, hands grabbing whatever you could reach.

It was messy, teeth and spit and tongue, but it was otherworldly.

Paige tasted like honey, outrageously sweet despite the fact that she’d never been sweet to you. Her tongue roams your mouth, hands on your ass as she backs you into the wall.

“You can’t handle me.” You breathe, tangling your hands in her hair. “I should show you some’.”

Paige laughs, shaking her head into the kiss. "You've shown me enough. It's my turn, right? I been too nice.”

Her hand darts to your shorts, unbuttoning them and forcing them down your legs. Paige is fucking rough, like there’s nothing but rage rushing through her blood. And you want nothing more than for her to take it out on you. You’re the reason for it all anyways.

“Shit probably weak as hell anyways.” 

Paige kisses her teeth. “Take all this shit off.”

You make a show of bringing your hands to the hem of the cropped shirt as you bring it over your head. It joined your shorts on the carpeted floor, leaving you in front of Paige in nothing but your purple panties. It’s almost coincidental that the woman she fought with whenever she was around now stood here in her favorite color. 

She tucks her lip between her teeth, bringing her hand to your waist. 

“No bra like a damn slut, huh?” Her tongue clicks on the roof of her mouth, almost like she’s shaming you. But you don’t mind, you almost like it too much.

She decides to reach for your tits, squeezing them in her palms in a rough manner that makes you gasp and arch into her. Paige plays with your nipples, fingers rolling over them, feeling them get hard as she drips into her boxers.

“You wanna fuck me or keep talking shit?”

“I can’t do both?” Paige asks as she kisses you. It’s anything but soft. Her hands grip your boobs harder, tongue licking at your own. It’s like she’s trying to become one with you, take over your whole body. “Gotta make you my fuckin’ whore.”

She pulls away again, only for a second, before she kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. Her tongue was hot and wet as she sucked against a spot under your jaw that made your fucking knees weak.

It was like Paige knew you already. She was good at making you sweat from anger, but she was damn good at making you sweat like this. Making your thighs press together to relieve that pressure.

Her lips trail lower and lower, down to the center of your chest which she makes a show of licking. 

Paige kissed patterns down your thighs, starting sweet until her teeth dig into them. She does it over and fucking over, marking you in the most painful way she can think off all while staring up at you through her lashes.

It was a sight you wanted burned in your brain forever. Paige, on her knees, lips on your body like she was worshiping you. Maybe there was a reason why her ego was so big, because she was already going to make you come and your panties hadn’t even come off yet.

“Paige… just, fuck.” You press your head back against the wall, cupping her head with your hand. “Fuckin’ eat me.”

Her blues dart down to your cunt, the cotton material suddenly darker than the rest of your panties. “You’re wet as hell, ma. Been wanting my tongue on you for how long?”

Your pussy throbs in your panties as a result. You could never tell her the real answer, that somewhere along the line of you knowing Paige you’d trail your hand down in your pants and think about her. Or that you would wish all those girls that she’d be with were secretly you.

So instead you say, “why the hell would I— fuck— want you?” The stutter comes from her thumb on your clothed clit, applying pressure that makes your eyes water. Paige pulled your panties down slowly, they pool on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely fucking naked.

A string of your slick sticks follows down with your underwear. “Whatchu dripping for then, princess?” Her hand grips your bruised thigh, guiding it over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me it’s Azzi that got this pussy like this?”

You tug her hair, watching her groan at the pressure. She thinks about leaving you like this, wet and horny and nude, stopping you from even having a chance at getting off. But your scent alone makes her change her mind. She’s a bitch to you but not that fucking bitchy, not enough to taint her reputation by not letting you come.

So she licks her lips, leaning into and wrapping her lips around your clit. That eye contact you always seem to have with her doesn’t stop even for a second. 

“God, P. J-just like that.” You moan, hips bucking into her mouth. 

Paige’s tongue licks through your folds. She’s so fucking into it, like your taste alone could make her full for centuries. It’s damn near the best head you’ve had in your life, her tongue knows exactly where to touch and flick, her lips know the perfect pressure to suck. She was fucking good.

“You got no clue how fuckin’ good you taste.” She murmurs, tongue stretched flat over your cunt. The sounds of her sucking and your slick bounce off the walls. “This pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

Your legs shake, inching closer and closer to your precious orgasm. Your other hand travels to her hair, fucking your hips into her fast. It pisses the blonde off, her obvious need for control over you more important.

“Paige gimme mmph more. I need it, baby.” You grunt. 

Her hands tug your own off of her. She pins them to your sides, dragging her tongue inside your cunt then out over your clit. Your moans get louder, you’re lucky that all your relatives are outside or you would’ve gotten caught forever ago. 

Paige’s nose brushes against your clit, aiding to the sensitivity. And the second you think about announcing your climax, she pulls back from you. A shit-eating grin covering her soaked face.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Paige wipes your near orgasm from her mouth. “What’d I do, mama?”

“You know what you did, you asshole!” Your hand presses against her chest, an attempt to shove her back but Paige is obviously stronger than you had imagined.

Her demeanor shifts in a matter of seconds. She trails her hands to the back of her collar, tucking her shirt off and behind her. Her black sports bra accentuates the tan of her skin, revealing just enough of her abs to make you want to get on your knees and fucking lick them. 

Paige grips your chin. Your jaw falls slack as a result. You don’t know what to really expect, but when you watch her saliva fall from the tip of your tongue, you almost pass out. It lands in your mouth a hot glob that tastes just like you did. She wipes the dribble from your lips and you swallow without a second thought.

“See, always talkin’ to me crazy. That’s why I do that shit.” She presses. Deciding to spin you around, she does, pushing up against the wall so close that you can smell the paint. Paige hand curls around your neck, applying enough pressure to knock your head back onto her shoulder. “I fuckin’ hate your ass, y’know that?”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of her free hand brushing over your cunt. “Really? ‘Cause I always catch you staring at it, babe.”

Your hands press to the wall as Paige forces her knee between your thighs, spreading you apart until a pain shoots up your thighs. “Tell me how bad you hate me.”

“Why, does it turn you on?” You question, pushing back against her for any type of friction.

She breathes into your ear, following that with a bite. The blonde tugs on your earlobe, grinning to herself at the groan you give her as a result. “So bad, ma. You turn me on.”

Her fingers follow immediately after. You’d think that she’d be nice enough to give you a minute but she didn’t, forcing two fingers inside you like she couldn’t care less about anything but stretching you out.

“I, fuckkkkk! I hate—hate how sexy you are. Hate how wet I get around you.” You moan. Paige curls her fingers, seemingly pleased with your words.

Her grip on your neck tightens as she speeds up, pushing and curling and twisting her fingers so deep inside you can’t be quiet. Not when it feels that good. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Yes!” You cry. The noise of your cunt fills your ears, the trickle of your wetness travels down your leg as you struggle to keep up. Paige slips in a third finger and your knees buckle. “Daddy…it’s too much.” You whimper.

“Yeah, it’s like that?” Her fingers are breaking you apart, moans falling from your mouth so loud you’re surprised you haven’t gotten caught yet. “Watchu want, princess?”

“M’ gonna come. Please, please I’m so close.” You moan, arching your back further at the pleasure of it all. 

Your hands try to steady yourself on the wall, trembling at the pressure of her fingers against your g-spot. Your pussy clenches around her fingers, dripping down them as you cry out her name over and fucking over.

“There’s those manners, ma. I ain’t even know you’d had ‘em with how you cuss at me.” She grumbles in your ear. “Fucking hot.” 

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Oh, Paige!” Your orgasm hits like you’ve never fucking imagined, dripping all the way down your legs to the carpet. Your breath is heavy, tits pressed against the cold wall as she works you through it.

Paige trails her fingers out, wiping them against the back of her shorts. “Did we really just—”

“Yeah.” You pant.

There’s a beat of silence in the room, the occasional sounds of fireworks going off down by the lake as they do every year. But instead you’re here, sweat coating your body and your cum down her fingers. Paige’s fingers.

Then her phone starts ringing, and you’re reminded that there’s a life outside of the basement in which you hate Paige and she hates you right back.

You turn to face her, how swollen her lips are, how missed her hair is. “We’ll talk later?”

You nod, thinking that’s the end of it until she cups your face and kisses you. There’s a certain passion behind this one, less tongue and more sweetness. It's the sweetest Paige has been to you, well ever.

“Yeah, later.”

And then she’s grabbing her shirt and darting up the stairs. 

But not before pointing out that you should cover the hickeys on your thighs.

[menciemeer]

I agree--this was my (tentative) conclusion as well. I mean, it seems like it’s one of these two choices: either the scene with Freddie and Hannibal didn’t mean anything, or he encourages/approves of the article. Since we’re fairly starved for options, we might as well pick the latter!

I went script-diving for backup on this and only really found a bit, but I think that bit is pretty interesting. Immediately after the scene with Freddie, we cut to Jack and Hannibal having dinner. They’re eating pork (quote/unquote? I mean, probably) which on first viewing you of course assume is Freddie! I do think it’s funny that she gets fake-cannibalized twice.

In a bit of deleted dialogue, Jack asks Hannibal why he thinks Will went back to therapy. Will has already been rubber-stamped at this point; he no longer needs to go in order to keep his job. Hannibal’s response is:

JACK CRAWFORD Why did he [Will] go back [to therapy]?

HANNIBAL A guy like Will Graham? I'm sure he recognizes the necessity of his own support structure if he's to go on supporting you in the field.

JACK CRAWFORD Will Graham knows exactly what's going on in his head, which is why he doesn't want anyone in there.

The conversation from there shifts more towards Jack’s feelings of responsibility in general, rather than their theories about Will’s current mental state. So, ok, here’s some wild speculation:

At this point, it’s really not a foregone conclusion that Will is going to continue therapy at all. As I said already, he doesn’t need to anymore, and both Jack and Hannibal know that he’s resistant to the whole idea.

Hannibal, of course, is already interested and wants to keep him in therapy

In order to do this, Hannibal would like to set himself up as Will’s support network--ideally, maybe, his only source of stability. Later in this same episode is the point they first talk about Hannibal as Will’s “paddle.”

What better way to do that than to make sure Will feels particularly isolated because popular(?) journalist writes a hit piece on him? This can definitely be read as an early attempt at destabilizing and isolating Will, which he continues and intensifies through the whole of S1.

Of course this is all in addition to the angle where this article leads Stammets in particular towards Will. Never only one train of thought & all that. I just think this is a nice confluence of some of Hannibal’s short- and long-term goals.

love that moment when hannibal is like "you've been terribly rude ms lounds, what's to be done about that" and then absolutely nothing is ever done about that

[softsunnyy]

Quinn Hughes would be the happiest man alive if he could stay with his face buried in your pussy and this is a hill I will die on

-🐥

so… i did something 👉🏻👈🏻

this is also @ruinix fault !!

🚨 oral sex... and kinda a drugged subby Quinn, oops 🚨

poorly written, i literally finished this right before going to sleep, so i'll just post it and check in the morning. DON'T KILL ME.

Quinn is watching, trying to contain himself. He plays with his hands nervously, trying to hide the effect you have on him, but it gets harder and harder every second.

he´s sure it all started that morning, when you put on that perfume. The same one he smells on your neck every time you two fuck. Every time he's buried in your pussy and trying to hide his face, biting your skin, growling, even whimpering. It's an addictive scent, it drives him crazy, but today he particularly feels it more than ever. He's smelled it before you appear in every room.

his senses are more alert, his eyes glassy, his bulge aches, and he starts to sweat coldly. It's like you do it on purpose. As if you know the effect it has on him and decide to use it against him today, when all his friends and teammates are invited to the house. When he can't do anything about it, because all eyes and attention will be on him, so he can't take you to the bathroom and make you his.

it's stressful, and he's getting grumpier and grumpier. His eyes travel over your body, and he´s getting distracted in the middle of conversations now.

he sees how your clothes hug your figure. You look beautiful, as always, but this time his feelings are more intense. And his eyes travel to your legs, seeing how you squeeze them, how they move when you walk, how they expand when you sit. He sees how you move your head when you talk, and how your hands try to match the passion with which you converse.

he tries to see your chest, your ass, and feels like a pervert, but he can't help it, and some of his teammates have started to notice, teasing him, with huge smiles on their faces, not understanding the torture this is for him.

his cock aches, and he tries to hide it, to fix his pants, to adjust his posture, but nothing works, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore your existence, but failing. And he feels like he might cry and come when you approach his side, hugging his arm, resting your head on his shoulder, and waving at one of the boys. He smells you, he can't help it, and then he loses himself even more.

memories, images, his head filled with all the things he'd love to do to you, and you can feel his body almost shaking from how tense he is, causing you to smile. You know what you're doing, you know what you're causing, and you're completely entertained watching your boyfriend, normally so dominant with you, turn into a ball of arousal, a bundle of nerves who will do whatever you ask. And he doesn't even know the real reason behind it. He doesn't know what you did.

and when the meeting drags on a bit, he feels like he might start begging. He's capable of kneeling, screaming for you to please help him, to touch his cock, to even give him a kiss, because he knows that's all it takes for him to cum and stain his pants.

it's pathetic.

his cheeks are red, and he constantly runs his tongue over his lips, feeling his dry throat. He looks everywhere, lost, and tries to find you once more, because you've left him, and he feels like he can't stand it. You can't leave him, not even for a second. And when his eyes find you, he sighs in relief, feeling his underwear slightly wet, sticky. He knows he's on the edge, and he can't understand what's happening.

he tries to remember, to understand when it all started. When he woke up, he felt attracted to you, of course he did, but everything got even worse when this started, when his friends arrived and he tried to have a drink with them. You had handed him a glass of something; and that's all. From that moment on, he began to feel strange, heated, increasingly confused. And he tries to put the pieces together, to understand what you did to him, and normally that would have led to you being brutally punished, but now he feels helpless. He feels like he can't control you.

he can only beg.

and when his friends finally leave, there's silence, tense and charged. You turn your back on him, waiting for him to speak, to come closer, to whimper or cry. But you don't hear anything, and you're alarmed, so you're about to turn to face him. At that moment, Quinn takes your hand, hurriedly, without care, and leads you to the bedroom, trying not to stumble.

then, when you enter the room, he turns to look at you, cupping your face in both hands, pulling you close, kissing you.

and it's desperate, you feel it. It steals your breath and you try to put your hands on his arms, searching for support because your legs want to give up, like every time you feel his lips. He leaves a kiss, and another, and another. And you can hear him whimper, how he moans in pain for his cock, and how his body grows weaker and weaker, until he finally falls to his knees in front of you.

you have him.

and you look down on him, making him feel small, consumed, at your mercy for the first time. He stares at you with his bright, glassy eyes, completely attentive. He's stunned, and you can see the dark patch on his pants. You can literally do whatever you want. So you decide to give him a show.

he doesn't touch you, he doesn't dare, but he feels like he's going to come when you start to take off your shirt, followed by your bra. You let him see your tits, and for a moment he's about to drool, watching them bounce, how the air makes your nipples harden rapidly. He wants to kiss, suck. He wants to put his face on your chest and leave the marks of his fingers, his teeth. Anything.

he wants to come on your skin, watch his cum run thickly between your tits. Or over your nipples. And every thought makes him want to move, but something stops him. Your gaze.

your eyes are intimidating, full of leadership, of power, and he won't do anything unless you ask him to, even though he feels like he's about to die from not being able to touch you.

"what do you wanna do, Quinn?" you ask him, and he wants to whine when he hears his name. “I need you to tell me what you want.”

he swallows, trying not to look at your tits so he can look at your face. He tries to formulate words, to say something coherent, but it takes him a couple of seconds to think of anything.

“please…” he mumbles.

“what?” you ask, leaning in slightly, your tits closer to him.

“please, just let me touch you... please.” you can see he’s desperate, his cheeks flushed, and then you nod.

“fine,” you said, and before his eyes, you took off your pants, slowly, missing the way his eyes wandered to your legs, to the bite marks adorning your thighs, or to the bruises on your knees from every time you’d been in his position. Then you took off your panties, and he could see the dark stain of your arousal, letting him know he wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

then you moved to the bed, sitting on the edge, watching as he moved closer, quickly, scraping his skin, making his knees turn red. When he was in front of you, you opened your legs, showing him your glistening, wet, hot pussy. He can smell your arousal and you nod, giving him the green light.

Quinn doesn't hesitate. His hands spread your legs even wider, and his face buries in your pussy, devouring you. His tongue runs between your folds, and you can hear him swallowing your juices, instantly becoming drunk on your fluids.

he's always loved eating you out, but now? now he feels like he's on another level. In heaven.

he plays with your clit, sucking, licking, listening to you whimper as one of your hands tangles in his hair, trying to pull him even closer. And he complies, taking over your pussy, which welcomes him, dripping wet.

your hole throbs, your clit swells, and he doesn't stop moving, making out with your lips, making sure your moans are loud and clear. Unconsciously, he moves his pelvis and rubs himself against the floor and the edge of the bed, stimulating his cock, sending shocks of pleasure through him that make him moan, grunt, and become even wilder and more primal. He wants to cum, he wants to make you cum.

he doesn't even need to get inside of you; he just wants to eat you out, even if his tongue goes numb, his jaw cramps, and his knees break. Nothing matters to him, just you and your sweet, addictive pussy, which has him in the clouds.

and you try to go along with the plan, conscious, but it's so hard, and all you can do is throw your head back, moaning his name like a broken record, feeling his tongue everywhere, doing what he knows you like.

even though the idea was to torture him, you can't deny how much it turned you on to see him so desperate, and for hours, you waited for this moment, making your pussy more than ready for him, for anything.

Quinn is good at what he does, he knows it, and he knows he doesn't even need to use his fingers, thrusting his tongue into your hole, being welcomed by your tight walls, which throbbed around him, acknowledging him, welcoming him home. And he lingered, drugged by the sensations, his mind completely clouded.

all he can think about is devouring you, making you cum again and again so he can keep feeling your taste, your juices. And you know it, you know he can go on for hours, and the thought alone excites you.

soon, a knot begins to form in your belly, and you know what's coming, but you don't warn him, because you know he knows. And when he notices, he begins to rub himself harder, widening the stain on his pants, feeling his cock throb, furious, red, marked by his veins and with his swollen tip, his balls eager to release his cum.

it's when he feels you cumming that he allows himself to do it. But he doesn't let you rest; he keeps moving, keeps swallowing, feeling drop after drop of your cum run down his chin, wetting his neck and soon his chest. His pants are soaked, completely sticky, with thick white strips wasted, but his cock is just as hard as it was at the beginning.

and you moan, trying to beg him to slow down, to give you a few seconds, but he's physically incapable of doing that. He feels drunk, he needs to keep drinking from you, and nothing's going to get him out of your pussy, not when he's stronger and desperate.

you gave him access to the only thing he needs, and he doesn't even care if he has to ruin his pants now just to stay there. He's willing to do whatever it takes.

he loves your pussy.

so, for now, get ready; he won't stop until he's gotten a good number of orgasms out of you.

whatever you gave him, it worked.

[itsmedemibones]

I Choo-choose You week

Day 4- Date

Okay oops. I'm not as happy with this one for some reason, so please have the relevant excerpt from my WIP Ingo/Reader fic.

Flustered Ingo tooth-rotting-sugary fluff under the cut.

The Tracks We Take

The park is peaceful this time of day, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the trees, casting dappled light across the grass. Your Pokémon play nearby— Darumaka happily chasing after Duosion, who bobs along, unbothered by his antics, like a bubble on the breeze. Ingo’s team roams, enjoying the open air, though his Excadrill sits in the shade, half-buried in the dirt, content to rest.

You're leaning back on your hands, legs stretched out across the large blanket Ingo had brought. It's peaceful. It's almost hard to imagine that you had both been so nervous for this. It's your first date, but it feels… right. Easy. The wind ruffles your hair and you breathe in a deep, content breath. 

And yet.

For the last few minutes, you’ve watched Ingo, seated beside you, slowly become more tense. His previously loose posture has become rigid and he's fidgeting with a blade of grass, brows furrowed as he stares intently at the ground.

He wants to say something.

You know him well enough to see the signs. That way his shoulders keep tensing; how he inhales as if to speak, only to stop and exhale again, silent.

You wait, giving him time. There's no rush. 

But after his third failed attempt, you can't help but to take pity on him. You shift a bit closer, brushing your hand lightly over his. The contact startles him, and he flinches slightly, grass falling to the blanket.

"Ingo," you say gently. "Whatever it is, I promise there's nothing you could say that would make me love you any less."

His breath catches.

Slowly, he turns to look at you, his expression unreadable. Stunned, maybe, like he hadn’t expected you to call him out on his hesitance. 

Then he swallows, and you see the tiniest twitch of the muscle in his jaw as he gathers his courage.

"Y/N," he says, his normally booming voice almost hushed. "I... I wish to ask you something that has been weighing on my mind."

You nod, moving your hand to slowly, deliberately squeeze his. "Go ahead."

He inhales deeply.

You're not sure what you expect. You're already past declarations of love. He's asked you on a date. What could he still be so–

"I wish to know… what you have imagined about me."

Your brain stutters to a halt, shocked at the sheer boldness of the request coming from Ingo of all people.

But despite his boldness, he looks like he might faint just from the mere thought that you've imagined him at all.

You remember the day you confessed that you love him. How Emmet had casually teased Ingo, asking how the real thing compared to the (many, many) nights he apparently lay awake imagining you doing so. How Ingo had felt so terribly embarrassed, thinking it indecent to imagine such things without your consent. 

Your lips part, then close. You bite your lip realizing you aren't sure how to answer. 

You take a moment, studying him. The tightness around his eyes. The way he stares at your hand on his, as though it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. The way his ears are a furious shade of red.

And you understand. 

He wants to know, but he’s also terrified to know.

So you take your time, ever so gently twining your fingers with his. You can feel how warm he is, how his fingers twitch against yours, how he’s bracing as though expecting an impact.

"Ingo," you murmur, smiling softly. With his level of tension, you do have to wonder… "Would you like me to tell you the safe things I’ve imagined, or… or the scandalous ones?"

He– whimpers.

That's the only word for the strangled sound that espapes his tight throat. Quickly, he looks away, free hand coming up to press against his mouth as if that will somehow contain his mortification.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand.

And that?

Tells you all you need to know.

—Ingo—

Ingo swallows, staring at the blanketed ground between you both as he struggles to find his words. He should not have asked. Arceus, what had possessed him to ask?

You are patient. You always are. You squeeze his hand gently, steadying him like a coupler, keeping his engine on the track despite his spiraling thoughts.

"Alright," you say at last when he still does not answer. Your voice is warm, reassuring. "I'll start with the innocent things."

He exhales slowly, tension in his shoulders easing just a bit even as he trembles slightly. It is not everything you have imagined, but it is… some of it, and perhaps... perhaps he can handle that much.

"I've imagined us doing things like this," you say softly, gesturing to the picnic spread. "Spending time together, talking, sharing meals. Just... being with you. I’ve imagined holding your hand while we walk through Gear Station, or bringing you a coffee while you work. Maybe lunch, during a busy day."

His breath hitches. That is– that is something he had not realized was even a possibility. You, beside him in the place that matters to him most. You continue on, seemingly unaware of the impact your words are having– he feels unsteady on the tracks. At risk of derailment. 

"I’ve imagined you letting me borrow your coat when it's cold, because I know you’d do it in a heartbeat."

He clears his throat, trying not to sound as flustered as he feels. "That is… correct." He would gladly do so. Would love to do so. The thought of seeing you in his coat is also- pleasant.

He glances over. Sees your pleased grin, and the sight of it makes his heart stutter.

"And sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I imagine what it would be like if I could just rest my head against you. If you’d let me. If you’d want me to."

Ingo has no idea how to respond to that.

He tightens his grip on your hand instead, holding on to your warmth like a lifeline.

"Y/N…" he says, but nothing else follows.

He feels you lean in slightly, toeing the line of too close as your expression turns playful. Turns– knowing.

And then, in a voice so soft it barely exists, you whisper…

"But Ingo, I've also imagined kissing you."

His body jerks.

His mind goes utterly blank.

The words should not be scandalous. He should not be this affected. But he is.

It is too much.

Yet it is perfect.

He grips your hand tighter. Not exactly in panic. He just– cannot let go.

You watch him, waiting. Patient as always. Giving him space, giving him time.

"I just thought you should know," you say, so, so gently. Then you lean out of his space, slipping easily back as if you have not just derailed his engine entirely. "Now, do you want another berry skewer? Or should we go check on the Pokémon?"

Ingo does not know how to answer.

He cannot answer.

All he knows is that he is still holding your hand, and despite everything, despite how overwhelmed he is… he does not want to let go.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Yandere AIB Boys - They sacrifice players at a game

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Summary: It's the first time you watch them purposely lead other players to their deaths and that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. [Arisu, Chishiya, Niragi]

WARNINGS: Toxic/Unhealthy Relationship; Manipulation; minor Violence. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊 first reaction template for the aib boys and i really hope you guys enjoy this, pls give me some feedback! 💖

--

Arisu

“Don’t look at me like that. Please.” Arisu begs, voice flooding with emotion. He reaches for your hand, but you dodge him. You can’t stand the thought of him touching you. 

The silence is heavy, both of you hesitating to speak first. Unsure of what the outcome can be. Scared of how bad your relationship is damaged. 

Arisu is the first to break the silence. 

“I did it for you. For us…” he whispers, voice breaking down mid-sentence. “I want us both to live. Together.”

You look at him. 

“I want that too, Arisu.” you argue. “But it doesn’t mean I’m willing to plot against people’s lives just for that. The point is you lied to me.”

“It’s not like th-”

“You lied to me. On purpose.” your voice raises, matching the anger you’re feeling. “Kept me in the dark the entire game. Made me believe your plan was actually good when in reality…. fuck, you just wanted to kill all of the players. And now they’re dead.” 

Tears overflow from your eyes and you bury your face in your hands, feeling broken with the turn of events of the last game. Even with closed eyes, you can still visualize the pool of blood and bodies in the game arena.

All because of you and your blind trust in Arisu. 

Arisu takes a step closer to you, slowly and with ease. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around you. He sighs when you don’t fight him back, his hold tightening around you. 

“I just… I had to.” his breathing falls over your hair, deep and heavy, voice laced with something akin to regret. “It was them or us. And I choose us to live.”

When he speaks again, it’s so low that you almost don’t catch the words. 

“And I’d do it again every time.”

Chishiya

“Are you upset?”

Chishiya leans against the wall of the small bathroom, hands in his pockets. Eyes staring at you through the mirror. 

Your hand falters for a moment but you keep it still, swirling the cotton disk around your face. Removing all traces of makeup. The concealer and eyeliner come out easily under the make-up remover liquid.

You wish it could also remove your memories, especially the ones from tonight’s game, as easily. So many people died without a reason. Too many. 

Part of the blame goes to you. You shouldn’t have convinced them to join Chishiya’s plan. Even though you didn’t know his real plan, it’s still your fault that they are dead.

You didn’t think straight. You tried to help them but only ended up making things worse. You feel useless. Brainless. So pathetic. 

“It was a complicated game. Not everyone would have won it.” his words dig deeper into your wounds. “We should consider ourselves lucky for having survived.”

You finally meet his stare, eyes glaring at him through the mirror in front of you. 

There’s no hint of remorse or regret over his actions. Part of you doesn’t believe Chishiya to be capable of feeling them. He’s too stoic and practical to experience such conflicting emotions. 

“You could’ve helped them.” you murmur, voice so soft and low as a lightweight feather. 

The only reaction on Chishiya’s face is an almost imperceptible curl of his lips. 

“I suppose I could’ve, yes.” he agrees, the faintest amusement glinting in his eyes. “But I didn’t. Because that’s not my job. It’s their lives, so they can figure out how to survive.”

He pushes himself off the wall, taking a few steps until he’s behind you. You almost shudder when he pulls one hand from the white jacket, softly caressing the back of your head. 

“If there’s one lesson these games teach is that we aren’t immortal. We aren’t heroes either. We can’t save everyone.” 

The certainty in his voice is suffocating, overwhelming just like the darkness in his eyes. 

“Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices to win. And I don’t mind sacrificing them for us to live.” 

Niragi

“Shut up, you're annoying me. What a crybaby.” Niragi grunts.

You ignore him, knees pulled up to your chest, face hidden in the safety of your arms. Tears run wildly from your eyes, sobs wrecking your whole body. You feel miserable.

Guilt eats you alive, corrupting you from inside out. 

Niragi huffs, annoyed. He clicks on the television with the DVD player, increasing the volume until it finally drowns your pitiful crying. 

It was all Niragi’s fault - a voice screams loudly in your mind. He’s a monster. You don’t disagree with the voice and the scorching anger slowly builds inside yo, until it spills over. 

“I hate you.” 

It takes less than a fleeting second for Niragi to react. You get aggressively shoved back, breath knocked out from the lungs as your shoulders roughly meet the mattress. 

Your head bumps against the headboard, leaving you somewhat dizzy. 

Niragi growls, hovering on top of you, deadly eyes glaring at you. “Watch your mouth. Just because your friend died doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch.”

The words escape from your mouth against your better judgement. 

“Died?” you repeat, numbness hitting your tongue. “You killed her, Niragi! You- You shot her!” 

“I did that, yeah. So?” His lips curl into a malicious smirk, his hot breath hitting your face.

His fingers curl around your jaw, fingertips painfully digging into the soft skin - a warning. 

“I won us the game, didn’t I? So what if your little friend died? She was gonna die anyways, I just sped things up. What matters is that we’re both alive.”

He doesn’t relent, even when you try to push him away. 

“You’re alive because of me. You owe me your life, you brat. So, don’t be an ungrateful bitch and better start thanking me.” 

[sitepathos]

Imagine the angst if Bruce does end up finding a cure for the Megamycete, but when he injects reader, he starts to calcify immediately bc the megamycete replaced most of his cells already. Reader laughing maniacally as he crumbles bc he won

First of all, I hope everyone had a great holiday season, whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc. Also, Happy New Year to those already in 2025 and to the rest of us still in 2024, hope you’ve found a fun way to ring in the upcoming year!

Second, I’ve had A LOT of people asking me this question (for real, most of my asks are about the Reader dying after the Megamycete is removed) and I just want to say… sips sweet tea.

Sorry, everyone, that is MAJOR spoiler territory and I’m not ready to reveal that information. You’ll just have to wait until climax of the series to find out whether you lose the Megamycete and what happens if you do, or if you prevail over the Bats.

But, for this individual’s ask, let’s just say the Bats do manage to kill the Megamycete, resulting in your death due to it making up much of your body at this point. You slowly but surely turn an alarming shade of white before crumbing into dust, choosing to spend your last few moments of life to mock them, laugh at them, and that “you’ll see them in hell.”

Bruce would be totally destroyed that he’s the reason for his son’s death. Once again, a member of his family is dead, but unlike Joe Chill and Joker, he was the killer, the smoking gun/detonator in his hand. He completely withdraws into his work, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman; doing anything he can think of to keep from being reminded that the last words his son said to him was that he’d see him in hell (he’ll gladly spend the rest of eternity being tortured if it means being near you). He had your calcified remains gathered into a capsule and buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery (despite Alfred’s best efforts to convince him to bury you next to your mother).

Dick is heartbroken, both at his baby brother being dead and that death was preferable over you being with them, your family. While Bruce withdraws, Dick becomes more present, dropping in on his siblings practically every day, asking how their day was, what they’re currently doing, do they want to hang out, etc. He also visits your grave everyday, telling you about his day, what’s going on with the family, and how he regrets not being a better big brother to you and he wishes he could change the past.

Jason separates himself from the family (except Alfred, of course), pissed at them for mistreating you for years, but mostly pissed at himself for doing the same thing. Looking back, he can see that he was so engulfed in his anger, pain, hatred, and sadness and so convinced that he’s the only one in the family that’s suffering that he couldn’t see that you were just like him; if he had gotten his shit together, he would’ve seen that you clearly didn’t belong in this family of batshit crazy vigilantes and you weren’t getting the proper support you needed. If he had, he would’ve snatched you and raised you himself. But he didn’t do that, and he’ll never get the chance to spend anytime with you.

Tim does the same thing as Bruce, drowning himself in his work, both as Tim Drake and Red Robin, but he goes a step further in his spiral into madness that even Bruce couldn’t bring himself to do: obsess over your remains. After your funeral, he dug up the capsule containing the calcified dust that was once you (he has a very concerning obsession with your remains) and brought it to a safe house he had prepared just for this purpose, using all the scientific equipment within it to analyze your remains down to the atomic level, confident that even in this form, you’re still alive (after all, this is a sentient pile of mold we’re taking about, so logic and reason have long since been thrown out the window). When he’s not obsessing over your remains, he’s obsessing over your game studio, having used Drake Industries to acquire it and personally oversees everything it does, telling everyone that he’s doing it to honor you.

Stephanie tries to cheer everyone up, but if even Dick is depressed, there’s nothing she can do. She feels extremely guilty about how she basically threw you away like a child does an old toy after her first week in Wayne Manor. Since Bruce has basically taken over your old room, like he’ll find you there if he goes there enough times, she takes up the burden of taking care of your house (a task she was able to take right from under the noses of Bruce, Tim, and Damian), going through all your possessions every time she’s over there, reading your books, playing the games on your computer, and even sitting in your bed. As she does, she learns a little more about you, making her grief for you even stronger and wishes she could’ve hung out with you.

Cassandra has only known true regret and grief a few times in her life, but her treatment of you and your death are definitely the worse instances of regret and grief she’s ever experience (and probably ever will experience). She accompanies Steph every time she goes to your house, helping clean it, keep your knick-knacks organized, and pointing out anything you may have hidden. As she gazes upon your various collectibles and posters in your game room, she wishes she could’ve gotten to know you more; when she first met you, she deemed you insignificant due to your lack of combat training and low threat level, but she now knows that you were not only a person, but her brother. She only wishes she would’ve learned that lesson before you were taken from them.

Damian is like his father, withdrawing into himself, but he also comes out every now and then to lash out at anyone unfortunate enough to be near him when his anger reaches its boiling point (Jason gives as good as he gets while Dick takes it all in stride). You were his brother and you were suppose to be by his side! When he realized his error, he had made plans for you to be by his side for all the important moments of his life, like when he inevitably inherited the Cowl of Batman, or when he took over Wayne Enterprises, or when he finally triumphed over Drake! But, not only are you dead, but you used your last few moments of death to curse and taunt him. He becomes a time bomb that goes off unexpectedly on a nearly daily basis.

Alfred is absolutely heartbroken over the end of your feud with the family. He knew that you wouldn’t go back willingly after helping the others relate the error of their ways, and when he learned of you being the host of the Megamycete, he already foresaw the fight you’d put up (so much like your father, he thought), but he never thought that you’d take it so far as to result in your death; had he known that you’d die he would’ve found another way of making you return to the manor. But now, you’re gone reduced to a pile of dust. He tried to convince Bruce that you should be buried in your hometown next to your mother (he’d want that more than anything, Master Bruce, he pleaded), but you ended up being buried in the place you hated more than anywhere else close to the people you hated more than anyone else; as much as he hated to admit it, he liked that you were buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery since he can visit your grave everyday, keep it clean from leaves, dirt, and dust and beg for your forgiveness for not doing more while you were alive.

[teambyler]

Potential leak that Will recognized Brenner? And casting call for a young Will in *1979*??

The evidence that Will might have latent powers keeps accumulating. I just saw this post, which includes this pic that was apparently grabbed from a script on 8flix for 4x8 ("Papa"). Apparently, Netflix cracked down on it, and it contains a note that Will recognizes Brenner when they find him and El in the desert:

And of course there's the confirmation that they are trying to cast a young Will, Mike, and Jonathan from when Will was eight. Will was born on March 22, 1971. He was eight years old when the sh*t went down at Hawkins Lab in late 1979, when El sent One to the Upside Down.

Is it possible that Will somehow was another kid at the lab at some point?

This is not the first time it's been suggested that Will might have untapped powers. For SOME reason, he was targeted in s1. For SOME reason, he survived. We also know that Vecna has been seeking people with powers to try to claim their powers. We know from Eight that there are other powers besides telekinesis. We know that Will has "true sight" and can sense Vecna.

It was also never explained to us how El recognized Will in s1:

We know that the Upside Down seems "frozen" (or at least has a copy) of the real Hawkins from the night Will disappeared. Why is that?

And it is established in the show that people with powers can have buried traumatic memories. (See El in s4.) So Will might have memories he has blocked as well.

When Will recovered in the hospital in s1, he was strangely serene and asked Jonathan if his hand was okay, suggesting he didn't remember his time in the Upside Down at all. And the s5 preview shows we will see his REPRESSED memories of his time in the Upside Down.

AND the rumored title of episode 4, which it is rumored is the episode featuring a young Will, Mike and Jonathan in 1979, is titled The Sorcerer?

And we've heard from the Duffers that Will's "emotional journey" will be core to s5. This show has established that the development of one's powers comes from an internal process, an emotional place. Eight and One both told El to tap into a memory that makes her angry. But in 4x7, we learn that El remembering LOVE from her mother made her overpower One.

So Will's emotional journey of coming out, where the Duffers described him as being used to being the quiet one who's saved, that he comes into his own, "not just his sexuality" (e.g. his love, perhaps for Mike), but also "becomes a young man," could manifest... supernaturally.

When there's smoke, there's fire.

Will we be talking about Will the Sorcerer?

-teambyler

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 4

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon….

Part 1, Part 2,Part3

==============================

The thing about being new parents is they go into it not thinking how much it'll change their life. as they build a routine around the baby's care that they often forget that they're still people, and need to take of themselves and each other wise over time the stress will start to boil over. And Ken had reached that boiling point as he came home from the game furious cos he got chewed out by the coach and he took his frustrations out on R/n as soon as he walked through the door.

The aftermath of the argument that ensued left Kenji with a sore cheek and even more bruised ego as R/n stormed out of the house in tears her parting words being "You have no right coming at me like, Sato! I'm not who took in giant baby and forced a stranger to uproot her life, because he's too proud admit that he bit off more than he could chew." Kenji made his way downstairs and felt his legs shake as he made his way towards the baby's containment chamber feeling even more frustrated.

He finally breaks down crying grieving over the stress and trials that came with parenting and driving off the only person that had been trying to help him and what was worst...even if he did go after R/n, he wouldn't know where she would go! in the month that they've lived together; never once had they ever sat down and just have a real conversation that didn't involve the baby. That, and he hadn't exactly been the nicest guy since she moved in with him either.

Mina asked if Ken would like to hit some balls as that usually helps him feel better and started up a simulation of the dodger stadium. Unfortunately Ken's frustrations seem to grow as he missed every pitch thrown his way, Baby watched him curiously and started giggling thinking he was being silly; He eventually got sick of everything and retreated to his room.

He kicked the mini fridge in his couch open finding a single can of coconut water. Ken snorted tried to kick the drawer shut but it was being stubborn after the fourth kick it finally locked and Ken buried his head into his hands. Mina approached him concerned, she explained that Kenji was experiencing a breakdown due to stress, no surprises there. She asked if he would like to participate in a counseling session simulation. Ken didn't want that.

"I need to talk to someone, not something...offense Mina."

"Then perhaps you should call someone, a friend? "

"A friend...Well I just chased out the closest person I could call a...."

"Ken?"

Ken had an idea who to call he ended up calling Ami Wakita for help hopefully she can help him sort his head out and maybe help fix things with R/n, but first he had to come off as subtle as possible so the reporter doesn't suspect his current living situation. Ken waited a rings for Ami answer. "Miss Wakita,. It's Ken, Ken Sato, I need to talk to you." Ami panicked a little thinking Ken calling to complain about her most recent article she'd done on him. "Oh, Mr. Sato. If this is about what I wrote, I'm sorry but I solely write based on what I see-" Ken interrupted her assuring that the reason for him calling had nothing to do with her article, he just needed a minute to talk.

Ami cut him a deal; five minutes of talking and he gives her an exclusive interview, Ken reluctantly agreed her her terms and began talking. He wanted to know how she does make it work? How does she juggle her job while also caring for her family at the same time? "I mean, how did you did not lose it on your partner or resist the urge to throw your kid out a window?" There was a slight pause on the other end and Ken was worried he said too much before Ami spoke. "Ken, do you have a secret wife and child? cos that would make one heck of a story.~" Ken felt his cheeks burn as he firmly denied it Ami snickered assuring him that she was joking.

She told him that parenting was difficult even with two people but it's a rewarding journey and though it can seem bleak and stressful at times, but there's always that awe that comes with these little lives are relying on imperfect you to guide them through it all, even teaching you a few things along the way the feeling you get from experiencing it is... "Incredible..." Ken said in awe as he watched the baby trying to copy him from watching some of his old games.

He asked Mina to lower the kaiju's containment field and managed to get a hold of a giant baseball bat he just randomly had lying around and handed it off to the baby. "...And your five minutes are up!" Amy stated Ken hadn't heard her right away as he was trying to Baby how to swing her bat. "Ken, are you still there?" The baseball players eyes widened as remembered her was on call with her. "Oh, yeah. thanks!" Ami said his thanks can be the exclusive interview he promised. "Ah, right. Let's meet tomorrow at Tonkatsu Tonki in Meguro, around 7?" He hung up before Ami agreed and Ken returned to teaching Baby how to play baseball he had Mina bring up a simulation a baseball field from his childhood complete with his mom cheering him on front the stands.

Ken showed the baby how to hold her bat and went to pitchers mound the first try didn't go so well as Ken had accidentally nailed her in the forehead causing baby to started crying; Ken went to calm her down and reassure her. "It's okay, it happens. We'll try again. this time keep your eye on the ball." Ken went to pitch again and this time baby hit a homerun! Ken and Mina cheered and ran up to the kaiju. "C'mon girl, time to run your bases!" the the baby laughed and chirped giddily as she followed her daddy.

Cut to an hour later the baby has fallen asleep though with some difficulty, Ken learned that R/n would sing to the infant kaiju; which was news to him(he was usually K.O.'d or fighting Kaiju while R/n was on duty.) According to Mina R/n has lovely singing voice. Lucky the teddy bear R/n got Baby combined some Music box melodies playing on the speakers was enough to calm the infant dragon down. Now Ken had different matter to attend to: Apologizing to R/n. it's been an hour or so and she still hasn't come back...

He did relax a little knowing they were on an island so she couldn't have gone far, she would've had to borrow one of his cars to leave (There was a Baby incident with R/n's car.)..."Mina did you give R/n a watch?" he asked in an anxious tone Mina confirmed that she had. "Bring her location up." Ken brows furrowed in concern as R/n location showed her off the shore in the ocean. "She probably walked onto a shoal path and got trapped on on a rock something when the tide came in." Mina theorized that didn't calm Ken's nerves as he told Mina to keep an eye on baby while he went to look for R/n he turned into Ultraman left for a swim out the airlock.

Meanwhile

R/n was cold, sore, wet and pissed off and worst off trapped on this rusty-ass buoy that she managed to grabbed onto as the current pulled her away from the shore, R/n scratched her arms and legs up from climbing onto to it as the ocean came more restless with each passing minute, and all she could do was sit there and berate herself. "Because you let it get to you, You let the stress and Ken get to you and that's you how you drowned in the sea...." R/n eyes widened horror as the realization dawns on her "Holy crap, I'm going to drown in the sea" Her complexion turned ashen as she last out a small gasp. "..Just like Meimei's card reading said." R/n said thinking back to her last shift.

*R/n was sitting in the DN6 break room eating lunch while Meimei sat across from her giving her a Tarot card reading with Digimon cards??? R/n looks at cards then at the teen skeptically. "...And how exactly would I drown in tea?" she asked while taking a bite of her sandwich.*

R/n thought it over for moment then shrugged "Eh, close enough..." And this was All be cause she just wanted a few minutes to herself and to be far away from Ken as possible! But being stuck out here made R/n realize she couldn't really blame him for lashing like that. He was stressed out they both were, neither of them haven't had a moment of peace in what seemed like forever! Hell they've barely spoke to each other since R/n moved in...One of them was bound to snap from the pressure eventually!

R/n looked across the pitch dark bay at the distance of the Ultrabase and wondered if she should risk it and try to swim back? The delivery girl looked down at her scrapped hand and legs then snorted. She'd never make it, R/n was by no means a profession swimmer and even if she was there was a risk of riptides; that with all the blood she was leaking she'd be inviting every predator in a near mile to a free dinner! 

While was stressing over her current predicament she failed to noticed the two blue lights under the waters surface searching around until they looked up, they seem brightened up when they noticed her sitting at the water's edge, R/n let out a panicked yelp as tried to hang on to the buoy for dear life as the waves caused by the unknown entity crashed against it threatening to send R/n tumbling out to sea! *Oh, Great...now I'm gonna get eaten by a kaiju!* The delivery girl thought as the unknown creature broke the waters surface but what greeted R/n wasn't some aquatic monster wanting to eat her but instead the towering figure of Ultraman standing over her.

"R/n." He said with a relieved sigh as he leaned down to get better look at her. "Are you okay?" The delivery girl hugged the buoy tight as his movements caused the water to shift around. "I'd be happier if I was on land!" the delivery girl whined as the buoy shifted violently Ken reached out and held the buoy still while he held out his free hand out for R/n to climb on to. The tiny woman reluctantly hopped on and expected Ken to just walk them back to the base but instead he suddenly cupped his other hand over her. "Hey, take a deep breath for me, ok?" R/n looked up confused at what Ken was doing. "Hold my breath? what for-" her voiced echoed of into the distance as Ultraman suddenly flew off into the sky.

R/n felt like her stomach was yanked into her feet as Ultraman flew them somewhere when he finally stopped and set her down R/n needed a minute to get her bearings before looking around her eyes widened in awe as she took in the white sandy beach and untamed jungle in the distance. "Where is this?" she asked looking up at the silver giant who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's just a random island my dad used for training, it's small enough not show up on any maps and completely uninhabited." he explained as the [y/hc] woman looked out into surroundings she could see some parts of the the island were all kinds of torn up and in the pale moonlight she could see areas of the beach were glassed over like it had been hit by a lighting strike or say an alien energy beam...

"Why did you bring me here-....Are you going kill me?!" Ultraman looked at her startled "What the hell makes you think that?!" R/n goes on a rant on how she knows and seen too much, she could go to the press! Which she wouldn't actually... but still she's a liability to his life! "Would you calm down? I'm not gonna kill you...I brought you here to talk." Ken reassured as he sat down, it was kinda funny seeing Ultraman sitting so casually in that sand as R/n reluctantly joined him...

the two of them relaxed to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and crickets chirping in distant the jungle as Ken finally spoke up. "I'm sorry freaked out at you like that, It's just this whole thing with the baby and my jobs-" His timer started blinking R/n put her hand on his thigh. "Hey, It's okay. I get it..." Ken didn't seemed too convinced.

"No, what you said earlier; about uprooting your life... I never thanked you once for that did I?" The giant asked looking down the human his eyes dimmed somberly as R/n removed her hand from his thigh and looked down at her lap. "It wouldn't hurt to hear it every now and then...." The giant moved his hand so it was rested behind R/n who leaned back against it. "Well thanks, for everything." he said as the two sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the silence before R/n spoke up.

"I'm curious why haven't you switched back to human, don't you have 3 minutes or something?" Ultraman looked down at her oddly. "Uh...What? I don't have time limit, why would you think that?" he asked with sight laugh R/n's mouth opened but closed again when she couldn't come up with an answer. "I'm not sure...maybe I read it somewhere?" Ken was curious now and went to press where she had read that from? but was interrupted by Mina calling informing that the baby was waking up soon and she won't be happy seeing both her parents gone.

 "Welp, looks like break time over, let's go home" He held his hand out for R/n to hop onto this time delivery girl was ready for take off as Ultraman jumped up into the sky, when they got back to base Mina chewed Ken out for not bringing straight home to have her scrapes treated before the deciding to run away for an hour.

========================

{Ultraman didn't turn back into Ken cos he knew they weren't going to be staying on the island long.]

{Also: Did you catch the Archer reference?}

=========================

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva, @mashiromochi,

@boogiemansbitch, @ok-boke

@dap11

[watchingsunrises]

Ziam is real, climb on board

For the first time, we’re experiencing a genuine influx of people looking into Ziam, the real relationship between Zayn and Liam. And honestly it’s about time. It’s always been so beautiful and devoted and consistent and visible to those willing to invest and find out for themselves. It’s also been so unseen and dismissed and a bit buried by Larry too. I’m a Larry too, but right now I’m all about Ziam. I’m really happy Ziam is getting there deserved time seeing some light.

I’m not here to convince anyone. Ziam isn’t new, it has been around and discussed and real since 2012 when we believe their relationship started extending beyond friendship. There is an existing treasure trove that can be sought out by people willing to open their mind and examine it, especially from Zayn and Liam themselves. Right from the start and up until present day. 

The truth is we are experiencing a moment we weren’t expecting. First with Liam’s death. Now with Zayn touring for the first time ever as a solo artist. 

People are interested in Liam and that is a normal reaction. People are noticing a lot of things that don’t make sense and are curious and questioning that. People can’t make sense about his relationship with his “girlfriend”, the public PR performance at his funeral of a select group of celebrities (all aligned with Modest, Simon Jones PR or existing narratives regarding the boys) and of course the narrative around his “son” Bear.

Usually when things don’t make sense, there is a good reason, we know this with Larry too, and so in the same way people should look and critically engage. Gaps can’t always be filled when we are dealing with public media narratives that then clearly don’t align with who a person really is consistently as a human. It's pretty hard work for all involved to contain a decades plus closet, in times like this. That is a big part of what people are noticing with Liam. They should question public narratives and media. Liam wanted to be seen and heard for who he really was, and celebrating and talking about Ziam right now is one of the biggest parts of seeing and knowing Liam. Its not disrespectful if you've done the work to see and know, just like with Larry.

Now we also finally have Zayn touring for the first time ever as a solo artist. Seeing him on stage after a 10 year wait is kind of exhilarating and like any of the boys you get a reminder on stage of who the person really is, really leaning in and hearing the lyrics live and seeing his being. Zayn is very definitely coding to us in a way that he hasn’t been able to do so before. He knew we would be looking and he wants to be seen. He is literally telling us that he is honest and truthful in his music. Zayn’s public narrative has never made sense either, it's all the same closeting stuff. Copy of a copy of a copy.

The narrative set up for Room Under the Stairs was actually quite strange, and in reality it translates very poorly to the lyrics and the emotions. So many gaps and things that don't make sense. In the future I will share some analysis on RUTS. I’ve been immersed in the album non-stop since May. The album to me is mostly about his closet - the pain it has caused him, the effect it has had on his relationship, the pain and effect it has had on his long term partner, the ways in which he has had to reframe his mindset to live within the reality of his closet, the ways he has changed his lifestyle to focus on the simple things in life to help his mental health impacted by his closet (and other things). Yet throughout all that heartbreaking pain, he still talks about his person, his lover, he refers to 'they' in many key lyrics, he brings his partner into the lyrics clearly, lyrics that clearly refer back to past and present times. Its the same person, it always has been in Zayn's lyrics. He tells them and us that he wouldn’t change anything despite all that pain, that their love has been worth it, that he is devoted, that their love was like stardust from the start until forever. The most specific songs relating to his person haven't been included on the tour setlist - How it Feels, The Time, False Starts, Grateful, Something in the Water and of course Stardust. They are the strongest songs on the album, the ones that have made me cry non-stop for the last 6 months. I suspect he rearranged the setlist, they would have been too hard to sing live. Instead we see a few B sides we wouldn't have expected on tour. I hope more people will listen to RUTS, it's absolutely devastating, empowering and life affirming and you can really see and feel who Zayn is.

Enjoy your Ziam journey if you decide to take it.

[beloved-of-john]

it is absolutely not necessary to believe in a literal body resurrection to be Christian. this literalization of important stories does not make things more real.

for many people a literal body resurrection and a literal general resurrection of the dead are very definitely non sensical.

we are not bound to the 4th century worldview. the way Christians have understood Christianity has always been subject to evolution. the creation of the literal bodily resurrection you can see evolve in the new testament

Paul and Mark have no bodily resurrection. Matthew has visitations but in a way similar to the theophany @ sinai, a coming down from heaven.

John and Luke as the latest gospels have mixed aspects of their experience. experience that indicate a bodily resurrection tradition was. beginning by then.

I have to respectfully disagree. If you don't believe Jesus was physically raised from the dead then you are not believing the gospel. If a literal bodily resurrection is non-sensical, how do you deal with the raising of Lazarus? Do you pick and choose which of Jesus' miracles to believe in? Biblical literalism is not necessary in all cases, many parts of the Bible are written like poetry or literature to give us a better understanding of God, like the creation stories in Genesis, but this is not the case with accounts of Jesus' life. The gospels repeatedly ask you to believe the seemingly unbelievable. I'm not going to quote a load of scripture at you, but the New Testament does not support your view on this.

It is necessary to believe in the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ as a Christian because God conquering human death is the foundation of our faith. Otherwise, what makes Jesus different to Elijah, who was taken up to God? The physical resurrection cannot be extracted from the belief of Jesus as our saviour. Plus, the Bible explicitly shows us that Jesus' physical body is resurrected, with Thomas touching Jesus's wounds still present on his body from the crucifixion.

Also, you imply that you believe Matthew and Mark to be true over Luke and John, because they came later and due to reasons of plausibility? Do you believe the gospels are divinely inspired or not? Don't get me wrong, you can be both a religious scholar and a Christian, but to be one doesn't make you the other. Being a Christian requires belief.

Also *out of breath* the Nicene Creed. God give me strength why does everyone think they just know better. It contains everything mandatory to believe to be a Christian.

"For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, he suffered death and was buried, and rose again on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father."

Died -> buried -> rose -> ascended, not died -> buried -> ascended. There is no ascension without resurrection. The literal belief in THE key foundational concept of Christianity does in fact make things more real. Otherwise what is your faith based on?

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant"

-----------------------

flings my creation into the unknown

the brain worms have gotten too powerful and I’m simultaneously dying of skystar disease of so have this 1400-ish-word Fucking Thing™ based on @keferon's mecha AU featuring human!starscream as the the little bastard you can't live with but also can't live without, and skyfire/jetfire as the unfortunate victim of Fate Being a Real Bitch Sometimes and accidentally deciding the outcome of the Space Race

"ulchtar" as a name for human!Starscream was borrowed from starscream's early name (and also Skybound)

also i don’t remember if the corporation that produces mechs in this au was ever properly given a name so i just kinda. gave them a generic one lol

-----------------------

Ulchtar is a mechanical engineer working on developing spacefaring mecha. He’s climbed through the ranks based on his expertise (and, occasionally by sabotaging other peoples’ work). Nobody really likes working with him; he’s kind of an ass at the best of times. But his experience with these systems makes him a danger if the company ever lets him go. He could sell his knowledge to anyone else in the world, creating new competition in a sector they’ve more-or-less monopolized. This keeps him from being kicked out…up until Mecha-Corp’s first voyage into the stars goes horribly wrong. After the disappearance of Jazz, the fingers are pointed at him, even though—for once in his life—he’s actually not to blame. It’s decided that he’s no longer useful, and he needs to be disposed of.

Ulchtar doesn’t know this, of course. Not until—after being called into a meeting in one of the downstairs labs—the door to go back upstairs locks itself, and he hears the telltale, unholy screeches of alien beasts around him. The beasts he has helped contain for years.

“…shit. Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit—”

He starts running. Not upstairs, that’s not an option, but maybe there’s another way out of here. He finds that the door upstairs is locked, but not the way down, and that means there’s still a chance, because if there’s anything the higher-ups here right about, it was the fact that Ulchtar knows way too much.

In a last, desperate attempt to survive (or at least go down swinging) Ulchtar decides to unleash his final gambit. He runs down long-forgotten halls, hurls himself downstairs until he reaches the lowest floor of the facility—a floor where nobody goes. It’s down here that he’ll make his stand and wake up an old “friend.”

The few who know it exists call it the “Sleeping Giant.” Corny name, but it made sense, given it's…well, fucking gigantic, maybe even bigger than Vortex. It was found buried in the Arctic in the mid-1950’s—what looked to be an ancient, alien shuttle, lost under the ice for perhaps millions of years. It was all kept hush-hush, but in secret, its discovery had turned the tides of the Space Race…and when it fell into the hands of what would soon become Mecha-Corp, they quickly learned it was much more than a vessel. It was alive.

Some of the earliest mechs? The huge, bulky ones that never ended up getting mass-produced because it wasn’t economical enough? They owed their design to the Giant. They owed their existence to the many times it had been torn apart and put back together to see how it worked, to the many years it had laid on a table inert, unaware of what humanity had done to it. It was their greatest trade secret.

And the Giant owes its currently-intact state to Ulchtar, who’d thought studying it as a whole was more useful than research on individual parts. Which is the only reason he knows, at least in theory, how to power it on. Hell, he’d even done some refurbishments when nobody was looking. He runs across a table far too big for him, pulling out cables and unlocking restraints. He doesn’t have time for final checks, not with a horde of kaiju bearing down on him. He just has to hope, to scream until he makes the stars hear his name—or he dies trying.

"COME ON!" He shouts. "WAKE UP, YOU OVERSIZED SUNOVA--"

At that moment, the stars respond.

-----------------------

He can’t move.

He’s freezing cold.

Is he dead?

How did he get here?

He’s…he was…looking for something, he’s pretty sure. Something very important.

Something so important he’d risk getting trapped under an ice sheet over it.

Who is he? He's not sure.

He wants to go home, but he can’t remember where that’s supposed to be.

Trying to remember hurts too much.

It’s hard to think like this, when he’s so cold and everything hurts and he’s so tired.

He lets himself drift, fluttering in and out of death-dreams that he can barely recall.

Eventually, after he’s lost count of the cycles, something happens. The dim light filtering through the ice gets brighter. Small creatures—the lifeforms of this planet, he thinks—peer down at him, pointing, shouting, but he is too weak to respond.

He has hope, for a brief moment, when he sees the sun again, but those hopes are quickly dashed—once more he’s trapped in walls and ceilings of white and gray. This time, the prison is own body. He’s escaped the glacier, only to find himself paralyzed and comatose. Occasionally he laspses into consciousness just long enough to steal a few kliks of awareness before he falls back into darkness.

At some point, he feels himself revert to ‘bot mode, which is something he'd forgotten he even had until then. He’s vaguely aware that he is being picked apart and put back together by the scavengers, again and again and again. The dull ache of not being whole is the only reason he knows he’s still alive, if this can still be called living.

And then…something changes. Everything goes dark for a very long time. The next time he’s aware of anything, his first realization is that he doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel broken. His arms respond when he tries to move.

What?

He sits up, still in something of a daze, taking in the surroundings. It’s a room seemingly sized for mechs, and yet the furniture strewn about is far too small—maybe meant for the scavengers? He has little time to wonder about the whole situation, because he soon hears them—the distant, telltale sounds of Quintessons approaching. He remembers what those are, in a way that’s almost instinctive.

To his right, though, he hears a small screaming noise. A lone organic is shouting something at him almost hysterically, pointing at the entrance before gesturing wildly, and then pointing up at the ceiling. It runs over to a set of controls, pushing at buttons furiously until the ceiling begins to open up. Once again, he sees the sky and feels something like hope.

Then tentacles lash out from behind the entrance, and he remembers this is no time for sentiment. He picks the organic up, deciding to just plop the creature inside his cockpit where’s it’s relatively safe and jump for it. He doesn’t trust the creature, not for a second, but he needs someone to explain what’s going on. Engines flare to life for the first time in millions of years, and he hears horrific screeches as Quintesson flesh is cooked under the heat from his thrusters.

They sail up and up and up until there’s no walls anymore and that feeling of suffocating is gone and it’s warmer than anything he’s felt in millions of cycles and he’s alive.

He lets himself spin a few times in the air. He’s above the clouds and the sun feels like fire on his still-frigid wings but somehow that’s good, it feels right. He wants to just hover here and bask in it forever.

He realizes why the creature is kicking him when gunfire whizzes past his face, followed by a pair of aircraft piloted by the scavengers.

Are the scavengers after him? Or the one he’s holding onto? He’s not really sure, but he also really doesn’t want to find out.

He transforms, looking for any way to shake them off. It becomes a mad, spiraling dance as he tries to avoid getting shot, to mixed results.

He considers the enemy’s design—these aircraft don’t look like they’re meant for spaceflight. Knowing that, he climbs higher and higher, looking to get above these things’ maximum operating altitude. He flinches as a few bullets scratch and tear at him, but doesn’t stop. This eventually pays off, as he sees his pursuers begin to stall out, dropping away behind him.

He hopes his scavenger didn’t get too sick in the cockpit. That’d be a mess to clean up…

…Primus, why am I worrying about that at a time like this? He laughs to himself, though this high up, the air is so thin that it’s barely audible.

He looked down at the planet below—dusk was soon to fall on this side of the world, and he needed to find somewhere to hide.

“…where do I even go from here?”

A knock from the organic, who held up what looked like a tiny datapad with a nervous grin.

Maybe they had an idea?

-----------------------

part 2

[whencyclopedia]

Celtic Coinage

The coinage of the ancient Celts, minted from the early 3rd century BCE to the 1st century CE, at first imitated Greek and then Roman coins. Celtic engravers then soon developed their own unique style, creating distinctive coins with depictions of stylised horses, abstract shapes, and the portraits of Celtic chiefs. Not being part of a wider political and economic entity like the Roman Empire, gold, silver, and bronze Celtic coins were rarely used for interregional trade but were, rather, used to buy and exchange goods locally and to spread imagery of rulers, tribes, and the ancient Celtic religion. Finally, coins were frequently buried in large hoards as part of votive rituals.

The Function of Celtic Coinage

An enormous number of Celtic coins have been found in burials and as part of ritual treasure hoards across Europe. Some hoards contained as many as 10,000 coins. Celtic coins were used for a variety of reasons. They were, as one would expect, used as a currency to acquire goods locally but coins were primarily used as a more convenient replacement for other high-value goods which had previously been used in a barter system. Coins were also offered as diplomatic gifts and perhaps given as tribute to more powerful neighbouring rulers.

Coins were also minted for prestige reasons: to demonstrate the wealth and sophistication of a particular chief and to spread their likeness amongst the people they ruled. Coins were sometimes dispensed by chiefs to their people on special occasions as a demonstration of their success and generosity. It is for this reason, perhaps, that the minting of Celtic coins was so sporadic: only when a ruler needed extra legitimacy for their rule were new coins minted.

Although coins provided artists with a new medium to show off their skills, an unexpected consequence of their introduction on wider ancient Celtic art is here summarised by the historians J. Farley and F. Hunter:

The spread of coinage coincided with a rapid decline in the production of unique and ornately decorated objects: the shields, weapons and torcs that were both symbols of status and power, and the canvases for earlier Celtic art. As small, mass produced objects, coins are undoubtedly less impressive than the imposing metalwork that had gone before but they offered a new kind of impact. Rapid manufacture and portability allowed powerful images, political messages, and a newly transformed stock of Celtic art to be transmitted to a wider audience than ever before.

(110)

Celtic coins were rarely used in interregional trade since, unlike say in the Roman Empire, Celtic Europe was made up of many different tribal groups and the coinage of one had no value in another except for the weight of precious metal. It is for this reason that small scales have turned up everywhere in the archaeological record, needed to assess the real value of coins which were used in trade. A consequence of the necessity for a coin to have a real value as opposed to a face value was that should any chief be tempted to debase the metal in their coinage (and some did), they would find it of little use outside their own territory.

Finally, coins were frequently buried in hoards. However, this was not always a mere ‘bank in the ground’ strategy but likely involved some sort of specific ritual and was done as a votive offering to Celtic deities. Such deposits were added to over a period of many years, sometimes several decades, and were often divided into multiple hoards in the same vicinity. The site of Hallaton in England, for example, has been excavated by archaeologists, and they discovered over 5,000 coins buried in 16 different places. Nearby were remains of ritual animal sacrifices, further pointing to a religious significance to the burial of these coins.

Continue reading...

[luvxxriki]

BACK HUGS . Enhypen

pairing - ot7 x fem!reader (different scenarios)

genre - fluff, established relationship(s)

warnings (but not really) - pet names (for the reader and the members), i used js and bc instead of just and because (i didnt think i'd be posting this) sugar daddy jay but in a joking way

wc - 1.3k

notes - i didnt have anything to post today so heres a little scenario thing i wrote a few months ago🫶

Lee Heeseung

Okok so I think he would prefer front hugs

He would just love having the front of your body pressed against his for whatever reason…

But when he does go for back hugs, it would probably be js 1 arm 

He would kinda pull you closer to himself and he would tilt his head so he could see your face

Or he would make you tilt your head to look at him

That devious lil smile ofc

But when YOU back hug HIM?

He's a giggly mess

He would try to play it off and act cool

But you can literally FEEL his smile☠️

"Whatcha doin?" 

"Nothin" 

He would finish doing whatever he's doing as fast as he can so he can turn around and give you a real hug

Jay Park 

He makes me giggle omg

Anyways (I have bias problems)

He would be so romantic abt it like nose buried in your neck js so he can smell you

He would definitely have his hands on your hips I js know it

Like holding your hips tightly but not too tight

Pulling you against his chest oml

He would do it when you're in front of the mirror so you guys can see yourselves omg

YOUR WAIST IS HIS

anyways (not this again)

You would go up behind him while he's cooking or something

Like you're js bored while he's busy and you feel a bit devious sooo

He would let out a lil chuckle and js let you hug him for however long

He would turn around ready with a bite of wtv he's cooking js so you can try it

Then if you did it while he's washing dishes he would offer for you to help😍🙏🔥 (he's so generous right?!)

But he would obvi still do most of it

His princess shouldn't have to lift a finger (SUGAR DADDY JAY???🛐🙏)

Jake Sim

He would love back hugs idk

His arms would be wrapped all the way around your waist and his head would be on your shoulder

He would hold you as tight as possible

He would kiss your neck once or twice (or a bunch, depending on his mood)

He would probably do it while your doing your make up idk why tho

And when you guys are in public his arm would NEVER leave your waist

He would also do it when he's bored or tired or wants attention 

Even when you guys are laying down if your back is facing him he would obvi hold your waist from the back (ik thats just him being a big spoon but wtv)

Did I mention his hands are ALWAYS around your waist?!

And when it's the other way around?! Bros so in love

I feel like it wouldn't happen often but when it does omg

You would probs do it when you're bored or want attention and he would think it's js so cute

If he's busy he would stop whatever he's doing just to give you a hug and pull you to his side just so he can have at least one arm around your waist 

Park Sunghoon 

He would start off chill abt it

Maybe js come up behind you and rest his hands on your waist

But when he gets more comfortable I can see him being a bit more clingy with it

He would nuzzle his face into your neck and probably smile abt it quietly

He'd kiss your cheek or neck and js hold onto you

If you guys are in public the most he usually does is hold your hand, but if you guys are somewhere and get separated he'll sneak up behind you and hold your waist

That was kinda specific but wtv (if I have to type the word waist 1 more time istg)

I feel like he would be a bit like Heeseung tho and prefer front hugs

If you back hug him..? 

YOU CAN FEEL HOW HOT HIS FACE GETS WITHOUT EVEN SEEING HIM OMG (shy hoonie😖🙏)

He'd be caught off guard but he'd also LOVE IT

Probably say something like "angel..?" Js bc he doesn't actually believe it

But he'd feel your little giggle and not be able to contain his cute ass smile

Fangs and all🤞❤️

He would turn around and kiss the top of your head and pat your lower back

Kim Sunoo

I feel like he wouldn't do it often just because it's not his thing

But he would def do it when he's feeling a lil extra clingy

He would come up behind you with the biggest smile on his face and give you the comfiest back hug ever

You guys would both be giggling I feel

He would do it quickly then come in front of you and give you a quick peck

He would LOVE if you back hugged him tho

He would start giggling (I need to stop)

He would probably mess with you a bit and stick his booty out

But as soon as you let go he'd stop you

He'd grab your wrist and pull you back into his back (help?) 

"Nooo I like it"

You would start blushing but would js stay there while he does wtv

You would start doing it when you're bored or want attention oml

Or if you guys are somewhere and his extroverted ass won't shut up but you wanna leave

"Sunie, come on"

 Would automatically get his attention and not even 5 minutes later you guys are GONE🥰

Yang Jungwon 

Idk I feel like he would be a sucker for back hugs 

Giving and receiving🤭🤞

He's stressed? He doesn't care what you're doing, back hug.

You're bored? He doesn't care what he's doing, back hug him.

Moral of the story : Yang jungwon is a back hug FIEND 

If he sees you just standing there he will NOT hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist from the back

You've gotten so used to it by now that you hate when he's not back hugging you

If you're washing dishes or something (idk) he'll come up behind you and back hug you

He wouldn't say anything but he would js stand there hugging you

"Hi wonie"

He would smile and kiss your neck or cheek and js hum as a response 

And it's obvi normal for you to do the same

Like if you back hug him while he's doing the dishes he would have the same exact reaction

"Hi baby"

And you would just hum and kiss his neck or shoulder or cheek (ig it kinda depends on your height…)

Nishimura Riki 

Idk bc bros kinda tall sooo…

He would probably be kinda like sunghoon but not as shy

Like one day he would do it js to see your reaction and when he realized you like it

He does it whenever he can

Let's say your in front of the mirror and he comes up behind you and hugs you

He would smile for a second then say some stupid shit like

"Look how tiny you look right now"

You would obvi turn around and hit him (softly ofc, we don't inflict damage on hot ppl)

And as soon as you go back to look at the mirror he would be behind you again

But this time he learned to keep his mouth shut🥰😘

He doesn't do it too often, but sometimes he just really likes it for wtv reason

Like anytime you're in front of a mirror (bc he gets to see his hot self and his pretty ass gf WHILE they're hugging? Hell yea)

I feel like he would be surprised if you do it to him tho 

Like as soon as he feels your arms he would flinch a little and turn around js to see you all surprised at his reaction

"Sorry, I just wanted a hug"

He would feel so bad and give you a hugeee hug to make up for it

So after that you only do it when you're bored and wanna tease him🤠❤️

[7waystreet]

dirty confessions | kim taehyung

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 6 — taehyung

Hi diary,

I have a confession to make. Not only did I indulge in that mind blowing threesome with Jimin and his chick, but I also secretly fucked Jungkook's gf (y/n) in the butt.

It's not just lust when it comes to (y/n)... she's been my best friend for years and I've been in love with her for as long as I can remember, much before the time she began dating Jungkook. I'd never confessed my feelings to her out of the fear of losing her, and looking back, I'm thankful I never did bcuz she ended up falling for Jungkookie anyways. It took me months to finally accept I'd never have her, my heart breaking every single time I saw them together happily in love, until I forced myself to get over it.

Her happiness means the world to me.

But everything changed when (y/n) approached me with a dark cloud looming above her head during our group roller skating meetup last weekend, appearing very much unlike her usual fun self... everything changed forever.

Hobi hyung and I struggle the most while roller skating, the fear of death flashing right before my eyes when I tumbled and got ready to fall smack onto the floor. But I suddenly felt two soft arms curl around my waist and hold me up straight from slipping, her fresh sweet scent seeping into my senses confirming my best friend (y/n) had indeed saved my ass. A heat flared through my chest knowing she was so close to me and enveloping my back in her warmth, my broken heart desperately pleading she'd never let go... but just like that, she inched out of the embrace and helped turn me around, a smile perking up my lips when my eyes met her beautiful ones.

But that happiness quickly faded away after I noticed the somber look on her dulled out face.

"What's wrong?" I asked her with a deepening concern, my fear of being on skates instantly disappearing as all of my attention went straight to her, trying to understand the reason behind her sadness.

"It's Kook."

My heart dropped hearing the depressing tone in her voice bcuz I knew how much he meant to her, her joyless demeanor indicating something was seriously wrong. I asked her what'd happened but it made me feel guilty as her eyes started to flood with tears. So I suggested if she just wanted to hangout after roller skating and talk about it, to which she agreed with a nod, then slowly drifting away towards Jungkookie while he was too busy playing with others.

"I think Kook's cheating on me. He just seems so distracted lately and he barely wants to have sex... I can't help but think he's with someone else. Sorry Tae. I know this is all TMI, but I couldn't share this stuff with anyone else but you."

As much as my sore heart wanted her to shut the fuck up about her sex life with Jeon Jungkook, I knew I had to put aside my hurt feelings and be there for my best friend. I assured her the young one was probably just stressed out bcuz of the upcoming concert prep as he always wants to give his 110% for ARMY, and that's probably why he seemed distant. There was no real proof that could confirm he was cheating on her, and I didn't want to feed her anxiety any more than what the poor girl was already experiencing. I wanted her to feel better.

My tummy madly flipped around when she suddenly flung her body onto mine, making me sink back into the couch's cushion with her weight on top of me, her small face buried in my chest while I could hear her silent sobs and shudders of worry. Nothing else mattered in that moment, my arms engulfing her in a big bear hug at once and holding her tight, her makeup staining my hoodie in the prettiest way possible.

I assured (y/n) that nobody could hurt her as long as I was standing by her side, which would be for the rest of our lives. My gut wrenched when she pulled away and looked up at me with glistening eyes, sniffling her snot heavy before a smile cracked through her gorgeous lips, my own mouth reflecting a grin when she sighed out in ease after a long time of crying.

"Why do you even put up with all my bullshit?" she awkwardly chuckled, cutely wiping her tears away with the back of her palm, but she froze in place when I blurted out "That's what you do for the girl you love."

The next couple of mins are burned into my memory forever for the way they made me feel a roller coaster of emotions... mostly an overwhelming amount of regret though. (y/n) gazed into my eyes while both her hands were still on my chest, her swollen face then leaning up to mine and pressing our lips together in a soft, sizzling kiss. The way our breaths naturally synced and fastened up made us both pause with our eyes closed shut to comprehend what'd just happened, our noses slightly touching as we remained inches away from each others faces. We'd just willingly shared our first kiss together.

I wasn't sure how we'd ended up doing this now after years of being the closest of friends... everything almost feeling like a dream, but to my pleasure it wasn't. (y/n) was mine in that moment, and I was willing to do anything to make her feel happy. I did respectfully ask to check if this is really what she wanted and she confirmed she did... if (y/n) felt peace in my arms, then I was gonna give her just that.

The best part was none of this shit felt weird, not even when we'd both made our way into the safety of my bedroom, probably bcuz (y/n) and I've slept in the same bed plenty of times before, just never in a sexual way like tonight. We'd already gotten into a hot makeout within seconds, our lips struggling to stay detached while I lightly sucked on her tongue, our hands slowly exploring one another's bodies to get used to touching each other in this unashamed way. It's crazy how many emotions I'd repressed all these years, passionate emotions I felt for her that were bursting out of me when my body got on top of hers and saw her crumble underneath my touch.

Her lips quivered when my palm wrapped around her neck and added a slight pressure, her face lighting up with excitement by seeing this hidden dominant side of me in such a way, my lips grazing her shivering ones as I leaned down and asked her "Is there something you wanted to try in bed... something he didn't do that I could help you with?"

My blood set on fire when she choked out "Anal" the more I added pressure on her throat with my palm, my lips immediately crashing into hers after hearing that word, my whole being now kissing her with a raging thrill, her moans mingling with mine while we began to really get into the mood.

The key to making any girl comfortable for anal is foreplay, and although (y/n) suggested drinking alcohol to loosen ourselves up, I refused the offer as I wanted to be in my senses and live in the present without being under any kind of influence. We naturally eased into a rhythm in no time though, our bodies wildly grinding against one another to up our desires even more, my throbbing cock rubbing onto her clit through our clothes enough to make her want to tear my clothes off right then and there.

I'll never forget the shocked looked on (y/n)'s face when she looked down at my big boner pop out after she'd pulled off my sweatpants, her throat visibly taking in a big gulp at the thought of my dick entering her tight lil ass. But the worry on her face faded away the second my mouth touched her clit, the way I was going down on her melting her into sweet pudding, although her pussy tasted way better than that. (y/n)'s moans and yelps were getting me off, my eyes focused up on her face while my tongue circled her clit and sucked on it with the perfect titillating pressure, my mouth then teasing her folds and slurping up her juices already flooding out while I rubbed her clit with my thumb to keep arousing her and loosening her muscles.

It was the most intimate night of my life, the trust we both feel in each other as best friends allowing us to let go and perform such a sensitive act without worry. Just seeing her arch her back and get on all fours for me made me harden up even more, the sexy view of her fine ass right in front of me making my stomach drop while I poured a ton of lube on my cock and rubbed a little on her hole, her knees instantly shuddering at my touch. Leaning down towards her face, I kissed (y/n) and told her to communicate with me if anything hurt or felt uncomfortable and she eagerly kissed me back and smiled to finally give me the go.

Holy shit was it magical... the level of tightness in her ass something I'd never experienced before, the tip of my cock gradually inching in while I observed her moves, (y/n) whimpering and clutching the sheets in fists to get through the initial pain. I wanted to do everything possible to ease her into it so I guided my girl through the entirety of the sex, encouraging her to simultaneously touch herself the way she liked it while I stretched her butt out. My dick was fully nestled inside her hole by now, (y/n)'s fingers rubbing her clit in circles to the dirty talk I was now feeding her, praising her for how hot she was making me feel, how she was going to make me cum so hard, and how I wanted to keep fucking her all night long until she couldn't stand up or walk.

All of my fantasies were playing out one by one as I talked nasty to her and told (y/n) just how bad I wanted to ruin her, her chest shuddering while she kept touching herself and I picked up the pace of fucking her anally, my cock on cloud 9 feeling the friction of her ass against my bare skin, the need to cum approaching soon while (y/n)'s screams indicated she was nearing her end too.

My huge load of cum dripped right out of her asshole like a cream donut after I came straight into her with a breathless sigh, (y/n)'s legs clenching and her chest collapsing after she'd cum herself from the heightened combination of things. The sight was too beautiful to take in. Her legs gave out and she fell flat on the bed, her face in the mattress and body shaking as she tried to gain her severed breath, my body laying down next to her and rubbing her back to soothe her as I tried to calm down from my high myself.

(y/n) finally turned around and smiled at me, the both of us acknowledging the fact that nothing would change between us despite sharing this unforgettable experience together. Everything felt perfect.

a/n ♡

i imagined a "friends to lovers" plot for tae as it'd suit him the best over the others, knowing he's a social butterfly with many friends irl. altho this storyline has similarities to hoseok's, the motive behind the sex in both plots is diff; tae's not wishing revenge or lust like hobi. tae simply loves (y/n) but it blinds his judgement of betraying jungkook. tae is known to acting on whim irl and just doing what his heart freely desires, so the unplanned act with (y/n) doesn't come as a shocker.

— social butterfly: tae's able to establish a rapport with jimin's gf just like he is with jungkook's gf without having his own gf. he naturally possesses the quality to bond with various people, which is shown by the way he's able to hookup with both girls without any awkwardness

— eccentric persona: anal isn't the most common sexual act but it doesn't scare him when (y/n) suggests it. he's accepting of trying new things especially with his best friend, a reflection of tae's "free spirit" personality and lifestyle irl

— care giver: instead of drinking alcohol as a short cut to loosening up, he makes (y/n) feel comfortable by going down on her, easing her into things bcuz acts of service is a big part of his love language irl

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Four

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: Refusing to believe that the kids are dead, Joyce tries to connect with her son and Steph. The boys give Eleven a makeover in order to connect with their loved ones. Hopper turns up his detective game. Steve has a slight breakdown, while Nancy and Jonathan form an unlikely alliance.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 13,951

🎲Date: 7/4/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Heavy Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; One Comment About Being A Pedo; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Jessica & Charles Harrington's A+ Parenting; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Happy 4th, everyone! What a better way to celebrate then with an angsty fic? Heads up, this does contain less of us being in the Upside Down, and there's a reference to Hopper's childhood with Joyce and Claudia. There's also a bit of a mystery surrounding Steph and Dustin's father, so keep that part buried in your mind for future chapters. Also... there's a bit of a cameo in here I think everyone will enjoy :)

Nancy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The view of the quarry on the TV made her feel sick. She wants to change the station but she can’t – none of her family can’t because the news is so shocking. It wasn’t until her little brother came home, tears streaming down his face and running into their mother’s arms for comfort, that she realized it was all real. 

After a few minutes of gathering her strength, she manages to slip into the kitchen to grab the phone, dialing a number close to heart. She wipes the corner of her eyes, trying to put up a good front before the call. She has to be the strong one here, especially since–

Then the other lined beeps followed by a voice that says, 

[ ‘Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later, or leave a message after the tone, and hang up when you’re finished.’ ]

“Shit.” She whispers, and waits for the beep again. “Steve, it’s Nancy, it’s…” She sighs. “Listen, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Just give me a call back, please.”

She hangs up, taking a moment to think. Whether he admits or not, she knows he still cares in some way for Stephanie. And he’s not going to be in the best state if he’s seen the news.

Not even thinking twice about this sudden thought, Nancy grabs her car keys out of the bowl, ignoring when her parents asked her a question and leaves out the front door. 

She just has to know if he’s okay.

That’s it.

That’s all she needs to know and do.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will was… mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. Heavy on the latter. They thought they were finally doing well, they thought they were finally going to get an answer –a way to get back– but every time they tried, they get back to square one. 

The beast that had no face, its growls could send shivers down their spines and curse their souls, kept finding them. But how? It had no eyes, no nose, no ears, just a mouth hidden its folds; How could such a thing keep finding them? And that voice…

The voice was new. And for some reason it scared him more than the beast.

.

// I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. //

.

I know what you’re doing. 

What does that mean? Could the monster actually speak? Was someone else in this place with them? Did someone or something not want to escape? What is it? What is the answer? What can they do?

He doesn’t know who slowed down first, but they eventually stopped somewhere in the trees. Will was taking in the cold, dirty air, a tickle was blooming in his throat while doing so. He felt like he was on the verge of getting sick, probably the temperatures doing, but didn’t want to express his concerns. They had other problems to worry about.

“What are we going to do?” He asked, unaware of the older girl’s swaying moments and gaze going distant. “Do we go back? Do we try another place? But that’ll probably be a waste right? But can really go back with that–”

“I’m s-sorry…” She whispers that it turned into a small pant. It was enough for him to turn around and question:

“Why?” He manages to spill out before her body drops like a stack of dominos. “Stephanie!!” He lunged forward, his tiny body was only good enough to cradle her head. “No… No…” 

He starts ripping everything on her away, the shotgun, her backpack, and holding her sleeping head in her lap. He knew this would have happened sometime soon, especially when she admitted earlier that she hasn’t slept since getting stuck here, too worried about his safety rather than her own, and now look where that’s gotten her. 

“Steph… come on. W-Wake up. Pl-Please…” Will pleads, lightly tapping her cheek. “Come on. You can’t do this to me now… w-why is this happening n-now?!”

Stranded in the woods, a monster lurking somewhere in the dark. 

What was a twelve year old boy going to be able to do? It’s not like he can carry her and all their belongings somewhere, right?

He couldn’t help but start crying, like a child scared of the creature under his bed, and started holding the teenager close like she was his lifeline.

“♪ C-Come o-on and l-let me know ♪”  He whispers, face pressed against hers. “♪ Sh-Should I-I stay or should I g-go? Should I-I stay or should I go now? If I g-go th-there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double– ♪” 

He sobs, shaking. “St-Stephanie…”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Telling a family about their loved one was never easy, especially since the deceased were from families he knew personally growing up. He still spoke carefully though after him and his men looked around the house just in case they missed something. He spoke softly, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she probably is.

“A trooper found something in the, uh… water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie… crashed her car, and they... made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” Hopper explains, but he can tell she’s not listening (at least not fully). “Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I’m saying?

“N-No…” She trembles, in denial. “Whoever you found… is not my boy. It’s not Will.”

“Joyce.” He says, reaching out to touch her shoulder, which she shrugged off. 

“No, you don’t understand. I talked to him… a half hour ago.” She sniffles, and tries to remember every detail. “He was... He was here. He was... He was talking with these.” She gestures to the lights. “Him and Stephanie. Th-They both were here.”

“Talking?” Hopper asked, his composure breaking. It was like looking in the mirror for him. He remembers the denial, the pain of losing a child of his own.

“Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And... And, uh…” She then points to the alphabet wall. “And then I made this so they could talk to me. ‘Cause they were hiding… from that... that thing.”

“The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?”

“Y-Yeah.” 

“Mom, come on, please.” Jonathan begs, heart breaking for his own mother. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

“No, maybe they’re… It’s after them!” She snaps, grabbing onto her son for his support, both physically and emotionally. “They’re in danger. We have to find Them! We—”

“What exactly was this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?” Hopper asked, as she shook her head.

“Uh, no, it was… It was almost... human, but it wasn’t. It… It had these long arms and... it didn’t have a face.”

“It didn’t have a face?” His gaze meets the teenager’s, and he silently tells him to leave. Jonathan does, running off somewhere to cry himself. “Joyce–”

“It didn’t have a face…”

“Joyce, listen to me.” He helps her sit down on the couch, and he kneels before her. “Listen to me.” He starts getting teary eyed too. “After Sarah… I saw her, too. And I heard her. I didn’t know what was real. And then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away. Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole… that I couldn’t get out of.”

“No, you’re... you’re talking about grief.” She shakes her head again. “This is different.”

“I’m just saying that you–” 

“No, I-I know what y-you’re saying, Hop. I sw-swear to you, I-I know what I saw. And I’m n-not crazy.”

“I’m not saying that you’re crazy.”

“N-No... You are. And I understand, but… God, I…” She sobs. “I need you to believe me. Please.” She then whispers, “Please.”

“Listen…” He takes her hands into his own. “I think you should go down to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It’ll give you the answers that you need. But tonight–”

“Oh, God…”

“-I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can.”

“Sl-Sleep?” She asks him, and he nods. She couldn’t comprehend this, couldn’t understand why he won’t believe her. She thought she could trust him, they’ve known each other through thick and thin and he’s just going to forget about all that? That’s…

That’s bullshit.

She shakes her head, pushing his hands away. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. And no one, I mean NO ONE, is going to change my mind.”

Hopper’s expression deepens. “Joyce–”

“Get out of my house.” She spats, and leaves the room. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The black BMW pulled onto Cornwallis Road and drove towards the destination he still has in the back of his head. The radio was up, a song that was setting the mood, or matching it more likely. 

[ ♪ If you leave me now

You’ll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go ♪ ]

His hands regripped the wheel, trying not to cry again.

[ ♪ And if you leave me now

You’ll take away the very heart of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go

Ooh, girl, I just want you to stay ♪ ]

He starts to slow, parking off to the side, a curb across the street where he needed to be. 

[ ♪ A love like ours is love that’s hard to find

How could we let it slip away? ♪ ]

He saw the lights were on, he saw her brother’s bike in the grass and her mother’s car in the driveway. He knows they’re both home, but did they know the news like he did? 

[ ♪ We’ve come too far to leave it all behind

How could we end it all this way?

When tomorrow comes and we;ll both regret

The things we said today ♪ ]

Steve swallows, debating whether or not he should go up there. Will Stephanie’s mom remember him at all? Will her little brother Dustin tackle him as soon as he remembers their history? But despite their shaky past, he still owes the family his condolences, right? 

But just as he was about to get out of the car, he perked up at the sound of sirens coming down the road, and could see the blue and red lights flashing in the night sky. 

Huh. Maybe they didn’t know. Yet even after the swarm arrived in front of the Henderson home, Steve couldn’t help but stay and wait.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Claudia was hysterical, probably more than Joyce was; Yet, she was also more accepting about their theory. Hopper repeated it again, the mother was sitting down with her youngest on the couch. “A trooper found something in the water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie crashed her car, and they made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” 

Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “Oh, my poor baby. Poor Will.” 

“I’m so sorry.” He frowns, his face softens again too. “I know this is going to sound hard, but can you come down to–”

“That’s bullshit.” Dustin interrupted, finally speaking. His face was still puffy and his eyes were red. From being a complete mess earlier, he now looks like he was full of rage.

Hopper blinks, confused. “What?”

“That’s a bullshit theory!” He yells, jolting up.

“Dustin!” Claudia scolds.

“What? It is!” He points to himself. “M-My sister is smarter than that! Will’s smarter than that! It doesn’t matter if they were being chased, they wouldn’t have fallen into the Quarry!” 

“Dustin!” She says again, and then looks at the other adult. “Chief, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” Hopper replies, accepting the apology. Now it was his turn to look at the kid, treading water carefully. “Look, Son–”

“Don’t call me that!” Dustin says, shaking his head.

“Kid–”

“Then where’s the shotgun?!” He replies, making Hopper’s heart sink (He didn’t even think about that). “Huh? You found their bodies, then where’s the gun? And why did they take the gun in the first place? What made them run off the road? Who was chasing them? You aren’t answering any of the obvious fucking questions–”

“Dustin!” Claudia yells, grabbing her son by his wrist. “Show some respect.”

“Fuck, respect.” Dustin pulls himself free. “He ain’t doing his job.” And then he storms out of the room, his mother calling out his name and apologizing once again.

“No, don’t be.” Hopper reassures. “He just lost his only sister. I understand.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. What were we saying before he interrupted?”

“Just, in the morning, if you can, come down to the morgue to verify Stephanie’s body. I’ll already be there with Joyce and her son.” 

“O-Okay. I can do that.” She takes a shaky breath. “Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for trying to bring her home these past few days.”

His eyes widened slightly, not really expecting that kind of reaction. He was honestly stunned and felt like a failure again. “Claudia–”

“No. Don’t.” She takes his hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ve known you since middle school, I know how your mind thinks sometimes. So please don’t feel guilty. I know you were giving it your all to find these kids. Even though… I-It was… a t-terrible outcome, you still found my daughter. You still brought her home.” Another squeeze. “So thank you. James.”

Hopper was speechless, ending up just giving her a nod and a promise to see her tomorrow. As he steps outside, he swallows the urge to start crying again.

“You going to be okay, Chief?” Callahan asked, meeting him halfway down the driveway.

“I’ll be fine.” Hopper replies, a half-lie. “I just need to…” He trails off when he sees a certain someone across the way. What is he doing here?

Callahan follows his gaze, confused. “Hey, isn’t that the Harrington boy?”

“Wrap everything up. I’ll meet you at the station.” Hopper leaves him behind and starts walking towards his target. 

“I was going to pay my condolences but I saw you guys pull in.” Steve says, leaving against the driver door with a sad expression.

“Kind of creepy for someone who says they aren’t friends anymore.” Hopper pokes, hands on his hips – all business again.

“Just because we’re not friends, doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I mean, this house was practically my second home growing up.” It kind of hurts to say that. He looks down, can’t even look the man in the eye while asking this question, “So is it true?”

“Yeah.” Hopper says, sadly. “It is. I… saw the bodies myself.”

Steve shifted his weight around, his chest feeling tight. “Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” What was with all this in denial? “Look, son, I–”

“Are you going to be there at the morgue?” 

Well that was a weird question. “Yes. I will be.” Hopper pauses. “Why?”

Steve shifted again, this time looking the adult in the eye. “‘Cause… there’s probably going to be something on… her body that her family’s not going to be able to explain. It’s…” He sighs. What am I even doing? She’s… gone. The Chief saw her body. This is all real it’s–

“Son?” Hopper said, getting a hum. “Continue? What do you mean about her family not going to be able to explain?”

He swallows, and stands straighter. “When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

His blue eyes rake over the scar, thinking. “You said it was a scar?” Hopper asked, getting a nod. “You know scars tend to fade over some time.”

“I know. But hers was much deeper than mine.” Steve pulls his sleeve back down. “If mine’s still here, I’m pretty sure hers is too.”

He takes a minute to process this. “Okay.” This was still leaving a weird feeling in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He has to, but how the fuck is he going to explain the still secretive accident to Claudia? He sighs. “Aren’t you going in?”

Steve shook his head. “Probably not.” His sad eyes fell on the house. “How distraught are they?”

“Her mother’s a mess, but is accepting, can’t say the same thing for her brother. If looks could kill, he would have.”

“Gotcha. I’ll just…” He swallows, eyes starting to sting again. “Say my condolences at the funeral.” Steve opens his door up, not making eye contact with the adult. “‘Night, Chief.”

“Hey.” Hopper says, stopping the door from being closed. But as soon as their gazes locked, his brain went to a halt. What else could he say? “Nevermind. Get home safe, ‘Kay?”

The teenager nods, letting his door be closed before pulling away. Hopper’s not sure why but…

He feels like he’s missing something here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was curled up in a ball on his bed. He was hugging a pillow tightly, tears quietly rolling down his face. He didn’t think he had anymore tears left in him, but they just kept on coming. 

His sister is dead.

If he didn’t see her body himself, he wouldn’t believe it. 

No more nights of bothering her to watch some cheesy movies.

No more waking up fighting over the bathroom and eating breakfast together.

No more friendly, stupid banters about cryptids.

No more listening to her about customers driving her up the wall.

No more could he slip under the covers with her when a nightmare overtakes him.

No more could he wait by the front door for her so they could go to school.

No more of… anything. It was just him and his mother now. Just him and his mother to make ends meet. 

He choked on the memories, gripping the pillow tighter. “Phanie…” 

.

.

.

The sound of static makes him jolt upright. Heart skipping a beat, he realizes it was coming from his bag. He groans, a mixture of frustration and sadness. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone right now, not even his friends. He just wanted to grieve in peace until at least morning.

He wiggles his walkie talkie out, pulling the antenna all the way up and pressing the button. “Look, guys, please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now. Okay?”

He lets go of the button, waiting for a reply that was nothing more than static came, followed by–

[ ♪–on and let me know ♪ ] 

He drops the walkie like it was made of fire and practically jumps a few feet back. The static was loud, but you couldn’t miss that voice. That voice coming from the speaker sounded a lot like–

[ ♪ Should I stay or should I go? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

If I go there will be trouble 

If I stay it will be double– ♪ ]

He heard a sob, and a whisper of,

[ St-Stephanie… ]

Dustin’s eyes widened with realization. There’s no way he could miss that. He almost felt like crying again. 

“...W-Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy’s knuckles knocked on the door thrice, before trying the doorbell. She crossed her arms when the wind blew harder, wishing she had enough time to grab a sweater or something before she left. She tries the door again after silence, this time the door springs open. She’s met with a woman who was taller than her, dark locks a complete mess, face flushed red. 

She batted her eyes at the girl while clinging to the door. “May I help you?”

“Uh… is, uh, St-Steve home?” Nancy asked, trying to keep her gaze up high on the woman that was clearly wearing just a bra and panties.

“Steven?” She hissed, defensively. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m… Nancy, his girlfriend.” She recognizes the voice. “I think we spoke on the phone–”

“OH! NANCY! Yes! The Wheeler, girl. Yes, I remember. Awe…” Jessica Harrington reached up and pinched her cheek. “You’re just as adorable as I imagine.”

“Um, t-thanks. Uh–” Nancy wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t already feeling uncomfortable. “Is this a bad time? I can come back–”

“No, no, no. Never. Never, dearie.” She said, practically dragging the teenager inside. “Come in, Steven should be back any minute now.” She shuts the door, head turning in another direction. “Charles, are your pants on? Our son’s girlfriend is here.” She smiles. “So how did you two meet? Are you in the same class?”

“Um–”

“So you’re our son’s lover?” Charles Harrington slurred out as he came literally stumbling into the hallway. Face as red as a tomato, hair disheveled and missing his shirt. “I never understand why Steven decided to hide you. You seem so nice.”

“Uh, thank– thank you.” Nancy said, hiding the urge to scrunch up her nose at his alcoholic breath. “Look, if he isn’t here, I’ll catch him in the morning–”

“Nonsense. You should stay.” Jessica urges. “It’ll be nice to get to know you.”

“Yes. Please–” His hand comes up to the girl’s shoulder. “Come sit with us.”

Nancy, this time, visibly shuddered. “I–”

“Get your hand off her, Dad.” Steve’s voice echoed out as he entered through the back door. His face seemed calm, but nobody could miss the fear in his eyes and the anger that was making his hands into fists. 

“Steve?”

“Steven!” His mother exclaimed, all bubbly. “We were just getting to know your girlfriend.”

Steve gets between them, pulling Nancy close and away. “Mom, please, put a robe on. Dad, a shirt.” 

“Yeah, son.” His father said, his hand coming around and grabbing a firm hold of the front of his child’s sweater. “How come we weren’t informed about this news, hmm? How could you do this to me and your mother?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s face, as he started pushing his girlfriend towards the door subtly. “Um, well, Dad–”

“You better have a good explanation.”

“Yeah, Steven.” Jessica said, her hand finding his forearm. “What gives?”

“‘Cause we-we’ve only been dating for a week.” Steve spits out the lie.

Nancy flashes him a look of confusion. “A week?”

“Yeah.” He gives a look now, hoping she gets it. “A week, Nancy.” He then sees the realization in her eyes.

“Yes.” She smiles and chuckles. “Well, it’s a week and a half, actually..”

“Oh, you and your technicality.” He smiles too, hand reaching back to the door knob. “That’s what won me over in math class. Uh, Listen, Mom, Dad, uh, we’ll have to plan a proper dinner out so you get to know Nancy. Okay?”

“Sure she doesn’t want to stay over for a bit?” His mother asked, with a look he didn’t like. “We don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. But it is a school night, and it’s late. We also got uh, uh, a huge test tomorrow. So we should get some rest, you know?”

She frowns. “Awe. Okay. We can definitely plan a date.”

“Perfect! We can talk about it later, uh–” Steve opens the door and manages to get out his parents’ holds. “Just going to walk her back to her car.”

“Like a proper gentleman.” She smiles again, and gaze trails to the Wheeler. “You definitely scored with my son.”

“Oh, for sure. I agree.” Nancy said, getting forced outside.

“Be right back.” Steve replies, stepping out too and shutting the door.

“Steve– Hey!” He grabs her hands and strings her along quickly; She felt like they were sprinting down the driveway. “Steve?” She tests out his name as he takes a look back at his house before picking up the speed. “Steve! Talk to me! What is–”

“Don’t come to my house.” He blurts out the moment they are in front of her car. 

She blinks. “What?”

“Don’t…” He exhales. “Don’t come to my house. At least at night. ‘Cause my parents like to… party, or…” He groans. “Actually, don’t come to my house alone. When my parents are here, make sure you only come when I’m there or I’m with you, alright? Do you understand?”

No, she certainly does not. “Steve, what do you mean? Why don’t you–”

“Did my mom say anything?”

Another blink. “What?”

“Did my dad do anything? Like… h-how uncomfortable were you? B-Be honest, Nance.”

“Steve, I don’t…” She trails off when she finally sees him whole. He seemed so… distraught. And she knows it’s probably not just about the sour news of Stephanie. For some reason, he’s scared of her going into his house. “Steve.” She tries again, softer. “What’s going on? Are your parents hur–”

“Why are you here, Nancy?”

She frowns, worriedly. “I was just wondering if you heard the news?”

Steve looks down at his feet. “About Will and Stephanie?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I-I heard…”

Nancy gently cups his face. She could see the corner of his eyes were red and irritated. Crying. Steve must have been crying. “Are you okay?”

Steve stayed quiet, building up the courage to speak – to make it sound confident. “Yeah. I’m fine. It just… caught me off guard.”

“You sure? You can talk to me. I’m not going to–”

“How’s your brother?”

She bites her lip. “Mike’s… really upset. I mean who wouldn’t be when it’s your friend.”

Steve hums. “Maybe you should go back. Check in on him.”

“But, Steve–”

“I appreciate you coming over and making sure that I’m okay.” A bittersweet look blooms on his face. “Really. Your compassion is one of the things I love about you. But I think you should go home to your family. They’re probably wondering where you’re at.”

She shakes her head. “Steve–”

“As for my parents, forget about tonight. I’ll… I promise I’ll explain them to you one day, but for now, just forget you ever met them. Okay?”

She gave in, not wanting to argue. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” He gives her a quick kiss, and pulls away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night…” Her blue eyes trail him as he heads inside, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Was he going to be alright? Should she call someone? Should she–

A twinge snapped behind her.

She turns around, the sound coming from the woods. She squinted and took a small step – a shadow moved across the bushes – tall, lanky… no face– What?

She heard the shadow shift around again, and then swore she heard a growl coming from it. Paling instantly, Nancy took small steps back towards her car, feeling around for the handle. Once she grasps it she gets in, hands tightly on the steering wheel. Swallowing, she takes one look back over her shoulder, the shadow to have disappeared into the beyond. 

Death.

Disappearances.

A thing with no face.

What the hell is happening to Hawkins? 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself! He knows what he heard, he knows that was Will. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, his mind in overdrive on what and why and how this was even possible. But sometime in the night, an idea hit him hard. 

The next morning, he made sure his mother was okay, and fit enough to go to the morgue. She already told him the night before that he should stay home, playing the kid card on him. Usually, he would have been upset at this statement, but this time he decided it was time to hold his tongue. As soon as Dustin saw the car leave, he wastes no time to pop open his walkie talkie antenna, tuning into a certain channel. 

“Lucas, do you copy?” He said, waiting. He was met with static, but he just knows his friend is nearby and listening (His friends are never far away from their source of communication). “Lucas, come on, I know you’re there! This is urgent.”

Nothing.

“I’m serious. I’m not gonna stop until you answer.”

Nothing again. 

“Lucas. Lucas! Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas–”

[ ‘Go away, Dustin. I’m not in the mood, all right? Over and out.’ ]

“No, not ‘out’. I’m not messing around, okay?” He starts pacing around his living room. “This is about Will and my sister. Over.”

[ ‘What about them? You mean about their funeral? Over.’ ]

“No, not their funeral. Fuck their funeral!”

[ ‘W-What?’ ]

“Just get over to my place, stat. And tell Mike to bring Eleven too.”

[ ‘Eleven? Why? She’s the reason–’ ]

“JUST DO IT! OKAY!” He yells, face red, open hand in a fist. “Over and out!”

[ ‘Dustin–’ ]

Dustin pushes the antenna down and shuts the device off. He knows Lucas will listen, even if he thinks he’s lost his mind, he’ll still listen. His eyes fall on a family picture on one of the side tables, his heart skipping a beat.

“Don’t worry, guys. We’re going to find you no matter where you are.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, down at the Coroner’s office, Hopper waited impatiently for… what? Half an hour now? He sighs. “What’s taking so long?”

“Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.” The receptionist, Patty said, upset as well.

Hopper perks up at this news. “Without Gary?” That doesn’t make sense. “Where’s Gary?”

“Well, I thought you knew. Those men from State, they... they sent Gary home last night.”

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.” 

Someone from State? I mean, the crime scene made sense, but the autopsy? Why would they send someone to an autopsy? On two kids no less? He wanted to ask more questions, but that’s when the oldest child of the Byers’ family came out looking sick to his stomach.

Hopper can tell he was trying to hold it all together the best he could. Poor kid. 

“How’s your mom doing?” He asked, after a while of silence. 

Jonathan sniffled, head still hanging low. “I don’t know.” He whispers.

“How long’s this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh… Will and the thing in the wall?”

“Since the first phone call, I guess.” A sob. “You know, she’s had anxiety problems… in the past. But this… I don’t know.” He exhales shakily. “I’m worried it could be…” He shakes his head. “Ugh, I don’t know. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom… she’s tough.”

“Yeah, she is.” Hopper said, getting a chuckle out of the kid. He then placed a firm hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey. She is.”

That got Jonathan to cheer up for just a second before it crashed down again. Joyce came storming out, the coroner following behind with a clipboard asking her to sign; Which she’s flat out refusing.

“I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!” She shouted, waving him off.

“Joyce, wait a second.” Hopper said, standing.

“No!” She snapped, and hustled out the door, Jonathan following right behind. As soon as she leaves, it was like a chain reaction, because Claudia just arrived. 

She already had a hand covering her mouth at the sight of seeing Joyce. “I-I… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Hey, hey–” Hopper comes over reassuringly. “Hey, Claudia. It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but it is necessary.” He sees her closing her eyes to steady herself. “Would you like me to come in?” She nods. “‘Kay. Let’s go. Come on.”

He walks her to the back, telling the coroner who they’re here for, and was left waiting for him to get the body. 

“I don’t know how to thank you, James. You’ve always seemed to help my family when we’re in a rut.” Claudia said, trying to hold it together. 

“Just doing my job.” He replies, with a warm smile.

“Still.” She looks up at him fondly. “I don’t think I appreciated you enough when you helped put Walter away.”

Walter. He remembers her shitty husband very clearly.

He nods. “Well, if it wasn’t for that anonymous tip, I wouldn’t have been able to have done that.”

She hums. “Yes, the tip.” She sighs. “I wonder who has the guts to do that.”

Yeah, he always wondered who the tipper was too. 

“You ready, Ma’am?” The coroner asked, after wheeling on the table.

Claudia nods, her hands squeezing together. “Yes.” She inhales. “Show me.”

He does so, and she holds back the urge to cry again upon seeing her daughter’s body. She couldn’t help but wonder why God would take such a beautiful girl.

“Oh, god… that’s her.” She mutters, biting her lip.

As Hopper was able to keep his composure, he was suddenly hit with a memory like a speeding truck. He almost completely forgot about what the Steve Harrington kid told him last night.

.

“When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

.

The scar. Of course! How could he forget? His lips tugged into a frown, and began with, “Claudia, there’s…”

Wait a minute. 

His gaze went straight for where the boy told him the scar would be but there was…

Nothing.

He blinked and looked on the other shoulder just to be sure but there was nothing either. If Steve’s scarred, then hers should have been, right?

“Chief?” Claudia said, pulling him out of his trance. “Did you say something?”

His eyes glance at her and then back at the body before shaking his head. “No.” Then back at her. “Never mind.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve was late to school the first time in a while. His clothes looked a bit sloppy, his hair did too, and he was practically dragging his backpack on the floor with only its handle. He had managed to avoid the girlfriend talk this morning with his parents since they were both hungover and still in bed. He’s not really sure how he’ll handle it later (If they actually remember Nancy that is). 

He took his time moving through the halls, trying to straighten up his posture, to put up somewhat of a nice expression. What would Tommy and Carol say? Would they belittle him? Ignore him? Pretend that the death of a school student didn’t exist? And what about Nancy? Will she say anything? Will she ignore him too?

He frowns, the intercom buzzing above.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Stephanie Henderson in the gymnasium 10am. Do not go to second period. Classes shall resume afterwards. //

An assembly? For Stephanie? How many people will actually go? How many people would actually be respectful? She wasn’t exactly miss popular.

He shakes his head. Don’t even think that, Harrington. It’ll be fine. It’ll be…

He trails off as soon as he rounded the corner. He didn’t need super sight to know what it was. For some reason instead of leaping towards it like he should be, he was slow, sick by the sight. Someone, probably more than one, had vandalized her locker. Someone had spray painted, egged, beat the living hell out of it with either a bat or a crowbar, all because she was what? The weird girl? The girl who was nerdy? The girl who likes stuff only guys like? The girl who’s vocabulary is like a sailor? 

The girl who doesn’t fit in unless it’s with the “freaks”?

With disgust, Steve pulled off the missing poster of her. Someone had scribbled horns, covered the eyes, and called her a freak in bright red. How could someone with a heart do this to the one of the kindest girls he’s ever met?

He crushed the paper in his hand, before opening up the locker, some belonging falling out. He sighs, dropping his bag before deciding to tidy this up. Maybe he should bring her family her things so they don’t have to see this mess?

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?” A teacher, Mrs. Trebecky said, hands on her hips.

Steve glances over at her, his look telling it all. “I’m just trying to clean it up.” Her eyes trail over, finally seeing what he was talking about. Yet he didn’t care if he got scolded or got detention for skipping class, this was more important. But to his surprise, there was a key suddenly dangling in his face.

“There’s a storage closet around the corner. Use whatever you need.” She replies, and he takes it. “I have to prepare the gym for the assembly, but if you need something else, feel free to come get me.”

Steve clenches the key close as she leaves, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. At least she wasn’t mad. 

He starts walking to where she said it was, only to spot another odd sighting. There was a boy (who looked oddly familiar to him) leaning against the wall right by the door – the same door that was actually opened. Raising an eyebrow and slowing his pace, he didn’t know what to think or even say before the boy saw him coming. It was like a match had been lit under his feet, the boy jerked up so quickly, and threw the door open even wider.

“We’ve been spotted! We gotta go!” He shouted and took off. 

Steve then watched as two other teenagers came running out, faster than anyone on the football team. What the hell is that all about?

But he chose to ignore it, opening the door fully, nearly clashing with some else that was left behind in the group. The person seemed startled to see him, taking a small step back and growing a bit paler. It didn’t take the King of highschool to realize who this is – the person with brown curls tucked back in small ponytail, with a wardrobe that reminded him of Stephanie – The person was know another than:

.

Eddie Munson.

.

Well now he knows why he looks scared. Steve nearly cringes and cusses at himself out loud for what he’s done in the past. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Instead, he kept his blank expression and started moving around him. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Munson.” He replies, looking over all the cleaning supplies on the shelf.

“It’s…” Eddie begins, still tense, but confused by how simple and nice Steve sounded. “Fine. Um… Wh-What brings you here? N-Need something?”

“Relax, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Man, how many people has he hurt with his new personality? “I was going to clean up a vandalized locker.”

Eddie perks up, even more confused. “The Henderson girl’s locker?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… surprising.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Steve frowns, sparing a glance. That’s when he notices he’s holding a few sponges and a bucket. “Oh. Were… were you going to clean?”

“Um–” Eddie breaks his gaze. “M-Me and my boys saw it on our way in, thought we would clean it up. Hope I don’t get in trouble for picking the lock.” He ends with a quiet, nervous chuckle which honestly fueled the other boy’s guilt.

“Is that so?”

“Well… W-we do know what it’s like to have our lockers destroyed by the… ‘perfectionists’.” 

Perfectionists, fuck. Steve swallows and mentally strangles himself. What have I done?

He exhales quietly, and starts gathering things. “You should go.”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped right back at him. “What?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve says, not looking at him. “I know you’ve been trying to graduate.”

“How–”

“Go.” Steve pressures. “Don’t…” Why was this so hard? “Don’t fall behind. Especially in Kaminsky’s class. He’s a hardass if you don’t listen and study.” 

Eddie was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe it was coming from the legend of the school himself (Guess there was a first time for everything, right?) “You sure? Doesn’t… Doesn’t the King of Hawkins High want to keep his good grades up?”

“I don’t care anymore.” Steve replies quickly, surprising the other teen again, but it was the truth. He could care less about all this right now. “Frankly, I didn’t want to even be here today, so…” 

He didn’t say anymore, instead he tried holding whatever he could in his arms. Silently, and luckily he noticed it in the corner of his eye, he saw Munson holding up the bucket as an offer. He takes it and thanks him. He loads it up and makes his way to leave, but stops in the doorway. 

“You know she liked your band.” Steve blurts out, getting another puzzled stare. “Uh, Fia, she– wait.” Fia. He almost forgot about his little nickname for her. It makes his stomach roll into knots as he tries again. “S-Sorry, Stephanie… really liked your band. She went to your show a few years back. Uh, the Lover’s Lake one. She is– w-was definitely a metal head.”

That seemed to surprise him a lot, because Eddie actually perks up with joy this time. There even was a smile tugging on his lips. 

“She’s seen Corroded Coffin?” He asked, intrigued. 

“Yeah. She really liked that opening song of yours.” 

“‘To Love a Monster’?” 

Steve nods, still remembering that day so clearly, still remembering the day he showed her the tickets. “She sang it for weeks afterwards. It was… funny. Cute– Awesome! It was awesome.”

Eddie gave him another look, one he couldn’t quite place. “That’s… amazing. I never knew that. Most of our fans are just people from our neighbourhoods.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, feeling his eye starting to sting. “Just thought I’d let you know that since you… offered to clean up her locker.” He swallows once more, and he tries to leave, but his conscience gets the best of him. It’s now or never, Harrington.

Looking like a kicked puppy, he faces him again. “I’m sorry.” Steve says, honestly. “I’m really, really sorry for everything I’ve done. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant with you and your– your bandmates, and I realize that I’m an asshole. A real fucking asshole, so– um…” He didn’t have to forgive him, he just wanted to get it out there. “I don’t need forgiveness, but at least accept it.”

Steve didn’t even wait for his answer, didn’t wait for a change on his face, and just left to finish what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Eddie watches him leave just as his friends come running back, worriedness on their features.

“What did he do? Do we need to report him?” Gareth asked, scaredly.

“No, he…” Eddie still couldn’t believe the last few minutes even happened. “He apologized.” He looks over at them. “For being a dick.”

“What?”

“And then he said that Henderson girl went to our Lover’s Lake concert a few years back.” That response got his friends muttering amongst themselves. 

“She did?” 

“How would Harrington know that, though? All our tickets are limited.” Jeff asked.

“Unless…”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “They were friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin snuck his friends in from the back, immediately rambling last night’s situation. Of course he got looks of concern, and sentences of reassurance before he shook them all off and showed them. They sat around on his bedroom floor, fiddling with the walkie. It was faint, and it certainly wasn’t the song he heard last night, but he could tell by the mumbling words that it was in fact Will.

“We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?” Dustin said, looking between them.

“Yeah, I heard a baby.” Lucas said, looking at his friend like he had three heads.

Dustin looks offended. “A baby?”

He rolls his eyes. “Dustin, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It’s probably one of your neighbours.”

“Uh, did that sound like a baby to you? That was Will!” 

“Dustin…”

“Lucas, you don’t understand. He spoke last night. Words! He was singing that weird song he loves. And he even said my sister’s name.”

“Oh, well, if the of you heard your sister’s name, then I guess–”

“Are you sure you’re on the right channel?” Mike asked, genuinely invested in this.

A small smile blooms on Dustin’s face. Finally! At least someone believed him. “I don’t think it’s about that. I think, somehow, I was channeling him.”

“Like... like Professor X.”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah.” 

“Are you actually believing this crap?” Lucas asked, staring at Mike like he was the weird one here.

“I don’t know, I mean… Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that.”

“Oh, my god.” Lucas groans “Did you guys not see what I saw? They pulled Will’s body out of the water. They pulled Stephanie’s body out of the water too. They’re dead!”

“Well, maybe it’s their ghost. Maybe they’re haunting us.” Mike replies.

“It’s not their ghost.” Dustin said, shaking his head. 

“So how do you know that?” Lucas pushes.

“I just do!”

“Then what was in that water?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin shoots to his feet. “All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! If he’s alive, then there’s a good chance Stephanie is too. They’re out there somewhere. All we have to do is find them. And I know for fact…” He points at Eleven. “She’s the key.” He frowns, and looks her way (Guilt on his face). “I’m sorry for how I reacted last night. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, just the situation. But I know you’re really our only shot at finding them. Please forgive me.”

It took a second, but Eleven nods and smiles with understanding, lifting the weight of the boy’s shoulders. 

“Well…” Mike begins, stopping him from handing over the walkie. “If you want her to somehow channel them, this isn’t gonna work. We need to get El to a stronger radio. Like, Mr. Clarke’s Heathkit ham shack.”

Dustin perks up. “That’ll totally work!”

“The Heathkit’s at school.” Lucas butts in. “There is no way we’re gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean…” He gestures. “Look at her.”

But the Henderson brushed him off. “Don’t worry about that. I have an idea.” And then they busted into his sister’s room. “You might have to roll up the pant legs and/or sleeves, but Phanie’s stuff should be able to fit you just fine.”

“Uh, no offense to Stephanie–” Lucas begins, watching him rummage through his sister’s drawers. “But she’s not exactly the definition of girly-girl.”

“So? Look, we just want to get El inside the school. Mike, go to my mom’s room and grab some of her makeup. Lucas, head to the basement, I think we might have some wigs left over from a couple Halloweens. Go!”

They scatter, and Dustin continues grabbing what he can and lays it out on the bed. “Here.” He tells the girl. “Try a couple outfits on. See what fits.”

El takes a moment to look at them, mesmerized. “Pretty?” She asks, puzzled.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “We’re going to make you look pretty. Or at least prettier.”

She bats an eye. “Prettier?” 

“Yeah. They say, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. Just because someone doesn’t think you’re pretty, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” It seemed to get her spirits up just as the other boys arrived with the stuff.

“Got the makeup.” Mike said, holding the pile in his arms.

“And I found a wig. Hopefully this works.” Lucas says, holding it up.

“Perfect.” Dustin gives the thumbs up. “Let’s do light on the makeup, and let’s put a braid in the wig.” After their tasks, the boys waited outside the door for her to change.

“Is that really the best wig you could have found?” Mike said, after a few moments of silence. 

“What’s wrong with the wig?” Lucas asked, offended.

“Don’t you remember? That was the wig Steph used to dress up as a clown.”

“It’s not that orange, Mike.” Dustin said, Lucas agreeing.

“It’s orange.”

“Dude, come on–”

The door opens, and El steps out to reveal the outfit she picked. It happened to be a Mötley Crüe band tee that was tucked into some jeans, a red and black plaid button up as a jacket and some converse; Her wig was in a neat braid and was accompanied with a headband.

“Wow.” Mike said, staring.

“It’s like my sister has a prodigy.” Dustin said, grinning. “Grunge girl, 2.0.”

“How do you feel?”

Eleven looks herself up and down before smiling at herself. “Pretty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was pretty awkward to sit outside the cafeteria doors waiting to be called in and questioned by police. Nancy was the first to be called in, the first to have a parent actually show up to observe. It felt weird, and she could feel her mother’s eyes watching her closely.

“This argument you and Barbara had? What exactly was it about?” Powell asked, after reading over his notes.

Nancy gives a half-shrug. “It wasn’t really an argument. Barb just wanted to leave. I didn’t, so, I… I told her to just go home.”

“Then what?”

“Then I went upstairs to put on some dry clothes.”

“And the next day, you went back and…” Callahan reads over his notes too. “Saw a bear, you’re thinking?

“I don’t know what it was, but… I think…” She frowns. “I think maybe it took Barb. You need to check behind Steve’s house— 

“We did. There’s nothing there. There’s no sign of a bear.”

“And no car.” Powell adds.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“Look.” Callahan sighs. “We figured that Barbara came back last night and then she took off, went somewhere else. Has she ever talked to you about running off? Leaving town, maybe?”

“No. No, Barb wouldn’t do that, ever.” Nancy assures.

“She wasn’t maybe upset about the fact that you were spending time with this boy?” Powell glances down again. “Uh, Steve Harrington?

“What? No!”

“Maybe she was jealous because she saw you go up to Steve’s room?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Steve and me, we’re... we’re just friends. We... we just talked.”

“Just talked?” Callahan gives her a look.

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. Just talked.” She wanted to say something else until the door opened, showing off to another officer.

“Hey–” He said, thumb jerking over his shoulder. “The Hagan and Perkins kids, they’re parents aren’t coming, they refuse for us to talk to their kids. Harrington’s parents said they’re too busy with work to come, but have given us permission to talk to their son.”

Powell sighs, looking over his partner who shrugged. “Alright. Send them home. Except Harrington, have him come in. You–” He looks at Nancy. “You’re dismissed.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So, Gary, tell me about these troopers that brought in the kids.” Hopper asked, after settling Hawkins local coroner down. He told him to come down to the station, offering him a cup of joe as he tries to get a few things straightened out. He still finds this whole… State taking over everything is a bit odd.

“It was about six of ’em, I’d say.” Gary replies, with a nod.

“They’re all Staties?”

“Yes, sir. Never seen that many troopers come with two bodies before.”

“They told you that they were gonna take care of the autopsy, huh?”

“Yeah. Claimed jurisdiction. Kicked me out. Well, it all seemed a bit over the top to me, considering…” He looked a bit nervous about this. 

“Considering what?” Hopper asked, suspicious. 

“Considering this was Will Byers and Stephanie Henderson and not John F. Kennedy.”

So this wasn’t just weird to me? Great. His eyes catch something on the tv, making him stand up. “Thanks for stopping by, Gary.”

“Sure thing.”

Hopper tunes everything else out as he turns up the volume, listening as a state trooper talks to the reporter about the incident. 

.

< -let the people know that, uh, the troopers are on duty and you should be safe, because we think this is just an isolated incident. >

< State trooper David O’Bannon, thank you so much for your help. >

< Thank you, sir. >

.

O’Bannon. Gary. Staties. Hawkins Lab. Hopper’s frown deepens. What does this all mean?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And that’s when Jim came up with another question that he needed to answer. Something that’s been nagging him since yesterday. So that’s how he found himself at Hawkins High School. He had to swerve around the teens leaving the gymnasium from Stephanie’s assembly, and just hoped that his guys were still in the cafeteria questioning some suspects. Well… hopefully the one he really wanted to talk to was still there.

“Oh, hey Chief.” Callahan calls out, just as Hopper bursts through the doors.

Hopper’s gaze trails to the teen in questioning – and thank god it was the person he was looking for. With a serious look he storms over, completely ignoring everything and everyone else.

“We just got done with–”

“I need you to give me the room for a second.” Hopper blurts out, the two officers staring. “Now.” Callahan and Powell waste no time to get up and leave, the whole place growing silent immediately. 

Steve glances between the door and the police Chief, confused. “Is there a problem?”

Without saying anything, Hopper reaches over and lifts Steve’s left arm sleeve, seeing the scar again. Blinking, and kicking his senses into high gear, the teenager pulls his arm away – the officer looking like he was scared. 

“Dude, what the fu–”

“How long ago was that?” Hopper asks, practically fidgeting in his seat. 

“I’m sorry?”

“How long ago did you get the scar?”

“Um, I…” Steve pauses to think. When did he get it? “Three… three years ago? Maybe longer?”

“And you said both your injuries were deep? Especially Stephanie’s?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Hopper suddenly is overcome with worriedness, causing him to look around and lowers his voice. “Listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I’m only going to say it once. Understood?” He waits for the teenager to nod again before going. “Good.”

He takes a deep breath. “Look, her mother’s a mess, hysterical. And her brother is just… angry. I want to ask them stuff, but I think it’ll be an emotionally… fusing answer. They’re not going to be able to give me something basic. So what I’m trying to say is, I don’t care what happened between the two of you, but be honest. How well did you know this girl?”

And Steve, of course, doesn’t lie (he too wants to know what the hell’s going on). “Pretty well, I like to think. I mean we were tied at the hip since the age of five. We never really went anywhere without each other.” He frowns, scared. “You’re kind of making me nervous. What’s going on?”

Hopper looks around again, getting closer. “Just answer my questions. How likely was it for Stephanie to pick up Will that night when she saw him stranded?”

“Highly.” Steve says, truthfully. “She loves her brother’s friends.”

“How likely was it for her to protect him from whatever was chasing them?”

“Highly. That’s the kind of person she is. Putting herself before others.”

With each answer, Hopper’s heart picks up. “How likely was it for her to take a weapon if she felt like she was in danger?”

“She’s not exactly a violent person, but… if she was in danger, she’s smart enough to arm herself.”

“How much is she familiar with the woods around here?”

“Only certain areas she really knows like the back of her hand.”

“What about the Quarry?” 

“The Quarry?” Steve said, fond memories coming in. “That used to be our spot when we were kids. We know the ends and out of it pretty well.”

Now Hopper feels destroyed. He was half expecting this answer but still. It wasn’t easy to accept. “So… hypothetically speaking, if she was being chased in the direction of the Quarry, how likely would she have fallen in?”

Steve gets taken aback, his heart sinking. “Unlikely. She always knew where she was going.” He was oblivious to the way the Chief suddenly looked. “So it wasn’t the news making a theory? Stephanie and Will actually fell into the Quarry?”

“Fuck.” Hopper says, standing up and starts leaving.

Steve gets up as well, following. “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

Steve just nods, scared to talk back as the Police Chief finally left with the answer he was worried about – while Harrington was also left with a question that was now answered. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad.” Mike says, as they entered the school. Right on cue, someone came on the PA, which is the perfect cover up for them.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period. //

“It’s locked.”

“What?” Lucas said, brushing by Mike to try the door.

“Hey, do you think you can open it? With your powers?” Dustin asked, hopefully. But before anything could be resolved, their teacher just so happened to appear around the corner. 

“Boys?” Mr. Clarke said, startling them. “Assembly’s about to start.”

“We know. We’re just, you know…” Mike trails over, pretending to be sad. 

“Upset.” Lucas finishes.

“Y-Yeah, d-definitely upset.” Dustin adds.

“We need some alone time.”

“To cry.”

“Yeah, listen… I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let’s just be there for Will, huh? And then…” Mr. Clarke fishes his keys out of his pocket, tossing them over. “The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?” The boys smiled and nodded eagerly. “I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name?”

El’s eyes widened, and stutters, “Eleven–”

“Eleanor!” Mike corrects. “She’s my, uh–”

“Cousin.” Lucas says.

“Second cousin.” Dustin blurts out. 

“She’s here for Will and Stephanie’s funeral.” Mike finishes. 

Mr. Clarke frowns, bittersweetly. “Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances.”

“Thank you.” She says.

“Uh, where are you from exactly?”

“Bad place–”

“Sweden!” Dustin shouts.

“I have a lot of Swedish family.” Mike explains. 

“She hates it there.”

“Cold!” Lucas adds, smiling nervously.

“Subzero.”

Mr. Clarke nods, deciding to just go along with this. “Shall we?”

“Yep!” They said, running along.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You lied to the police!” Karen snapped at her daughter as they entered the house.

“I didn’t lie!” Nancy shouted back, about to head for her room.

“How naive do you think I am!? You and Steve were just talking?”

The teenager gritted her teeth, stopping on the stairs. “We did just talk! Okay? I found out Steve used to know Dustin’s sister, and we talked about it! Is that what you want to know? Huh? It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter!” Her mother shouts back.

“No!” Nancy scoffs. “It is all bullshit! It has nothing to do with Barb and she’s missing. And something terrible happened to her. I know it. I know it! And no one is listening to me!” She storms off towards her room, her mother shouting her name repeatedly. “Just leave me alone!”

And then her door slams shut.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Listening to the principal speak, the boys realized he probably was the only one who actually cares. The rest of the school, the students, looked like they were completely lost and not interested in listening to this. 

“Look at these fakers.” Mike mutters, irritated. 

“They probably didn’t even know his name till today.” Lucas scoffed.

The boys continued to survey the area, they heard the two school bullies laughing. Troy and James were laughing and mocking what the principal was saying about their friend Will, completely berating him. The Boys glared, all while Eleven put two and two together. 

“Mouth breather.” She says, remembering what Mike told her who was responsible for the gash on his chin.

He was actually surprised she remembered, and continued to try to ignore their laughing. But when assembly finally ended, Mike couldn’t hold back his anger any more.

“Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! You... you think this is funny?” 

Troy stopped and scoffed. “What’d you say, Wheeler?”

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike said, oblivious to the audience he was getting. “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Didn’t you listen to the counselor, Wheeler?” James said, smiling. “Grief shows itself in funny ways.”

Mike balled his hands into fists, and ready to snap; Just as Dustin steps up to the plate.

“What did I say yesterday? You keep my sister’s and Will’s name out of your mouths.” He replies.

“So what, Henderson?” Troy shrugged. “Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay– and your sister… well… I didn’t take her to be a pedo for your little friend.”

Dustin’s face morphed into one of a killer. “You–”

“Asshole!” Mike shouted, and shoved their bully to the floor. Immediately, their audiences gasp in shock. 

Troy groaned, and stood up, charging up his fist. “You’re dead, Wheeler! Dead!”

But before he could release it, his whole body froze. Everyone stared in confusion, even Troy didn’t know what was going on. Then…

A student started laughing. 

“Dude, Troy peed himself.”

And the giggles broke out because everyone’s eyes were on his pants. Sure enough, there was a stain appearing and running down his pant leg.

“Holy shit!” Dustin said, his gaze looking back to El. She flashes the boys a cocky look before wiping the blood from her nose.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” The principal shouted as he entered the room.

“Shit! Let’s go!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan was surprised to see her at the Funeral home, interrupting his shopping (Although, seeing all these coffins and trying to find one for his little brother, maybe it was best to take a break). To his disbelief, she asked him to see his collection of photos from Steve’s backyard.

Of course, now he was nervous. Did she change her mind about protecting him the other day? Was she going to rat him out to the police after all? But instead, she carefully looked through them, until she found one he took of Barb. 

“That’s it.” Nancy said, putting on the weird distorted blur behind her friend. “W-What is that?”

He takes it from her hands, studying it hard. “It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle.” He frowns, uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s weird.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No. And she was there one second and then, um… gone. I figured she bolted.”

She sighs. “The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb. And I went back to Steve’s… and I thought I… saw something. Some… weird man or… I don’t know what it was.” She glances over at him, realizing what she was doing. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m…” She grabs her purse and stands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Jonathan right there and then decided to bite the bullet. His mind wandered back to when the police came over to tell him and his mother what happened to Will. “What’d he look like?

She stops a few steps away, turning around. “What?”

“This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know.” She knows she is going to sound crazy when she tells him this. “It was almost like he… he didn’t have–”

“Didn’t have a face?”

Nancy stares at him, a bit freaked out. “How did you know that?”

Jonathan suddenly shakes his head, running a hand through his locks. “Shit…”

“What?”

“Shit.” He stands up, guilt on his face. “I think I fucked up.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

None of this made sense.

Steve had parked his car off the road and had walked a path he knew like the back of his hand. He found himself soon standing above the Quarry, a view of where the crime scene had happened. It was still tapped off and there were two cop cars still sitting there, observing. He frowns, and his brain starts going into overdrive. 

None of this made sense. 

She crashes her car not far from the boy’s house, they both run and somehow end up with a shotgun. But the police are saying they ended up in the Quarry, probably being chased but…

It doesn’t make any sense. The Byers house does face the road that takes you to the Quarry, but there’s no logical way that they would follow the road like that. If the theory was true, and they did run back to the house, they would more likely would have run through the front door, and out the back if someone was chasing them; Which means–

They would have ended up going into the woods, not the direction of the Quarry. And you wouldn’t make that harsh right turn unless the chaser was making you do that. No…

If someone was chasing you, the human reaction is to keep running straight until you find somewhere or someone safe. 

And if they did get pulled in the direction, there’s no way they would have just fallen in. Steph knows that place too well, and even though they were driven to the edge, wouldn’t the smart thing to do is use the shotgun on your chaser?

His mind wanders back to the conversation with the police chief. He seemed so spooked after he told him the truth. And what was the worried reaction after looking at his scar again? Unless…

Did… Steve nearly choked on the thought. Did her body not have the scar?

But if it didn’t have the scar then…

He gasps.

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” 

.

Not you too? What does that even mean? Did Stephanie’s mother have doubts too? Did Will’s mother have doubts? Was he really doubting the whole situation from the beginning as well?

But his mind kept going back to Hopper and him just an hour ago.

.

 “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

.

Oh, god.

Steve couldn’t even believe what he was considering doing next.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper sat in street clothes at a bar, a shit eating grin on his face, a cigarette in hand, and he was keeping a close eye on the man sitting next to him who was currently watching a football game on the tv. He chuckles, getting the bartender’s attention. 

“Another, please. And another for my, uh, friend here.”

“Oh, thanks, man. Appreciate it.” The guy, a Statie, named David said. 

“Yeah, that’s all right. I’m, uh... I’m celebrating. My daughter, she won the spelling bee today.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Hopper said, chuckling. “‘Odontalgia’. That was the word. You know what it means?” He gets a ‘no’ for an answer. “It’s a fancy name for a toothache.” His grin grows. “Yeah, she’s smart. She’s real smart. Don’t know where she gets it from. I’ve been tryin’ to figure that out for years.”

“Your daughter, she got a name?”

Hopper’s brain short circuited for a second. “What?”

“Your daughter? What’s her name?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sarah. Her name’s Sarah.”

David grabs his bottle and holds it up. “To Sarah.” He said, and they clink their glasses. The police chief finally had the hook in place.

Hopper takes a sip, and turns up his acting skills. “I recognize you. Are you famous or somethin’?”

“Uh, you might have seen me on TV, I, uh... I found those kids.”

Gotcha, asshole. Hopper nods. “So, you on that case or what?”

“I just saw the kids on patrol, you know? Dumb luck.”

“So that Quarry, that’s, uh… that’s state-run, where they found those kids, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper starts laughing quietly. “Yeah, well, that’s funny. ’Cause, you know, I know for a fact that it’s run by the Sattler Company. Frank Sattler? Decent guy, still got a couple operational quarries up in Roane.

David starts looking preoccupied. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” He starts glaring. “So why are you lying to me, man?”

“What’s your problem, bud?” David snaps.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

“Yeah? Well, stick your nose someplace else. Those kids are dead. End of story.” He stands up and throws some money on the counter. “Thanks for ruining the game, dick.”

Hopper shakes his head, almost pitying the guy. If only he had just been honest and open with him, he wouldn’t have to get his ass beaten. 

Kind of like right now. 

He had dragged the man behind the building, striking him multiple times to bruise his cheeks, and open wounds under his eyes and nose.

“Okay…” Hopper pins him to the wall. “Let’s try this one more time.” He grabs the man by the chin, squeezing. “Who told you to be out there? What were you doing out there?” He watched for an answer, and when he wasn’t getting any, he dialed back his fist.

“I don’t know!” David shouts. “I don’t know. They… they just told me to call it in and not let anybody get too close.

“Get close to what?!”

“The bodies.”

The bodies? Why? Hopper huffs and squeezes tighter. “Who do you work for? The NSA? Hawkins Lab?” He catches David’s gaze falling behind him and looks, spotting a black car in the distance. “Who is that?”

“You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Who is that? Hey! Hey!” Hopper takes off, pulling out his gun. But to no avail, the car was already off. And so was the Statie in question. He looked around, gripping his hair. “Fuck…”

What the fuck is going on?!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will didn’t know what to do. Stephanie had passed out, and is still passed out after all this time. He had a blanket draped over her, and propped her head up against her backpack. He didn’t know if she was coming down with something either or not because the temperature was making his hands feel numb even with the gloves on.

What can he do? The only thought that crossed his mind was going back to his house and trying to contact his mother. But the problem with that is, is he’ll have to leave Steph behind. There’s no way he can carry her back, no way he can drag her back either without collapsing himself, and then what? The monster comes and gets them while they’re unconscious? 

Heck, no!

But… that means the first option is the only logical way to do this.

Will decides to lighten his load, only taking the shotgun with him and scrambles to find something to write on. He still had his school notebook in his bag and wrote a quick message on one of the pages.

WENT TO GET HELP. 

Then he placed it right next to her head. He hopes she doesn’t freak out too badly before and after reading the note, and hopes when they do reconnect she won’t scold him (She’ll probably will, but he can have hopes). 

He looks down at her one more time before retracing his steps back home. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Come on.” Mike ushered them inside the room, closing it shut and showing El where to sit by the radio.

“Now what?” Dustin asked, almost nervously. 

“She’ll find them. Right, El?”

El nods and closes her eyes as Mike starts turning the radio on. Almost immediately she locked onto something, a muffled voice coming through. The boys, minus Lucas, perked up at this with joy.

“She’s doing it.” Dustin said, smiling. 

“She’s finding them!” Mike says, nearly jumping with joy. 

“This is crazy.”

“Calm down. She just closed her eyes.” Lucas said, and right on cue, almost a way of telling him not to underestimate her, the light above them shattered and went out.

The boys gasped and huddled closer. Then that’s when they heard something else come through other than static. There was the sound of something banging. Banging on what? They couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What is that?” Dustin asked, confused, but they continued to listen for anything else.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“COME ON! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Joyce was blasting her youngest favorite song, hoping to get some communication again. She practically begged whatever higher force there was to get her to talk to her son again.

“COME ON! WILL, STEPHANIE! I NEED ONE OF YOU–”

Then the banging came.

She immediately stops the music, listening. She slowly walks over to the wall where she saw the faceless thing last night, and puts her ear to it.

|| Mom? ||

She gasps, hands pressing against the wall like she could grab him. “Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| M-Mom? ||

The boys took a step back in shock.

They heard him. 

They actually heard him. 

“No freaking way!” Lucas said, and everyone began shouting his name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Mom... || 

“Will!” Joyce yells, her heart hurting at the sound of her baby boy crying. 

|| Please… ||

“Will! Will!” She starts banging on the wall, and clawing at the wall paper.

|| Mom!!!! ||

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” She manages to snag the corner of the paper and begins peeling it off. “Oh, God…”

|| Mom!!!! ||

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Will!” Mike shouts.

“Will, it’s us! Are you there?” Lucas says, getting closer to the radio.

“Can you hear us? We’re here!” Dustin asks, getting close too. They can hear him, even if it’s a bit distorted, so why can’t he hear them? “Will? Hello?! Will!”

|| H-Hel-lo? M-Mom? ||

“Why can’t he hear us?” Lucas asked, worriedly. 

“I don’t know!” Mike yells, scared. “Will!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Baby…” Joyce cries as the wallpaper came down, and revealed a weird color bubble on her wall. She wasn’t even going to question it when she finally saw movement behind it. 

|| Mom?! || 

“Oh, God. Will!” She could cry. “Oh, thank God. Baby… Will…”

|| Mom… || 

She could hear something growling from the other side, and could barely make out her son’s scared face. 

|| Mom, it’s coming! ||

“Tell me where you are!” Joyce said, banging on the bubble. “How do I get to you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys stared, completely afraid for their friend because he sounded like he was going to break at any moment. And that weird growling wasn’t helping the situation either. Where the heck was he?

|| I-It’s like ho-home, but it’s s-so dark… It’s so da-rk and empty. An–d-d it’s cold! A-And Step-hanie’s passed out! ||

Mike gasps and looks at Dustin. “She is with him.”

“Jesus…” The Henderson said, covering his mouth with his hand.

|| I do-n’t kn-know what t-to do! Mo-m? M-m-mom! || 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Listen to me!” Joyce said, with all the might of her voice. “I swear I’m gonna get to you, okay? But right now, I need you to hide. I need you to get Stephanie and hide!”

|| Mom, please! ||

“No, no, listen! Listen, I…” Her heart skips a beat when the growling gets louder. “I will find you both, but you have to run now! Run! Run!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Then the radio bursts up into flames, immediately setting off the fire alarms. Dustin kicked himself in high gear, running over to the extinguisher and pulling the pin. 

“El, are you okay?” Mike asked, after the fire was put out. But the young girl stared at him, and you can clearly tell she wasn’t here. “Can you move?”

“Shit! Blood, Mike!” Lucas points out, as the red liquid gushes out of her nose immensely. 

“Jeez! Help her up!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you’re…” Nancy questions as he watches him fiddle around with the machine in the room engulfed in red light.

“Brightening. Enlarging.” He explains.

“Did your mom say anything else? Like, um, where it might have gone to, or…”

“No, just that it came out of the wall.” Jonathan sighs as he finishes with the machine before carefully placing the photo into the water.

“How long does this take?”

“Not long.”

She nods, fiddling with her hand. “Have you been… doing this a while?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Photography?” She clarifies, and he shrugs.

“Yeah.” He gives her a nervous look. “I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know… Talk to them. I know. It’s weird.”

“No!” She shakes her head.

“No, it is.” He chuckles, and grins. “It’s just, sometimes… people don’t really say what they’re really thinking. But you capture the right moment… it says more.”

“What was I saying?” Nancy asked, a smile creeping up in her face.

“What?”

“When you took my picture.”

He frowns. “I shouldn’t have taken that.” He looks away. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry. It’s just–”

“That’s it.” She said, getting his attention. “That’s what I saw.”

Jonathan gasps quietly at the sight of it, a disgusting, tall figure that didn’t have a face. “My mom… I thought she was crazy ’cause she said… that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive–”

“Then Barbara.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve couldn’t believe he even had this thought, but he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of the Coroner’s office. He sat there with the engine off, rethinking everything.

“Oh my god…” His forehead touched the steering wheel. “What am I doing?” But he gets out anyway, heading inside and turning on his charm to hide his nerves. “Hello, Ma’am!”

Patty pulls the phone away from her ear. “Hey, uh, can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, my brother, I think he left something behind. I‘m sure it’s still on the seat. If you don’t mind me looking, that is.”

“Oh, well…”

“Please?” He begs, and shows her the doe eyes. Well, they worked because she told him he can go ahead. “Thank you. I’ll just be a minute.”

And now it was now or never.

Steve strolls through the hallway, spotting, to his surprise, a cop sitting on a chair by the door he needed to get in (Guess he’ll question this situation later). “Hey, I love that book.” He says, the cop springing to his feet “It’s a nasty mutt.”

“Hey, you can’t be back here.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just got off the line with uh… you know.”

“Know what?”

“You…” Smacks lips. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

And that’s when Steve decks him the side of the head, before sending another punch to the jaw that renders him unconscious. He still can’t believe what he’s doing, even after snatching the keys from the guy’s belt. He looks around worriedly as he unlocks the door to head inside. His nerves were being shot through the roof as he arrived at the freezers, and with a shaky hand he started opening the doors up, reading the name tags that were tied on the deceased’s toes.

When he found Stephanie’s he nearly vomited. And when he finally pulled back the sheet he nearly fainted.

Ever since their friendship ended the only time he’s only ever seen her was when they would pass by each other in school, and that wasn’t very often. But this…

This is different. This is sick. This is violating. 

It hurt to see how pale she was, those bright blue eyes of her closed, her brown locks brushed back from her face.

He swallows and looks away. What the fuck am I doing?

He takes a deep breath, and pulls the sheet back more, stopping before it shows off her chest. He still had the courtesy to not see her naked, not like this anyhow. It wouldn’t be right. But when he finally took the rest of her in, his heart got stuck in his throat.

The scar… on her shoulder was…

Non-existent.

That doesn’t… what? Steve knows this isn’t right. He remembers the incident so clearly, he remembers the scar they both promise to hide from their families. So if he had his still, then where was hers? Is this what was spooking the police chief? 

Now it made sense why Hopper was asking those questions to him. He must have seen Stephanie’s body without the scar and wanted to ask how long ago it was. 

Now it all made sense. 

Steve, without even realizing, had reached down to touch the spot where the scar should be. His brown orbs widened at the touch. For being a deceased body it was–

Completely dry.

Now, he might not be the most book smart person despite keeping his grades up for his parents sake, but even he remembers his science teacher explaining the stages of a dead body. Something about the body puffing up and releasing fluids. So why is it dry? And secondly, if Steph’s mother showed up for the autopsy, then where’s the incision marks?

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

.

Steve shuts his eyes again, another shaky breath as he takes out his knife from his back pocket, flicking it open. He has to know, he has to know if his doubts are real. He starts by putting the tip on her shoulder, before stopping.

But what if he’s wrong? What if this is really her? 

He groaned, every kind of emotion was coming through. What if I’m wrong and I just butchered my first friend? 

He sighs. Well…

He’s not going to know until he tries.

“Fuck.” He whispers, before digging the tip into her shoulder. Cringing at the sound of the skin breaking. He continues until he gets to the end of the collarbone, and puts the knife aside. 

It was the moment of truth as he slowly digs his hand into the cut, half expecting for his hand to touch bone or get drenched in a vein but…

Steve might as well be as pale as this corpse as soon as touched something that shouldn’t be in there. Scaredly, he pulled the substance out. 

It was cotton. Stuffing that was used in pillows or children’s toys.

He didn’t know whether to be happy he was right, or upset that he was. He still almost couldn’t believe it. 

“What the fuck?” He manages to say before he hears the door behind him open wider. Out of instinct, he grabs his knife and spins around, expecting the receptionist or even that cop he knocked out to be there, but not him.

Jim Hopper was staring back at him, out of uniform and looking surprised to see him here too (That’s probably why his gun was out). Both of them didn’t say anything, and the adult’s eyes shifted to the table behind him. Jim hustles over, Steve sidestepping quickly – I mean he’s caught red handed anyway. 

And that’s when Jim saw what Steve saw.

That’s when they both realized…

.

.

.

.

Something’s going on.

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[kirkevidere]

A Reflection on The Poppy War Trilogy by R.F. Kuang

A couple of days ago, I accomplished something I would never have imagined two years ago: I finished a complete trilogy, and not just any trilogy, but a fantasy trilogy. I have never had any sort of aversion to this genre; on the contrary, I have always enjoyed it in any type of media form. However, let’s speak the truth—reading fantasy is, in most cases, a really arduous task. The completely new worlds and their rules… etc can either draw you in or push you away.

I suffered a strong reading block for some years, and for that reason, it never crossed my mind to pick up a book of this kind. However, like magic released after being buried and contained for too long, my love for reading also broke free and returned to its old ways. But fantasy books were still waiting on the shelf.

Eventually, I picked up The Poppy War after only hearing good things about it, and now I have just finished reading the whole series. Nevertheless, I remain doubtful to call it formally a fantasy other than to congratulate myself on finally reading something within this genre. 

The Girl Made of Time’s Flames

Is The Poppy War an enjoyable read? Not exactly, but not in the way someone who has first heard of it on here thinks. The book is as well-written as painful, exhausting and overwhelming at times. Debuting Kuang’s prose is brilliant and you get hooked to Rin’s story from the very first page. 

As a trilogy, one could say that it is a study of power, war (in its most realistic sense) and the cycle of destruction that has shaped history. Kuang tries to mislead the reader in the first stand of the series with a familiar fantasy structure of an underdog making her way into an elite institution, learning new skills and facing adversities. Nevertheless, it doesn’t take long before that foundation crumbles and What follows is a relentless descent into war, violence, and the moral decay of its characters, persisting until the final pages of the third book. That said, we as readers see the main character Rin’s arc across the three books as a transformation into something disturbing, a personification of the past present and future tragedy itself.

Rin’s journey (and Kitay and Nezha’s) is a parallel story itself. It has happened since the very origin of the nation, Nikan, during the most catastrophic periods with the Trifecta and it is now happening to them and they had no choice but to accept what is in store for them. The sad and painful part is that they think they might change it, avoid it even and break it, what they don't know is that it is a cycle and cycles are meant to be repeated. Call it vicious, call it cruel or call Rebecca Kuang to tell her: “damn girl you write this in your early 20s?”.

After this, she would probably respond to you that she is not interested in writing a classic hero’s journey, but in history, the real world’s history, or at least that’s who I interpreted: while gods and shamanism are key parts, they are not tools that solve everything at the end, they just stay in the margins of the series of events. In other words, It is a story that borrows the aesthetics of fantasy but strips away its escapist qualities, leaving behind something much closer to historical grimdark fiction, which I prefer to label as rather than fantasy. It doesn’t offer the comfort of most fantasy novels; instead, it forces you to sit with the weight of history, witness the worst of humanity, and acknowledge that there are no easy answers or safe options in war. (If you are reading this after reading the series, you already might noticed that I absolutely LOVE the last chapters).

I have a thousand things to say about this trilogy that I haven't found the words to say, or haven't quite swallowed yet. I also have criticisms, but given what the most popular books are at the moment, I'd rather not say anything yet and just keep saying good things about it to encourage at least one person to start reading it. Good things make me want to read it and even I was doubtful that I would even finish the first book, but here I am writing on how much I loved it. 

Because if cycles cannot be broken, at least I can let this one continue.