#and the sound of four wheelers speeding down the street while people call out a 'good morning'

[dearestgojo]

the motherland is calling me back. pulling me towards her. she wants me to go home.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 2065

Part 2

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl

Despite your super soldier enhancements, it takes a few days before you’re cleared from the medical bay. The bullets you had been shot with were identified as hollow point sniper rounds—basically the biggest, baddest of the bunch. If you had been a normal human, your insides would’ve been shredded to pieces and you would’ve died before you even hit the ground.

You’re retired to light duty while you recover, which is painfully boring and dull. You attend physical therapy to strengthen your body, but sometimes you push yourself too hard and stumble back to your and Natasha’s room with blood staining through your bandages. She always chastises you for hurting yourself, but secretly admires your dedication and will never pass up the opportunity to help take care of you.

One week after the condominium collapse, you join Steve, Clint, and Natasha for a private meeting with members of the Miami Police Department and the FBI. As Steve had suspected, the collapse wasn’t an accident. Someone had deliberately taken out the concrete supports in the parking garage with explosives.

“We couldn’t have just phoned that in?” you whine from the backseat. Clint is in the driver’s seat, Steve next to him. You and Natasha sit in the back. “I mean, they drag us all the way across the city, just to tell us something they could’ve sent over text—” 

“Information like that, the less people to intercept the message, the better,” Steve mutters, staring out the window as the car zooms down the highway.

“I don’t know about that,” you dismiss, and Natasha side-eyes you. She knows you’re just cranky because Steve interrupted your morning cuddle with her. There isn’t much you can do intimately when you can barely twist your torso, so you have to make due with what you can.

“You know, Y/N, you are the one this guy’s after,” Clint points out. “So, if anything, you’re the only one that needed to show up.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a psychopath coming after you—” 

THUD.

Everyone’s head turns to the roof of the car. You swear you see the imprint of a hand dented in the metal.

“What the—”

Natasha suddenly leaps out of her seat and into your lap. She wraps her arms around your neck, yanking your head down.

“Hey!” you shout in protest, but then you hear a bullet whiz behind your head and feel the foam of the headrest cushion spray the back of your neck. Still in your lap, Natasha kicks Steve’s shoulder, causing him to hit his head against the window before a bullet zings through his headrest. Following her example, you kick Clint’s seat and he jolts forward, the bullet missing his head by inches.

“Stop the car!” Steve yells, crunching the gear shift into park.

The tires burn rubber and the car slides back and forth before coming to a grinding halt. Cars behind you honk and swerve around you. A figure goes flying off the roof of the car and lands in the road, rolling to their feet. They wear a black vest, revealing their left arm to be completely made out of metal overlapping plates. Their hair is chin-length and a mask covers the lower half of their face.

Suddenly, an 18-wheeler semi-truck, unable to stop in time, slams into the back of the car. The trunk crumples like an accordion, and you instinctively tighten your grip around Natasha to shield her in case the semi-truck tears the car in half. But it doesn’t, instead pushing your car towards the masked figure, who doesn’t even bother to step out of your path.

They jump onto the hood and punch their metal arm through the windshield, grabbing the steering wheel and tearing it right out of the car. When the masked figure disappears onto the roof, Natasha takes out her gun and starts shooting, but her efforts are fruitless.

There’s no way for Clint to control the direction of the car anymore and it’s too dangerous to stay inside with the masked figure close by.

“Hang on!” Steve says, reaching across the front to grab Clint. In the same motion, he slams his shoulder into his door, knocking it off its hinges. Both men go flying out of the car.

“That looks like a good idea,” you mumble, anchoring your arm to your own car door, the other pressing Natasha against you as tightly as you can. “Hold on, babe.” You ram your shoulder into the door with all your strength, ignoring the pain that rips through your stomach.

The door tears away from the car and turns into a makeshift sled as you go skidding down the highway. Sparks fly from the grinding contact of metal on the concrete road. When you finally come to a stop, Natasha stays on top of you, drawing her weapon and scanning for the masked figure. 

Meanwhile, the masked figure has hijacked the semi-truck, but instead of plowing you over, they turn to tip the entire vehicle over so it blocks every single lane of the highway.

“Where are they?” you pant, trying to lift your head to see the commotion but Natasha forces your head back into the car door. “Nat, stop—” 

“No!” she says. “They’re after you, remember?”

You don’t like the idea of her risking herself for you, but it’s a sweet gesture.

“Where are they?” you ask, unable to see.

“I…I don’t…” Natasha sounds confused. Suddenly, she takes off without warning. You don’t question it and run after her. Steve and Clint are engaged in an intense hand-to-hand match with the masked figure. The masked figure knocks Steve to the ground and wraps their metal hand around Clint’s neck, lifting him off the ground.

You put on a burst of speed, overtaking Natasha and launching yourself at the masked figure’s metal arm. They drop Clint instantly and you wrap your arms around the metal one, but it’s like trying to contain a bucking bull. You jerk your elbow back into their face to stun them, but it has no effect. The masked figure flings out their metal arm and you lose your grip.

You crash into the concrete highway dividers and the impact almost knocks you out. You feel your stitches tear open and you start bleeding underneath your shirt. As you stagger to your feet, you see the masked figure over Natasha, pinning her down and pulling their metal arm back, ready to deal the killing blow—

“No!” you scream, charging towards them. You catch the masked figure’s metal arm again, locking out their elbow and holding it against your chest. Natasha rolls out of harm’s way and Clint jumps into the action, launching himself at the masked figure’s legs and sending all three of you to the ground.

Natasha swings her leg around and kicks the masked figure in the face. The mask falls off. You and Clint struggle to hold them down as Steve walks up, blood dripping from a cut in his forehead.

“Bucky?” Steve says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man snarls.

“Help!” you choke, not sure how much longer you can hold on to his writhing metal arm. But Steve is frozen the same way Natasha had been when she saw you get shot. “You need to get in here, Steve!” you yell, and suddenly Bucky goes limp. You and Clint exchange confused glances.

“Wait, what?” Clint says.

“What happened?” you ask, hesitantly releasing the metal arm, which flops to the ground. “Why’d he just stop like that? Did I say his safe word or something?”

“What, ‘Steve?’” Clint laughs in spite of the tense situation.

“Apparently.”

Steve is in too much shock to bite back at your jibe.

“I’ll call for reinforcements.” Natasha takes charge. “We’ll bring him back to the Tower.” She comes over to you and touches your side gently, reminding you of the blood staining through your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, reaching out to run your thumb over the bruise forming under her eye. She closes her eyes and leans into your touch. “Let’s hope that Steve is, too.”

***********************************************************************

Bucky is detained in the holding cell at the Tower and Steve goes to speak with him privately. Afterwards, he regroups with the rest of you. Clint relaxes at the kitchen counter with a beer, while you and Natasha sit on the couch together. She holds an ice pack against your stomach and frets over the fresh swelling in your shoulder.

“So, I’ve got some good and bad news,” Steve says.

“You can start by telling us who that guy is,” Clint interrupts.

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “He’s…an old friend of mine. My best friend, actually—”

“You know, that’s the same thing people thought about me and Nat at first, but obviously we’re more than that—” you start.

“Bucky was also involved in the super soldier program,” Steve continues, ignoring your comment. “But he was under HYDRA’s control for decades. They were the ones who sent him after us. And…” Steve takes a breath, “We were wrong about who his target was. He wasn’t after you, Y/N. He was after me.”

“But he shot Y/N,” Natasha says.

“Twice,” you add.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Bucky was trying to shoot me. Y/N was just in the way.”

“In the way?” Steve’s logic—or lack of it—makes your head hurt. But as Natasha thinks about it—she’s always been the smarter one in the relationship—it makes complete sense. Her mind flashbacks to the scene of the condominium collapse, where all four of you had gathered on the street after you rescued the last victim. Her and Steve stood across from you and Clint. The bullets had come from behind you—if you hadn’t been standing where you were, Steve would have been hit instead.

“I don’t think you would remember this part, Y/N, but when Nat and I were trying to get you in the ambulance, we were shot at two more times,” Steve explained. “But the bullets hit the sideview mirror and the windshield. Those were places I was in, not you.”

“Okay, so why’s he trying to kill you if you’re his best friend?” you ask.

“It’s all HYDRA’s doing. He told me he’s part of a task force that was created to kill off the Avengers. Specifically, the original six, so there’s six of them in the task force. He’s the only one that got out, and he said the other five are being held in a facility in Siberia. He wants our help to free them,” Steve says.

“So, this Bucky guy wants to work with us now? After he took down a 12-story condominium and almost killed Y/N while trying to kill you?” Clint asks.

“Please, Clint,” Steve begs. “Bucky’s my best friend—”

“A best friend who tried to kill Y/N! And you!” Natasha argues. She lowers the ice pack from your stomach and you frown at the loss of contact. “You know I love you, Steve—”

“Not as much as me,” you mutter under your breath, guiding her hand to put the ice pack back against your side.

“—But I’m gonna need you to do a little better than that.”

“I need you all to trust me,” Steve pleads. “If we have intel telling us that there are five super soldiers in existence, who are programmed to take down the Avengers, isn’t it on us to do something about it?”

“How do we know we can trust Bucky?” Clint asks.

“Well, if he does go rogue, at least we know his safe word,” you answer with a chuckle.

“If you trust me, you’ll trust him,” Steve promises.

You glance at Natasha, who is looking at the floor, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stretch your arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards you and bumping your heads together.

“What should we do?” you whisper so quietly only she can hear.

Her free arm snakes around your waist, closing the gap between you and her, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. She rests her head against your shoulder. “Trust Steve,” she says.

“Okay.” That’s enough of an answer for you. You press a soft kiss to her temple and look back at Steve. “So, what did you have in mind?”

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

Click here for Part 4!

AN: I love taking inspiration from many places, and the inspiration for this part is the awesome fight on the highway from Captain America: Winter Soldier. Thank you to everyone for the continued support!

[reversemoon255]

(This is the second of a three-part series chronicling the story, concepts, and original Pokémon that appeared in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I worked on for several months. This entry will be more focused on a lot of my original designs and how their encounters would play out, rather than concrete story. Also, much of the art was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter, and I suggest you check them out.)

Dungeons ‘n’ Dragonites - Phase 2: Ultra City

The Queen Durant would prove to be a difficult foe, able to use all manner of elemental attacks to strike from a distance to compensate for her low speed. Furthermore, she would have full command of the Duranthill, using her followers to guard herself. As the battle rages, the team slowly begin to evolve, and their newfound strength and Types, along with the aid of the Princess, would have them see victory.

I was unsure as to the ultimate fate of the Queen. Either having it disappear into the tunnels alone, or be sucked into another Ultra Wormhole like the Poipole. And with the Queen vanquished, the Princess would choose to become partner to whoever she felt most worthy (a combination of good role playing and damage dealt).

I designed every Pokémon in this campaign under the pretense that it could actually exist. The Queen and Princess fall under the category of “Rare Variants.” There’s only one queen in a colony of thousands of ants, so it makes sense for it to be rarely seen. They’re still Bug/Steel, but special attackers, with the three spheres on each of their abdomens made to mimic the pattern of Tri-Attack, symbolizing their ability to use those Types.

As for the Starter evos, Flymph has evolved into Epipesis, gained the Electric-Type, and become a full Dragonfly. Calfyre into Steared, staying mono-Fire, but growing considerably (4 feet at the shoulder, the largest mid-stage Starter). Squisque into Knaval who’s now Rock, because he’s a rock lobster! And Utaw into Uteteo who may still be pure Fairy, but has gained some gold adornments.

=====

My working title for this campaign was “Ultra City.” Hinted at by the appearance of the Poipole early in the game, my intentions would come into full swing during this portion, with boss encounters against many of the known and some unknown Ultra Beasts. I had a few encounters planned, from a pickpocket Pheramosa that they’d fight in a mall store room full of mannequins, to a Blacephalon that had kidnapped several children, hypnotized them, and had them watching his performances, to a beach episode where there’s just a Buzzwole hanging out and not causing trouble.

Things would take a twist when a Guzzlord would take over the abandoned district, raining destruction down from its highest building. The crew would have to climb a multi-floor dungeon in order to battle it, many scared and aggravated Pokémon blocking their paths. After reaching the top however, after initiative had been rolled, a mysterious Pokémon would descend from the sky, felling Guzzlord in a single strike...

Majra, the Dragoon Pokémon (a slurred portmanteau of Magic and Dragon). A Dragon hunter with a unique ability, “Hunter of Evil,” that removes all its resistances but makes it immune to Dragon, Dark, and Ghost. This Pokémon came about as I was trying to create a dramatic encounter that would interrupt an expected one. As I was thumbing through DnD and fantasy ideas, the idea of a Dragoon who furiously hunts Dragon-Types came to mind. Ice/Fairy seemed the perfect combination, and the sentient suit of ice armor fell into place soon after. As Pokémon don’t typically hold weapons, I made him part scorpion, having him hold his tail as a workaround, and also informed how his extremities would look. The Haxorus skull buckler also helped drive the Dragon hunter aspect home.

Ultra Beasts were the second category of original Pokémon in my campaign, and encompass all purely original Pokémon (including the Starters). However, I didn’t want to just haphazardly make a ton (as commissions cost money), so I gave myself the condition that if I made an Ultra Beast it had to play with weaknesses and resistances in a way to trip up experienced players, hence Majra’s ability.

Majra would not attack our players in their first encounter, unless someone was using a Type he hunts. He would be a reoccurring boss character, helping or hindering the players depending on their enemies or allies.

The next unique encounter would have been a tutorial battle against another Rare Variant, a Shiinotic possessed Parasect. Every boss encounter is technically 4-on-1, so I wanted to give a Pokémon a reason to have multiple turns, and fused or symbiotic Pokémon felt like a naturally occurring way to have that happen. I created this Shiinotic as a way to teach the players how these Pokémon work.

As Shiinotic is a bio-luminescent mushroom, I wanted to have Parasect faded in color from its light. I also thought it’d be a nice touch to have Shiinotic’s spindly fingers act as puppet strings to move Parasect’s arms around. It would have been encountered after a swarm of scared Paras started flooding out of the sewers near everyone’s school.

Then would be Fortifiend, who would be encountered a few times as an easily circumventable castle wall in the middle of the street before Majra would eventually attack it, forcing our players to take a side in the battle (with Fortifiend possibly joining them if they help it). His ability would make all attacks not very effective while it had over 50% HP, and the opposite when under 50%. Despite the name, I pictured him being very nice, and giggle whenever he heard someone compliment his stone structure.

I imagined that the world he came from had naturally occurring stone structures similar to him, and his folded castle form was a sort of net to help him catch large prey; partly why he doesn’t attack the smaller people and Pokémon of the game’s dimension (he’s around 30ft tall). He could be encountered anywhere, so he wasn’t a full quest; just a fun “what the heck is this” moment to confuse players.

Also, while it wasn’t purposeful, Fortifiend and Majra both also matched the DnD aesthetic. That definitely helped them stand out as some of my favorites, and Fortifiend barely missed the final pass for the last round of commissions.

Then was the twin encounter of Feyerre, a Fire-Type igloo and snowmobile Pokémon, and Eyescse, an Ice-Type pyramid and four-wheeler Pokémon (probably the most Ultra Beast-esque concepts I came up with). They would be messing with the weather across the city, causing disturbances until the players eventually found one of them, in when the other would appear. Their ability would flip their weaknesses and resistances, and they would have an attack that could do the same to a target. And fun fact: there’s meaning to the color and number of their eyes! Feyerre’s are F.I.R.E (Fire=Red, Ice=L.Blue, Rock=Brown, Electric=Yellow), and Eyescse’s are I.C.E (Ice=L.Blue, Sea=D.Blue, Electric=Yellow).

But their defeat would incur the wrath of a mysterious Pokémon they had encountered a few times:

“As you turn around, you see a grey Charizard standing there. It stares at you for a moment, wide-eyed and unblinking. Then it begins to open its mouth, wide, wider, and wider still, stretching beyond what should be possible. Then a hand reaches out of it...

“Suddenly you’re falling. The lights and sounds of countless unknown worlds whir past you incomprehensibly as you plummet through time and space. You try to close your eyes to shut out the flurry of stimuli, but it’s impossible to drown out as your minds begin to feel the strain of the void. Then, after what feels like hours, time seems to stand still as the heavy rain of an unknown world hits your face. For a brief moment you are able to take in the desert that surrounds you before a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, revealing a titanic silhouette looming above you before you are once again thrown into darkness. And as you come to outside the warehouse (where you encountered Feyerre and Eyescse), in the distance, you hear what sounds like laughing.

“Fofofofofo...”

The final original encounter I had planned for Stage 2 was Meadew. It would have been wandering the city, spawning grasses and flowers wherever it went. However, while beautiful, the sudden growth would be causing havoc and destruction to all the buildings and vehicles it could root into.

Unlike the other Ultra Beasts, Meadew’s ability didn’t affect its weaknesses, but instead created Substitutes since I wanted a way for it to form its own adds (the concept behind its inception). However, it wasn’t without a Type gimmick; rather than an ability it has a signature status move called “Radiance” that raises its attack and special, as well as give it the Fire-Type, making it Grass/Water/Fire (the 3 Starter Types). It would invoke this after its adds were defeated, but could be talked down through diplomacy, unlike some of the other encounters.

=====

I’ve mentioned Rare Variants and Ultra Beasts, but there was a third Type of original Pokémon that could appear: Mutant Evolutions. Essentially, evolutions like Probopass or Leafeon where being in an energy charged area or coming into contact with a huge ore deposit (what I interpreted the Mossy and Icy Rocks as, since they became Leaf and Ice Stones in later Gens) could force an unusual evolution in a Pokémon already shown to be susceptible to unique evolutionary conditions. Due to a future encounter, I already knew there would be large Metal Coat and Ice Stone Ore deposits in the mountains to the north, so I wanted to do some test prototyping using each of those items, whether I used those evolutions or not.

Poliwhirl is already shown to be capable of multiple evolutions, all of which use items, so I thought having it come into contact with a massive amount of Ice Stone Ore (since it should be chemically similar to Water Stones) could force a Mutant Evolution. This is Policuti, from the Latin Cutis meaning skin, and Poli-Cutis would mean “multiple skins,” as it wears the shed skin of preevolution. And being freshly shed is why its skin lacks pigment. It’s just a cute little frog in a raincoat! Also, the swirl on its jaw is actually its tongue.

Since Magneton evolves into Magnezone through being electrically charged, I thought about how it might evolve if charged with Steel energy. I imagined it being magnetically attracted to the Metal Coat Ore, fiercely trying to pull itself away, being stretched and elongated in the process, resulting in the bullet train Pokémon Magneline. The Mutant Evolutions weren’t supposed to be anything important to the story or that they’d run into in the wild. They were more so surprises to excite the players who would be expecting something, well, expected. I had considered doing at least one for each player if they caught a compatible Pokémon, but as no teams were filled out, I was merely left with my prototypes. The only reason I had these two commissioned was because I was very happy with their designs.

=====

As we reach the end of Stage 2, the reoccurring group of rowdy Onix would return once more. Following them deep into their tunnels, our heroes would come across a massive chamber with a giant metal stalagmite and frozen stalactite in the center of it. The Onix would then appear, twisting around them, forcing their evolutions. One into Steelix, and the other into Glacix...

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Five

summary: School turns out to be a special torture all its own after a tough weekend. word count: 5.1k warnings: n/a [ masterlist ]   [ FF.net ]

“You look better today.” 

Dustin was waiting in the driveway when Christine came out the next morning. She stuck her tongue out at him as she collected her own bike, which made him grin. 

“Mom made you lunch,” he added, offering her a brown paper bag. “Just in case your power went out last night.” 

“Power? You guys too?” 

“Yup. Killed everything in the fridge. Which sucks but means we get to have fluffernutters.” 

“Sick.” Christine took the bag, stowing it away in her backpack. “My fridge is still going, but I don’t say no to a fluffernutter.” 

“Man, brown outs are so lame,” Dustin complained. “Blackouts are fun. That shit’s exciting. Not being able to do some things is just dumb.” 

“Language, Dustin.” 

They set off together down the street. Dustin always pedaled faster than Christine, and had to loop around at every stop sign waiting for her to catch up. He’d tease her about being a slowpoke from time to time, but it was something they were both used to. They didn’t bike to school together every day, but the ride was nicer with company. 

“Did you talk to Nancy?” asked Dustin, pulling up beside Christine. 

“Nope. Did you talk to Nancy?” 

“Nope. I told you I wasn’t gonna say anything. You might think bards are all show and charisma, but my word means something. Besides, she was being a real jerk yesterday. I offered her the last slice of pizza and she just slammed the door in my face.” 

“Don’t take it too hard,” said Christine. “It’s me she’s mad at, not you.” 

“Why is she mad at you? She’s the one who kissed the guy. You should be mad at her.” 

“No, I shouldn’t. She’s my friend, and I love her, so I should be happy for her.” 

“But you liked him first, didn’t you?” 

“That’s not how it works, Dust,” she sighed. “You can’t call dibs on people. They make their own choices.” 

“Yeah, but I thought your friends are always supposed to come first.” 

It took her a minute to come up with a response to that one. Christine pushed down the remnants of her rage, and steeled her resolve. 

“They are. Which is why I’m not mad at her.” 

“You’re not?” Dustin asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Nope.” 

“Not even a little bit?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

“So if you biked up to the high school right now, and Nancy and Steve were sucking face in the parking lot…” 

“Oh my God, shut up, Dustin.” 

She flipped him off, and Dustin raised a warning finger. “Hey, watch your language! Your—Your hand…language. Shit.” 

Christine smirked at his fumble, and took the opportunity to change the subject. 

“Hey, Mike said the new ham shack should be in soon. He wouldn’t say if I was allowed to see it. You gonna put in a good word for me?” 

“Oh shit! That’s like today! Yes! Oh, hell yes!” 

Dustin spent the rest of the ride gushing about the new radio, all the features it was supposed to have, how much it cost. Christine listened intently, trying to focus on his rambling instead of the trouble waiting for her on the horizon. 

They split ways on the main road—Dustin going to meet up with his friends while Christine turned toward the high school. It was annoying having to weave through all the speeding cars of the upperclassmen, and she got honked at more than once for cutting someone off. Almost no one rode their bikes to school anymore. On the bright side, that meant she never had to fight someone for a spot. There was always space at the bike rack.

Christine kept her head down as she walked to her locker. No one looked her way, and there were no waves of whispers floating around her. She allowed herself to relax just slightly. Part of her had worried that after the scene she’d caused with Tommy, the halls would be echoing with the words “psycho bitch.” But to everyone else, it just seemed like another teenage party. People drank, people hooked up, people cried—and the world kept spinning on. 

She dropped her bag in her locker, and out of habit headed down the hall toward Nancy’s. She stopped short when she realized what she was doing. She hadn’t thought at all about what she wanted to say. What if Nancy flipped on her for bailing on the party? What if she really was with Steve, sucking face in the hallway like Dustin had said? 

Christine gripped her books tighter, and forced herself forward. She couldn’t avoid Nancy forever. It was better to get it over with and just move on with her day. 

Nancy was already at her locker, but thankfully, Steve was nowhere in sight. Instead she was talking to Barb, who was smirking at something Nancy had said. Nancy laughed, but stopped abruptly when she spotted Christine. She had to rush to cover her shock with a smile. 

“Morning,” Christine said, casually as she could muster. “What are we laughing at?” 

“Oh, nothing!” Nancy’s words were rushed, and Christine didn’t miss the side glance she shot to Barb. “Uh, hey! How are you feeling?” 

“Better. I was…pretty wrecked yesterday. Hungover, I mean. That punch was stupid strong.” 

“Right. No, yeah, I figured that was what happened.” 

“I’m sorry I bailed. I was just like…puking and nauseous and…” 

“No, it’s totally fine! I—I caught a ride home so…it’s cool.” 

They nodded at each other in silence. Nancy averted her eyes to the books in her arms, and Christine inspected a ripped sticker on a locker two doors down. But Barb caught her eye, giving her a painfully pointed look, and Christine struggled to bite down her sigh. 

“So. You and Steve. Congrats.” 

Nancy’s head shot up like a bottle rocket, her eyes wide. “No, no! It wasn’t like that. I don’t know how much you heard or—or what you saw, but it wasn’t like that. Really.” 

“Nancy, it’s fine.” 

“I mean, he kissed me, yes. And it was great. But it’s like you said, right? It’s not exactly a marriage proposal.” 

“Nancy,” Christine said firmly. “It’s fine. I’m really happy for you.” 

She wasn’t sure if the words sounded convincing. They certainly didn’t seem so to her. But Nancy’s shoulders sagged in relief, and Barb nodded approvingly. 

“I was just telling Nancy that she better not be too cool to hang out with us anymore. If she becomes friends with Tommy H or Carol, I swear…” 

“Oh, that’s gross,” Nancy scoffed, turning back to her locker. “Okay, I’m telling you it was a one-time…two-time thing.” 

Barb raised her eyebrows, and Christine laughed politely. It wasn’t as hard as she’d expected. Nancy might be lying through her teeth about the whole ordeal, but as long as she did, the venomous shred of hope in Christine’s chest still had a tiny spark. There was plausible deniability. Until, of course, Nancy opened her locker. 

A small rip of paper fell onto Nancy’s books, which she unfolded without a second thought. The big blue words would have been impossible to hide even if she’d tried to. 

Meet me. Bathroom. –Steve 

Christine’s tiny spark spluttered out. 

“You were saying?” Barb asked slyly, and Nancy flushed scarlet. 

“I—I should probably go. I might have left something in his car, or maybe he wants to…” 

“To ravage you before class,” Barb finished, waving a hand. “Go, Nance. We’ll see you in homeroom.” 

Nancy gave a nervous look to Christine, who luckily still had the polite smile stuck on her face. 

“Yeah, go. We’ll catch you later.” 

Nancy nodded, quickly collecting her books from her locker. Then she darted down the hallway toward the nearest bathroom, her excitement already beginning to burst through her face. 

“Well, that was painful,” said Barb, once she’d disappeared. “But nice job.” 

“Hey, I’m trying, okay?” Christine huffed as they headed in the opposite direction. “I know I should be supportive. I’m just still…” 

“Heartbroken?” 

“Bummed,” she corrected flatly. 

“Well, it definitely could have been worse,” said Barb. She bumped Christine with her shoulder, gently knocking the shorter girl off track. “I just wish you two had done it over the phone so I didn’t have to witness it.” 

“I tried calling her, seriously. But after I called you, the connection just went completely out of whack. All I could get was static.” 

“Yeah, me too. My parents had the news on this morning? Apparently it was county-wide. Some people still don’t have power.” 

“Seriously?” Christine furrowed her brow, thinking back to her bedside lamp, Dustin’s fridge. “Power lines down or something?” 

“Well that’s the thing,” said Barb. “They’ve got no idea what caused it. Scientific anomaly.” 

“Great. That’s real comforting.” 

“For sure. Especially when my dad starting going on about the Russians.” 

They were two of the first to arrive for homeroom, and took seats in the back so they could gossip in low voices. Barb forced Christine to recount everything that had happened on Saturday, from Steve’s clever convincing at the movie theater to the disastrous party itself. It didn’t seem so bad now that she was twenty-four hours removed. It actually felt nice to get it all out. And as much as Barb had teased and egged on Nancy in the morning, she still offered a sympathetic ear to Christine’s complaining. 

For this, Christine was eternally grateful. She didn’t want to stick Barb in the middle of some stupid, petty fight. It wouldn’t be fair to her, not after all the times she’d put up with their daydreaming and giggling. At the same time, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Especially when the final bell rang fifteen minutes later, and Nancy still had not joined them in class. 

“Alright, everyone settle down,” their instructor, Ms. Snider, called. “Faster we get through this, the faster you can get back to your lives. Gina Atwood?” 

“Here!” 

“Ana Bently?” 

“Here.” 

“Jonathan Byers? Jonathan? No? Alright. Warren Chadwick?” 

“Here!” 

They combed farther and farther down the list, and Christine’s eyes stayed glued to the door. She was one minute late, two minutes, three… 

“Christine Walcott? Christine?” 

Barb had to kick her under the desk, and Christine jolted upright. “Uh, here! Sorry.” 

“Thank you, Miss Walcott. And Nancy Wheeler? Nancy?” 

Christine looked at the door, but it remained firmly closed. 

“Alright, then,” said Ms. Snider, clapping the front of the podium. “Announcements. Hawkins Elementary is still looking for volunteers to help in their annual field day. If you’re interested in that, make sure you stop by the front office to look at the sign-up sheet. If you’re not interested in that, may I remind you that it does count as extra credit toward physical education. So those few of you who are so keen on skipping gym might want to think twice. The honor society is also hosting…” 

A loud creak interrupted as the classroom door inched open. Nancy squeezed inside, then froze when she noticed that every single person in the room was looking at her. A few students giggled, but Snider didn’t bother quieting them. 

“Miss Wheeler. Thank you for joining us. If you’ll find a seat, so we can continue.” 

Nancy’s flustered blush was visible from the other side of the classroom. Her tousled hair was a bit subtler, as were her swollen lips. But to Christine they stuck out like stains on a white carpet. She gripped her pencil a bit tighter, grinding the graphite into a fine powder against her desk. 

After homeroom, Christine decided to change her strategy. She couldn’t avoid Nancy forever, but she could damn well avoid her for now. She hurried out of every class they had together, and used her queasy stomach as an excuse to duck into bathrooms wherever possible. She knew Nancy was suspicious, but there was little that could be done about that. Avoiding her was better than completely losing it in the middle of the hallway, wasn’t it? In the end, it would all be for the best. 

Christine could avoid Nancy to the best of her ability. But there were some things she just couldn’t run from. 

Steve slid into his seat just as the bell rang, his physics textbook in hand. Christine watched him out of the corner of her eye, but did not raise her head. The plan was to deny him the satisfaction of her attention. He had Nancy for that now, and Christine was putting her foot down. 

“Okay, people,” called Mr. Austin, propping his feet up on his desk. “First thing’s first, place your lab reports in the hand-in bin, and then back to your seats to read the intro to chapter eight. Lecture starts in ten.” 

“Reports?” Steve echoed. “We have…? Shit. Christine, did you…?” 

She wordlessly slid the paper over him, focusing intently on her textbook. 

“Oh, thank Christ. You’re a freaking angel.” 

She only listened as he scribbled his name next to hers on the paper, and hurried up to the front of the class to hand it in. She would not look up from her work. She would not, she would not, she would not… 

Steve collapsed back into his chair, peeking over at her book to check the page number. It even seemed like he was able to read a couple sentences before he got distracted. He ran a hand through his hair, and traced a few lines of the first paragraph. She watched his hand drift to the edge of the book, where his thumb stroked down the corner a few times. Then he reached over and tapped Christine’s page. 

“Hey,” he said softly, ducking his head to avoid the teacher’s gaze. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine.” 

“Oh, good. Tommy said you ran out of the party on Saturday. I thought you might’ve been sick.” 

“Nope.” 

Steve’s hand flinched in the corner of her vision, but Christine ignored it. She wasn’t even reading the chapter at this point, just glaring down at the fine print. She was not going to look at him. She wasn’t going to do it. 

“Hey, did your power go out last night?” he tried. “My dad was yelling about the TV for like an hour. It was nuts.” 

“Yeah, wild.” 

She winced. She knew she was being short. But he deserved it, right? After everything he’d done, she shouldn’t care if his feelings were hurt. She should probably celebrate. Serve him right for… 

Steve reached over before she was prepared, brushing the back of her hand. It was just one finger, barely ghosting over her skin, but her body reacted like it was a thousand-volt shock. She looked up instantly, meeting his gaze. 

“Chrissy, you sure you’re okay?” 

He looked concerned, truly and honestly. And God, did she want to believe that he was. But he’d given her looks like that before. It hadn’t meant a damn thing. 

“I’m fine, Steve.” Her voice was feebler than she’d intended, which was infuriating. She snatched her hand away from him. “Seriously. Now look at your book and read the chapter before Austin gives you detention again and I have to write your notes on this too.” 

Steve gaped at her, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wow. Bossy.” 

Christine rolled her eyes and went back to her book, prompting Steve to let out a low whistle. That, unfortunately, caught the attention of Mr. Austin. 

“Harrington, do I need to come back there and hold your hand through the reading?” 

“No, sir,” Steve replied, giving him a thumbs up. “Just read something super interesting. Sorry, sir.” 

Laughter rippled across the classroom, but Austin let him off the hook. 

Steve left her alone after that, for the most part anyway. Occasionally, Christine could feel his eyes lingering on her. On any other day, it would have been thrilling. Today all she wanted to do was burrow into the floor and disappear forever. 

As soon as the bell rang, she was out of her seat. She swiped her books into her arms all at once, grabbed her backpack, and rushed out of the door as fast as she could. It was easier to breathe in the hallway, away from the lingering smell of expensive cologne and hairspray, but only until she heard the footsteps rushing up behind her. 

“Hey, Christine, wait up!” 

She did not want to wait up. If it wouldn’t have caused a scene, she would have sprinted down the hallway like a track star. But she didn’t need that kind of attention. So she slowed down her pace to a normal walk and waited for Steve to catch up to her. 

“Damn, you’re in a hurry,” he laughed. It faltered a bit when she didn’t join in, but it didn’t stop him from continuing. “You heading to lunch?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, cool. I just wanted to know if you guys wanted to join us.” 

“…What?” 

“You know, me, Tommy, Carol, a couple other people. I figured you could eat with us. You, Nancy, and uh…that other chick you’re always hanging around with.” 

“I can’t,” Christine said instantly. 

Steve stared at her. “You…can’t?” 

“Yeah, um…my fridge died last night cause of the blackout. Brown out. Whatever.” 

“O-kay? So what, you’re buying?” 

“No, uh…my neighbor packed lunch for me. She’s super sweet, and wanted to make sure I had something, but I have to go pick it up from her son at the middle school, so…yeah. I gotta go. Thanks, though.” 

He was still squinting at her, and she had run out of things to say. Without any real choice, Christine turned on her heel and fled down the hallway, cursing under her breath as she walked right out the door and into the parking lot. She didn’t dare stop. She walked all the way around the building and back into the school through a different entrance. Then she headed for her locker, where the lunch from Mrs. Henderson was safely tucked away. 

She twisted the paper bag in her hands, deliberating. Then she slammed her locker shut and walked in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. 

She didn’t really have a plan laid out. The only objective was staying as far away from her problems as she physically could. 

She wound up by the gymnasium. Satisfied that no one would come looking for her here, she sank to the ground, leaning her back against the giant tiger mural splayed across the wall. She fished her Walkman out of her backpack and slipped on her headphones. The smooth vocals of “Careless Talk” by Billy Joel filled her ears, and she cranked up the volume. On the highest setting, she could almost drown out the sounds of the basketball game going on inside. 

Christine opened her lunch bag, smiling morosely at the squished fluffernutter. She’d have to thank Claudia for thinking of her. There was no telling what kind of emotional trauma she’d prevented by giving Christine an out. 

The rest of the day stretched on, a war on Christine’s nerves. She’d had to bullshit her way through a conversation with a very concerned Nancy after lunch, explaining that Steve must’ve misunderstood what she’d told him. Her fridge hadn’t died. Dustin’s had, and she had to bring him his lunch because he left early for school. It was a much better lie than her previous one, but Nancy still didn’t believe her. That wasn’t a surprise, but things were still too awkward to push the issue. 

In fact, almost all the conversations she had with Nancy were turning out to be painful. They were either over complimentary to each other, or so short they were barely talking at all. It hurt, and Barb was clearly growing exasperated with both of them. At the same time, Christine found it comforting that Nancy didn’t know how to handle the situation either. 

It was a relief when the final bell rang at the end of the day. Christine collected her things and escaped out a side door, taking the long way to the bike rack so she could avoid any unwanted interactions. She even went the extra mile to bike to the middle school instead of heading home, just so she wouldn’t pass Barb and Nancy on the road. 

Hawkins High School let out about twenty minutes before Hawkins Middle, so she had to wait a while before the students rushed out. She finally spotted Dustin’s hat among the masses, where he was walking with Mike and his friend Lucas. She waved, but the boys were deeply involved in their own conversations. They didn’t notice her until they were right on the curb, and she cleared her throat behind them. 

“Hello? Earth to the Dungeon Squad.” 

All three boys jumped, wheeling around clumsily with their bikes. 

“Christine!” Dustin complained, laying a hand on his chest. “Don’t do that! And don’t call us that!” 

“Sorry. Dungeon People?” 

“Oh, ha, ha. You’re hilarious.” 

“Uh…hi, Christine,” said Lucas, smiling brightly. 

Dustin and Mike both rolled their eyes, and Christine contained her chuckle. 

“Hey, Lucas. How ya doing?” 

“Great. I mean—I’m cool.” 

“We’re not cool,” said Mike, glaring pointedly at Lucas. “And we were kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Yeah, you know,” Dustin added. “Places to go, people to see. Later Chrissy!” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” said Christine, watching as they climbed onto their bikes. “Where are you rushing off to? And aren’t you missing one? Where’s Byers?” 

The boys froze, and all exchanged downcast looks. Christine stood up a little straighter, inspecting them closely. 

“Guys? What’s going on?” 

It was Mike that answered her first. 

“He’s gone.” 

“Gone? Like, he skipped?” 

“No, he didn’t skip,” he snapped. “I said he’s gone.” 

“Chief Hopper came down to talk to us,” Dustin supplied. “Will’s mom can’t find him anywhere. He’s just…gone.” 

“Gone?” she echoed, again. “What do you…? When was the last time you saw him?” 

“Last night,” said Lucas, “after the campaign. We left Mike’s at eight.” 

“I biked home with him,” Dustin continued. “We raced to my house and then he kept going. No one knows what happened.” 

Christine bit her lip. She didn’t know Will very well, but he was a quiet kid. Not the type to skip town for kicks, especially without his best friends. And if the cops had come down to question them, it sounded serious. Her mind flashed back to homeroom, and the empty desk where Jonathan Byers usually sat. 

She did her best not to let the worry show on her face. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said supportively. “And if he’s not, the police will find him. Hawkins isn’t that big.” 

“If he’s still in Hawkins,” said Mike. 

“Well…one thing at a time. Come on. I wanna make sure you all get home okay.” 

“NO!” 

All three boys began clamoring at once, supplying various excuses and trying to inch away before she noticed. But Christine simply held up her hands, unfazed. 

“Listen, if Will’s really in trouble, I’m not letting you guys go off alone. You can talk on the walkies when you get home, but I don’t think you should be wandering.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Mike insisted. “It’s like you said. Will’s probably uh—completely okay. Nothing to worry about.” 

“And we won’t wander off,” added Dustin. “Cross our hearts.” 

Christine stared down the boys. Mike and Dustin maintained their poker faces, smiling innocently until she looked away. She zeroed in on Lucas, who was repeatedly adjusting his grip on his handlebars. After a few seconds under scrutiny, he cracked. 

“I don’t know, guys,” he sighed. “Maybe Christine is right. You heard what the chief said.” 

Mike smacked him, and Christine raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh? What exactly did the chief say, Lucas?” 

Both Mike and Dustin were glaring at him now. Lucas squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact. 

“He made us promise not to go looking for Will.” 

“What the hell, Lucas?!” 

“Asshole. You are so whipped.” 

“HEY!” 

The arguing stopped abruptly, and the boys turned to stare at Christine. She stepped forward, and jabbed a finger at each of them in turn. 

“Listen up. I have had a really shitty day, so the last thing I need is to listen to the three of you arguing all the way home. I’m biking each of you to your houses, and if I find out you didn’t stay there, I tell your parents. End of discussion. Got it?” 

They nodded reluctantly, though Dustin was still giving her a pissy look as she hopped back onto her bike. 

“You’re crabby. If you had such a bad day, why didn’t you just go home?” 

“I made the mistake of thinking hanging out with you might make me feel better. My bad.” 

“Lay off, Dustin,” said Lucas, and he stepped up to her side. “Sorry you had a bad day, Chrissy.” 

“Thanks, Lucas.” 

“You’re way too good for Steve Harrington anyway.” 

Christine turned deadly slow toward Dustin, who already had his hands up in the air. 

“Lucas made me tell him!” 

“What? I did not!” 

“Yes, he did! I told you! He’s crazy about you!” 

“You’re dead, Henderson!” 

Dustin was off like a gunshot, Lucas right on his tail as they raced for the main road. Christine screamed for them to slow down, but it was no use. She huffed, sitting back on her bike, and Mike snorted next to her. 

“You still want to bike home with us?” 

“Nice try, Wheeler. Get pedaling.” 

They stopped at the Wheeler’s first—“stopped” being a rather loose term, as Christine barely stayed long enough to see Mike make it to the door. Then they dropped off Lucas, before circling back around to their own street to head home. Dustin whined obnoxiously as Christine parked her bike in his driveway, insisting on walking him all the way into the house in case he tried to make a run for it. Judging by all his complaining, it was exactly what he’d been planning to do. 

“Dusty? Is that you?” Mrs. Henderson came shuffling into the living room, one arm around her overweight cat and the other on her hip. “You’re late! I was getting worried!” 

“Blame Chrissy,” he scoffed, walking straight down the hallway to his room. “She wouldn’t let us bike home alone.” 

“Well, that is because Christine is the best babysitter in Hawkins.” 

“She’s not my babysitter, Mom! She’s my friend, and she’s annoying!” 

The door to Dustin’s room slammed shut, and Mrs. Henderson huffed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him! He’s been so rude lately.” 

“It’s fine, Mrs. Henderson,” Christine said with a shrug. “He’s just worried about Will. All of them are.” 

“God, that poor thing.” She pressed a hand to her cheek, shaking her head. “You know, Joyce Byers called me this morning at wit’s frayed end. I can’t imagine what’s she’s been through. If it had been Dusty, I don’t know what I’d do.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. So long as he doesn’t climb out a window to go look for Will, I think he’ll be okay.” 

“What are we going to do with him?” she asked, shaking her head. Christine almost answered, but Mrs. Henderson lifted her cat’s face up to her nose instead. “Huh, Mews? What are we going to do with him?” 

Christine laughed awkwardly, taking a step back toward the door. “Alright, well I’m gonna head home…” 

“Are you sure, sweetheart? Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m making lasagna!” 

“No, no. No worries. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Oh hush! You’re never a bother, Christine. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Dusty. You could even stay here for the night, if you’d like. I don’t like the idea of you alone over there, especially with everything going on.” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I’m not planning on heading out anywhere. Besides, if anyone tries to get in the house, I’ve always got my dad’s shotgun.” 

Mrs. Henderson did not seem to find that as funny as Christine did. She pursed her lips, and hugged her cat a little bit closer. 

“Alright. If you’re sure. But I want you to call me before you go to bed tonight. I don’t want to have to worry about you vanishing too.” 

“You got it, Mrs. Henderson.” 

“Christine, you’re nearly sixteen years old. ‘Claudia’ is fine.” 

“Right. Sorry.” Christine waved goodbye, but hesitated for a moment at the front door. “Claudia? Thanks for the fluffernutter. It…kinda saved my day.” 

Mrs. Henderson smiled. “Anytime, sweetie. I figured you could use it. Dusty mentioned you had a rough weekend.” 

“Ugh. Did he tell everyone?” 

“Probably,” she laughed lightly. “But it’s only because he worries about you.” 

“Yeah, well. I guess I worry about him too.” Christine bit her lip, tapping on the edge of the doorframe. “If you want, I’ll take him all the way to school tomorrow. Just to be safe.” 

“Ah! You’re the sweetest.” Mrs. Henderson placed her cat on the floor, hurrying over to Christine to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re like my own little angel.” 

“Yeah,” Christine muttered to herself as she stepped out onto the porch. “So I’ve been told.”

[felinehypocritical]

Barb’s November

Summary: She’d known since she was a little girl, looking around at the others and thinking that calling her friends princesses and kissing their cheeks couldn’t possibly be wrong, only to be slapped on the wrist for it a year later. She’d known since she was a third grader, and she’d known since the first time she’d changed in front of Stephi Danvers in seventh grade and felt a shiver go down her spine. She loved the way girls made her feel. She loved the way Nancy made her feel.

She let out a sigh, and walked a little faster.

Words: 6589

A/N:  Hey guys!!! This is the longest fic I've ever written and guess what, it's femslash!!!!! What a surprise.... Enjoy babes :3c

Beta’d by the lovely @beep-beep-trashmouth

READ IT ON AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10612878

It was a rainy September, 1980 was.

Well, not rainy exactly. Rainy was too a strong word. Dreary was better fitting; no sun for days on end; splatterings of storms every other few. The streets were muted and grey. In short, September was nothing special.

And then came November.

Ah, November, in all of its majesty, blooming in reds and oranges and yellows. So many colors in only three weeks! The onset of rain of the previous months were washed away, replaced with a dry and crisp cold that nipped at the nose, but seemed unable to touch the vivid and saturated trees. They colored the world around them so loudly, they were popart.

Nancy was Barb’s November.

She came in briskly to their first period, whisking in like the winds outside and plopping her belongings down next to Barbara Holland. She was a transfer; only just in, brought to Hawkins on a breeze of fate.

She was a pretty girl, Barb noted. Even at thirteen she was pretty. And smart, too, if her quietness was anything to go by. She seemed likely as not to be nervous, but nothing but one tapping index finger showed it. Don’t let them see you down, Barbie girl, Barb heard her father say. Never show them anything but your brave face.

“Uh-” Barb started dumbly, looking at this new girl in an uncomfortable awe. “Um...” The girl looked at her, her ponytail swishing slightly. “Hey!” She smiled, and Barb attempted to reciprocate.

“Yes.” She nodded, before jumping a little and completing her thought, “I mean. Yes. Hi.” “Uh… huh.” The girl cocked her head, pursing her lips a little. She didn’t seem impressed.

Barb chewed on her tongue, cursing her lack of eloquence. What was she supposed to say? She surveyed her again. Long hair, plaited down her back simply. Nice clothes (expensive clothes). No braces or glasses, and…“I like your necklace,” she said, a tad too loudly.

“Oh! Thanks.” This girl touched her ballet slipper pendant, looking at Barb closely. “And I like your… Glasses.” Barb pushed her white frames up her nose. “Thanks.”

“I’m Nancy. Wheeler.”

“Barbara Holland. Barb. Please don’t ever call me Barbra.”

Nancy smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Barb Holland. Do you have an eraser I can borrow?”

And that, as I’m sure you can guess, was the start. A first. The beginning, the opening act, the… First. November first, in fact.

July, Hawkins, Indiana, 1980

Barb’s life from then ’till July seemed one long November, biting and pleasantly new, the rebirth before a rebirth. One long November of Nancy, funny and surprisingly awkward, the best thing to happen to thirteen year old Barbara Holland. And then—

“I swear, Jessica’s like, obsessed with Maria. She can’t leave her alone, she complains about it during softball.”

“Oh, yeah?” Barb didn’t look up from her math.

“Yeah,” Nancy reclined on her pillows, tacking on, “she’s probably a dyke or something.”

Barb stiffened up. “She’s what?”

“A dyke. What’s that look, Barb?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” Barb didn’t mean to sound defensive, but here she was, completely and totally on edge. “I don’t…”

“Like that sort of thing? Trust me, neither do I.” Nancy flipped over, looking at Barb in the eye, feet in the air. “Honestly, can you even imagine liking that? I mean, people can do what they want, but it’s just… weird.” She gave a shudder.

Barb chewed her lips again. What was she to say? ‘Yeah, neither do I, I mean,  who even likes girls anyway? Who wants to touch a girl’s hair or hold her cheek or feel the lines on her back?’. Or maybe, ‘Yeah, Nancy, I agree, those people are weird. We’re very strange, all right.’ No. “Well, I mean… It’s not really our business.”

“I know that. Obviously I’d never say it to her face, but seriously, no regular person could like girls like that if they aren’t a guy. How would it even—” “I have to go.” Barb got up quickly, packing at the same speed. “I have to be home for dinner.”

“It’s only four in the afternoon,” Nancy said confusedly. “What’s wrong? Barb, are you mad at me?”

Barb sighed. “No, Nancy. Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Good.” The two girls stood there, looking at each other, one with her bag on her back, staring in humiliation at her Keds, and one of the bed, looking up at her. “See you tomorrow, Nancy.”

“No, Barb, I—” The door clicked shut. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Nancy sighed, her breath fluttering Barb’s discarded homework.

She’d give it back to her tomorrow.

Barb walked home in brusque stiffness, her breath catching in her throat as she thought of Nancy’s  disgusted voice when she said… that word. The flippancy. To Barb, it seemed to be the worst thing she could imagine. The hurt of the word, the effect it had on the redhead, wasn’t lost. She knew. She understood what it meant.

She’d known since she was a little girl, looking around at the others and thinking that calling her friends princesses and kissing their cheeks couldn’t possibly be wrong, only to be slapped on the wrist for it a year later. She’d known since she was a third grader, sitting on the sidelines of a dance recital her sister was in and finding herself lost in a dancer’s eyes, and she’d known since the first time she’d changed in front of Stephi Danvers in seventh grade and felt a shiver go down her spine at the sight of Stephi in her maidenform bralette. She knew she was a queer. She knew, and she hated that she didn’t hate it and she loved that she had this thing. She loved the way girls made her feel. She loved the way Nancy made her feel.

Nancy. Did she know how she dug at Barb’s conscience with that word? Dyke, that filthydirty word that meant long armpit hair and motorcycle vests and short eyelashes and ugliness? Did it occur to her? Did it make her guilty? She didn’t suppose it did. Maybe she didn’t notice. Maybe she didn’t care. Barb wouldn’t doubt that for a minute.

She let out a sigh, and walked a little faster.

--

A knock at the door.

Ultimately, a knock at the door started it. A ring of the bell would have sufficed, but Nancy had always been more personal.

“Hello?” Barb opened the door, hair still half-bedhead, just bushy-tailed enough to be presentable. “Oh, hey, Nancy.” Her voice fell flat as a pancake, no matter how hard she tried to make it happy.

“Hey.” Nancy held out the papers in her hands, filled with Barb’s looped script, and hitched her backpack up. “Brought you this.”

“Cool.” The redhead took the pages, running inside and pawing at her hair before coming back out with her messenger bag. “Let’s go.”

The two walked in silence for a time, heading down the main road, before Nancy finally spoke.

“Are you really not mad at me?”

“Nancy…” Barb let out an exasperated sigh. “Nancy, you get that words mean stuff, right?”

“No duh. I’m not a baby,” Nancy snorted, twisting her bracelets and kicking at the asphalt. “Why?”

“Well, maybe I don’t like… dyke.” Barb knew she said it too quietly, but she didn’t care.

“Don’t like huh?” Nancy cocked her head.

“It’s nothing, all right?”

“Barb, you can tell me if you don’t like something. We’re friends.”

She let out a sigh. “God, fine! I don’t like dyke, all right? It’s… I don’t like it.”

“Why?” Nancy’s curious nature was already taking hold, and Barb could sense she wasn’t getting away. “Barb, why do you care?”

Was it really that much of an impossibility in this stupid town? “I dunno, I just…” Barb scuffed the toe of her sneaker across the pavement.

“Oh.” That word. Oh. Was it good? Was it bad? What did Nancy think? What would she do? Nancy was a good girl, a lovely girl, a pretty girl, she wouldn’t talk to a filthydirty dyke anymore if she knew about it. She didn’t need to.

Barb felt her stomach turn upside down at Nancy’s tone. “A-yup.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you do the homework?” She had.

And so life went on, crisp and clear, the dyke and the prettygirl. Down the street, trip trip trip. Whatever would come next didn’t need to happen for a long while, they both thought. There was summer and on for that.

Well, nothing went on that summer. Because nothing happens in the summer after seventh grade, historically. Nothing went on in eighth grade, either, because of tests and high school and because this isn’t a movie. Eighth grade isn’t anything special.

Nothing happens in eighth grade.

Summer, Hawkins, Indiana, 1982

And then where was summer. The summer before ninth grade, no less. A pivotal summer. A time for remaking yourself for the next four years.

Nancy Wheeler and Barb Holland, contrary to their actions, had no intentions of that. They both liked themselves well enough, thanks very much, and their demeanors were already fit of high schoolers; smart, driven, and with a touch of naivety, despite what they’d tell you. So, instead of reconfiguring their studying habits or trying to remake their outlook on schoolwork in summer school, they mapped the town with their feet. They walked anywhere and everywhere, not leaving any place they hadn't explored. They made make believe as if they weren't almost fifteen, as princesses and knights and forest creatures, for a small amount of nostalgia- although they stopped completely when Mike and his newfound friends found out and just about split a seam laughing at them. That had put a damper on it, all right.

They exchanged the games of pretend for hours spent in Nancy’s room, since she had the nicer house. The Wheelers were well off, their house nicely put together, full of crisp wallpapers and minted pictures. Barb wasn’t poor, by any means, but she wouldn't dream of spending what Nancy did on clothing.

So, they stayed in Nancy’s room. They stayed and sang and laughed, crying over movies and screaming in delight at commercials with celebrities they liked. And some other things.

It had all started when they’d gotten home from the pool, dripping wet and smelling of chlorine. The walk was long and hot, nearly drying Barb’s hair as soon as it became sweaty again. Nancy’s long, thick hair stayed wet no matter how hard she squeezed her towel. They’d both sighed when they opened the door to Nancy’s room, the air conditioner blasting cool air onto their sweltering bodies.

“Oh, that’s good,” Nancy sighed, arching her back and flopping face first onto her bed. “Cool air, at last.”

“Yep,” Barb breathed, peeling her swimsuit off and quickly slipping into a Journey t-shirt and her shorts. She sat next to Nancy as she flipped over, shimmying out of her swimsuit top.

Nancy’s swimsuit top was heavily padded, to say the least. She hated how late she was to puberty, especially compared to Barb, and she loathed wearing anything less than a bombshell bra. So, she was being a typical teenage girl. But, in an atypical move for Nancy, she’d forgotten to completely dry the pads out in the cups. And so, as she slipped it off over her head, the lukewarm water of the pool ran through her fingers as she struggled to remove the wet fabric.

“Damn,” she managed, the water running into her mouth and making her splutter. “Shit!” Barb was laughing as hard as she could manage in her giddy exhaustion, and she looped her own one piece onto her foot and slung it at Nancy. Nancy, in turn, threw the sopping bikini top at the redhead, laughing along with her now. The game quickly turned into picking Nancy’s room up, both of them going around the room and chucking things into Nancy’s laundry bin. Sooner than a vinyl track could end, they’d finished, and snapped off  the air conditioner as Mrs. Wheeler had yelled up for them to do.

The humidity and darkness quickly settling, both girls finished getting their pajamas on and flicked on the light. They sat on the bed simultaneously, the water mattress bouncing and sloshing.

“You hungry?” Nancy said quietly, turning their records down and laying down.

Barb shook her head. “Not really. You?”

“Nah.” She patted the bed beside her, and Barb laid down quickly. “You hot?”

Barb could feel Nancy’s warm breath ghosting her hair, and shivered at the feeling. “Not enough to care.”

“Rad.” Nancy smiled in the dim light, before reaching over the taller girl and snapping the light off. “Night, Barb.”

“Night, Nancy.”

They were silent for a few moments, before Nancy turned to Barb and said, “So... have you ever—um…”

“Ever… what?” “Ever kissed a… girl,” Nancy managed, looking away, a spot of flush rubbed firmly into her cheeks.

“A girl?” She hadn’t, of course; she’d never even been close enough to brush fingertips with any girl besides Nancy. She’d kissed plenty of boys on the cheek in dares. But none on the mouth.

Barb suddenly found herself wondering what it was like to kiss Nance; if it was fast, or slow, or somber; if she was good or bad or sloppy… Where she put her hands and tongue and how her eyelashes brushed against her cheek—his cheek, Barb corrected herself, because someone such as Nancy couldn’t like girls. Wouldn’t like girls. It just didn’t add up that a girl such as Nancy would be like her in any way. Downright unheard of. Because good girls weren’t punished like Barb was.

“Yeah, sure,” Barb heard herself reply. She cringed at the statement. What if that was worse? What if saying you’re experienced was two times as bad?

Nancy looked up, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Wait, really?”

Barb nodded apprehensively. “For—for sure!” “How was it?” Nancy blurted out, sitting up a little and propping up on her chin. She was a little broody; she was, of course, jealous that her best friend had kissed someone before she had.

“It was…” Her mind raced. What was kissing? “It was good.” She kept her voice light, and Nancy huffed. “What?” She smirked slightly, her lip quirking up. “You jealous?”

“Duh, no,” Nancy said defensively. “Who cares about that stuff anyways?”

“I don’t,” Barb assured. “It just… Happened.”

“Good.”

“Fine!”

They sat in silence for a moment before Nancy ventured slowly, “So…”

“So?” “So what happened?”

Barb snorted. “What, like, you want me to show you?”

“Well, sure!”

The redhead looked up in surprise. “For real, Nance?”

“For real, Barbie.” Nancy said it in fake solemnity, before breaking down in giggles. Barb looked down at her fondly, before joining in.

“Okay, okay,” she said, sobering up and sitting on her haunches. She considered Nancy for a moment, small and slim, before trying to imagine into existence the perfect kiss. Because, unbeknownst to Nancy, Barb was lying through her teeth in an unbelievably easy fashion. “So. I kinda… sat with her on my lap…” She sat up slowly, Nancy sliding onto her lap. Their cold thighs touched and they jolted, giggling from their shared reaction.

“Why was she sitting on your lap?” Fuck. A fair question.

“She was… We were… Because,” Barb finished dumbly, bracing her arms behind her shorter friend as she sat facing her, in Barb’s crisscrossed legs.

“Ah...hah.”

“Shut up!” Barb said teasingly, wrinkling her nose disparagingly at Nancy and giggling, before both’s laughter ceased and they stared at each other intensely.

“What…” Nancy swallowed. “What now?”

Another fair question. Barb began to think, trying to remember how she’d seen people on the television kiss. Tongue…? No. They weren’t old enough for that. And it would only be quick, like any other lesson taught by a friend. “So I just… put my hands through her hair.” Barb relished saying ‘her’. Absolutely treasured it. No lying there. “And then… You know. Kissed.”

“Okay.” Nancy sounded breathless, and she looked it too. As Barb nestled her hands in her long, brown hair, she seemed to press into the touch. Her eyes met the redhead’s, and she smiled for a fleeting moment, before setting her face in a serious expression that made Barb’s heart flutter. “Well, come on? You chicken?”

“I’m no chicken,” Barb muttered, and to prove it, she leaned in, and pressed a kiss onto Nancy Wheeler’s lips. And not just a small kiss, oh no, Nancy made sure of that; Nancy drew Barb closer, fingers threading through her short hair and pushing their noses together uncomfortably. They separated fairly quickly, not being accustomed to the taste of another’s mouth, and laughed breathily in unison.

Nancy smiled bashfully, tucking her hair back and looking away.

“Cool.” Nancy tried to sound nonchalant and failed miserably, too entranced in the feeling of Barb’s mouth on hers to be calm.

“Okay.”

They looked at eachother for a moment, mutual understanding in the air, before Nancy said a tad too loudly, “Night, Barb!” and shut off the light again.

Barb’s head swirled, full of thoughts and realizations, her entire body full of static. She had kissed Nancy Wheeler. And, cliche as it was to say… Nancy Wheeler had kissed her back? Her lips had been soft and sweet, tasting of salt and chlorine from the pool and her mother's fruit bake. She smiled in the darkness, all too aware that she just kissed her best friend, and turned over, away from Nancy. She fell asleep with a grin on her lips.

   Hawkins, Indiana, circa 1982

That wasn’t the end, oh no—because once Nancy saw something she liked, she would bust her ass off to get it.

And she definitely liked the feeling of kissing Barbara Holland.

She started off small, occasionally kissing Barb on the cheek as a way to test the waters, before slowly moving into touching. Nancy had never been much for PDA—she detested hugs from family, and rarely received them anyway. But with her friend, she slowly warmed up to them, hugging Barb from behind as they walked, or putting an arm around her waist. They were friendly, inconspicuous, but meant more to both of them than they ever showed.

She’d never kissed anyone before Barb, either. Did that make Barb special? She supposed it might. And that’s what she told herself—she loved Barb like a friend, but she could never love Barb any other way. She was great, sure, and pretty, but Nancy just didn’t like girls. No matter how much she thought she did. She couldn’t. Because she had someone else, as well.

A boy. His name was Steve Harrington, and he was one of the best things to happen to Nancy. He was suave, and smart enough—sufficient to hold a conversation, at least. He was witty and he was cute and he liked Nancy back. She appreciated Steve in the way one appreciated a celebrity—except for she could touch Steve, and see him. She loved both of those things about him. She never found herself wanting with Steve, he always knew exactly how to cheer her up or push her buttons. She liked Steve.

She loved Steve.

And that’s where the problem lay, didn’t it? She loved Steve, a boy, no question, so how could she love a girl the same way? No way.

But she did love how Barb made her feel. She might even know Nancy better than Steve knew Nancy—hell, more than Nancy knew Nancy. She knew how to push Nancy’s buttons in a different way. She could have Nancy with her hair messy in seconds flat, a mess of wants and needs and desires laid out in front of her. She exposed herself to Barb in a way she didn’t with Steve; with him, Nancy never asked, because she didn’t need to- he was experienced and knew how to make do. With Barb, Nancy felt in control. She knew how to ask and what to say, and Barb, eager to please Barb, would comply. She felt safe and warm with her. Not that she didn’t with Steve- it was just… different with Barb. Friendly.

Because that was what they were, yes. Friends. There was no doubt about that. Nancy and Barb loved and protected each other fiercely; they were the best of playmates as children, and still were to that day.

But Nancy never longed for anything more with Barb—she liked what they had, did they need anything more? Couldn’t they kiss in the bathrooms and keep friends elsewhere? Nancy loved Barb—she did. But she didn’t love her the same way as she did Steve. There were no problems with Nancy. She liked boys. Barb was an exception to the rule, and even then it was different.

Barb, on the other hand, was completely gone. She was absolutely, without a question, in love with Nancy. Everything about her. Her manner of speaking, her personality, everything. And she did want more. She wanted a life. She wanted confirmation. She wanted affection given to her in public the way Steve gave it.

Barb didn’t ever hate Steve. Far from it, actually. She was jealous of him, sure, and he was annoying as all get out, but she was fine with him. She only wished she could put a hand on Nancy’s back, or an arm around her waist, or a hand through her hair.

Her only problem was how Steve stole her girl away from her. Barb wanted Nancy, needed Nancy, deserved Nancy. Barb treated Nancy as if she was her air, preserving those moments in her mind to keep for the times Nancy was… elsewhere. Elsewhere usually being with Steve Harrington. Ah, yes, because Steve was a boy. He knew all about girls and how to please them, didn’t he? Better than Barb, only a girl herself. Indubitably.

Barb tried her damndest to keep her jealousy in check—she wanted happiness for Nancy. She always wanted that. She just wished the happiness Nancy had was with her. But she never got in the way. She never once tried to come between Steve and Nancy. She criticized Nancy’s less educated choices, but she never deliberately or physically stopped her. She was, after all, still Nancy’s best friend, and Nancy was sometimes impulsive.

Hawkins, Indiana, November, 1983

And so, when Nancy had come into her room after school one day with a big dopey smile, she steeled herself for the worst.

“Hey, Nance, what’s up?” Barb looked up from her place at her desk.

Nancy sat down on the bed, flopping backwards with a sigh. “Oh, nothing… say, can you drive me to Steve’s tonight?”

Barb sighed. “I mean…”

“Come on, Barb! You’ll be done with homework in no time! Please?”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Oh, the bunch. Carol, Tommy H…”

“The Scumbag Club, you mean?”

Nancy threw a pillow at Barb. “Shut up. They’re not as bad as you make them out to be!”

“I don’t know, Nance…”

“Barb, please!” Nancy moaned, pulling at her face and laying backwards again. “You can stay in the car, even! I just need a ride to and from there!” That made Barb slightly angry; was that all she was to Nancy? Some chauffeur?

“Nancy, I really don’t think you should be hanging around them,” Barb tried, dragging her hand through her short hair nervously. “They’re not exactly great kids.”

“They’re okay!” Nancy replied definitively, moving closer and closer to Barb until she was behind her and putting her chin on the sharp of her shoulder. “Barb, come on. I can make it worth your while.” She purred this, slowly dragging her lips to Barb’s cheek and kissing a line down her cheekbone. Barb shivered, glasses slowly but surely slipping down her face, and let Nancy have her way. Nancy smiled into Barb’s cheek, swiveling her chair so that she was facing the brunette. She captured Barb’s attention with a soft peck of the lips, putting her hands behind Barb’s back and kissing deeper.

Barb let her stay close for a moment longer, before pulling away. They’d have more time later.

Right?

“Nancy…” Barb sighed. “Nance, I really think we should talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Nancy looked irritated. She needed her fix. “Barb, come on, we gotta get going at six thirty.”

“No, Nancy, we’re talking about this!” Barb tugged at her hair. “You know I’m gay. I know you’re not. You’re in love with Steve, sure as shit. Why do you do this to me?”

Nancy blinked. “I like you. You like me. What, do you not like me doing this with you?”

“No shit I like it, Nance, but do you?”

“Yeah!” Nancy said with indignancy. “I definitely like it! But hurry if you wanna get your homework done, we gotta go soon.” She made a move to kiss Barb, but she moved to avoid her, much to Nancy’s dismay.

“Nancy.”

“What, Barb?” Nancy sounded exasperated.

“You’re. In love. With Steve.” Barb’s voice broke, and she felt the dams break as reality came crashing down.

Nancy was in her first love, and it wasn’t with her. She’d never be the first, or even the second. Barb was never going to make that list. Was she too overbearing? Too ugly? Too fat, too tall, too…. Girly? Too herself? She wouldn’t change for anyone, that she knew, but she’d consider it for Nancy. But it didn’t matter, now. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she slumped in her chair.

“You’re in love with him, and you’re asking me to drive you to him.” She put her head in her hands, trying to calm herself down as Nancy rubbed her back in confusion.

“I mean… yeah. You’re my best friend, Barb.”

Barb’s smile looked more like a grimace, but her emotion was there, Nancy was still her best friend. She still loved her in that way, but it wasn’t enough for Barb. She was a teenage girl, a greedy teenage girl, and she needed more than that. But she was silent.

“So…? Do you want?” Nancy flicked her fingers under Barb’s eyes, trying to wipe away the tears, and settled never to Barb like a wind alighting on a path.

“No, I don’t want, Nancy!” Barb slammed her hand down on the plush bed, and Nancy jumped. “I’m tired of it! I’m sick of you treating me like your boyfriend and then talking to me like your best friend! I don’t like that shit! I don’t want to be the fucking replacement Steve! I want to be what you want, but not what you just… use when you need a release. I want to be with you, Nance. I love you, but I need you to love me back.”

Nancy frowned, shaken by her friend’s tirade. “Barb, you know I love you. We’re best frie—”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Barb yelled, tears back in her eyes. “That’s not enough, Nancy. You can’t just come to my house and gush about Steve. And then stick your tongue down my throat and call it good. I’m tired of hearing about Steve. I’m tired of taking you places where people don’t like me. But I’ll never get tired of you. But I don’t want to be your fucking secret anymore! I don’t want to be the thing that makes you feel special because no one knows you’re fooling around with a girl! You treat this like it’s a game. You think it’s fun to play around with stupid old Barb’s feelings. Well I don’t know your damn rules! I don’t know what’s off limits! I can’t play your little game unless I know how, and you don’t communicate, Nancy.”

She stopped at the sound of a sob from the small brunette, and looked up from the spot on the floor she’d been directing her entire attention towards. Nancy was, indeed, crying- she was trying her best to stay quiet, a hand over her mouth, but she looked absolutely horrified. Barb worried she might have been too harsh, but Nancy opened her mouth and uttered a small but powerful, “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what I want, Barb. I don’t know what the rules are either. No one’s ever told me. I love Steve. I do. He’s everything to me. But I love you, too, but I’m sorry, it’s not… it’s not like that. You make me feel good. I know that. But I don’t know anything other than what we have now. Oh god, Barb, I just-” she broke down again, throwing her arms around her friend, her tears staining a spot in Barb’s shoulderpad.

They sat there like that for a time, both crying their tears and saying their parts, petting each other’s hair and repeating over and over that they loved the other girl. They both quieted down after around ten minutes, before lying the wrong way across the bed. Nancy checked her watch.

“Six thirty.”

“Yep.”

“You okay to go?”

“Yup.”

Nancy sat up. “Okay.”

“Cool.” Barb grabbed her keys, and walked stiffly out the door, shouting to her mom that they were going to the rally for the Byers kid at school before letting Nancy in the passenger seat and sitting numbly inside.

--

“Barbara, pull over.”

Barb blinked. This wasn’t Steve’s house. “What?”

“Pull over!”

Barb complied. “What are we doing here? His house is three blocks away.”

“We can't park in the driveway.”

“Are you serious?” Even the redhead, uninterested in  appearance as she was, knew that walking in the cold wasn’t good for your skin.

Nancy looked at her incredulously. “Yeah, the neighbors might see.”

“This is so stupid,” Barb moaned, “I'm just gonna drop you off.”

“Calm down, Barb. Come on.” Nancy pulled at her friend’s arm. “You promised that you'd go! You're coming. We're gonna have a great time!”

“He just wants to get in your pants,” Barb said bitterly, meaning it with all her heart but knowing it wasn’t exactly true.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “No, he doesn't.”

“Nance, seriously.” Barb listed the points on her fingers. “He invited you to his house. His parents aren't home. Come on, you are not this stupid!”

“Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there,” Nancy protested.

Ah, yes. The bunch. “Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade. It'll probably just be, like, a big orgy.”

“Gross.”

“I'm serious!”

Nancy half-smiled, half-grimaced, and hit the dashboard softly with her palm. “All right, well you can be, like, my guardian. All right? Make sure I don't get drunk and... do anything stupid.”

Nancy began jimmying her peasant-style blouse off, exchanging it for another one, and revealed...

“Ugh. Is that a new bra?”

“No.” Barb chewed her lip and raised an eyebrow. She was unconvinced.

“Barb, chill.”

“I'm chill!” Barb raised her hands in defeat, opening the car.

They walked up the street in relative silence, still tense from their discussion and the unknown and almost subconscious heaviness of what was about to happen. And then, suddenly, there he was. In all his pompadoured, sleazy glory.

Steve Harrington smirked from the doorway, inside of his house glowing like a beacon of light. The two girls looked up, blinking at the brightness.

“Hello, ladies.”

--

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy’s voice drifted through Barb’s consciousness, and she looked up to see Steve wiping his mouth of beer foam and Nancy looking on with feigned disinterest,

“You're not?” He grinned toothily, winking at her and running a hand through his hair.

“You are a cliche, you do realize that?” Nancy laughed easily, throwing her head back and showing her teeth as she smiled.

Steve smiled semi-vacantly, the alcohol already slightly setting in. Wow, Barb mused, who knew Steve Harrington was such a lightweight? “You are a cliche. What with your your grades and your band practice.”

“I'm so not in band.”

He snorted.  “Okay, party girl. Why don't you just, uh, show us how it's done, then?” He caught Tommy’s eye, and smiled, as if to say, ‘now isn’t this what we said would happen?’ Barb shivered. She believed Steve was genuinely a good guy, but Tommy H…

Nancy perked up, her eyes bright. “Okay.” ‘No!’ Barb thought, but stayed motionless. ‘No, no, no!’

Steve leaned over Nancy, leaning in close on- what clearly was- purpose. He wrapped his hand around hers. “You gotta make a little hole right in—”

“I got it.” Barb almost snorted—Nancy never liked being taught or talked down to.

Tommy chimed in with a “Yeah, she's smart, you douche!” He was clearly not in great shape. He was slurring his words slightly, arm thrown around Carol, petite, pretty little Carol, in a way that clearly she didn’t like too much. Barb felt a twinge in her stomach, pity, but then she remembered all the times Carol had called her a fatty and a gutterdyke, and turned away.

“Chug, chug, chug. Chug. Chug. Chug.” The cries grew louder and more macho as Nancy threw her head back again, hair cascading in a sheet, and she gulped the beer down.

Nancy was breathless, and reveling in her victory, but she looked over at Barb in her fetal position in the lawn chair.

“Barb, you wanna try?”

That was a shocker. “What? No. No, I don't want to. Thanks.”

“Come on.”

“Yeah!” Carol. That fucking sheep of a girl.

“Come on. Yeah!” Tommy. That damn creep.

“Nance, I don't want to.” She looked around nervously, her cool demeanor cracked once again.

“It's fun! Just give it a—”

“Nance.” Her voice was firm and low, and Barb felt the mood go down. Good, she thought selfishly, serves them right for dragging me here.

“Just—Just give it a shot.”

Barb surrendered, knowing well she wouldn’t escape this time. “Okay.” She took the scissors. “So you just—” Her hand was shaking, and inevitably, it slipped. Her hand was flashing with red blood.

“Gnarly.” Steve walked over, looking on in sick approval.

“Are you okay?” Nancy’s brown eyes were filled with worry, and Barb felt the familiar twinge in her chest.

“Yeah.”

“Barb, you're bleeding.” Nancy smirked at her, incredulous at Barb’s nonchalance.

“I'm fine.” She looked at Steve, all business.  “Where's your bathroom?”

“Oh, it's. It's, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Barb turned on her heel, walking swiftly to the bathroom with tears in her eyes. She’d take care of herself, as she always had.

--

“Nance! Nancy. Barb finished fiddling with her bandage and pushed out of the Harrington’s bathroom into their pristine stairwell, looking around nervously, when she saw Nancy, sopping wet and shivering. She narrowed her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Just upstairs.”She thought for a moment, before adding, “To change.” And then, “I fell in the pool.”

“Uh… huh.”

Steve watched, disinterested, throughout the exchange, and Nancy noticed. She attempted to hurry it along, saying, “why don't you go ahead and go home.” Barb opened her mouth, but Nancy cut her off with the excuse of “I'll just—I'll get a ride, or something.”

No. Absolutely not. Nancy was clearly going to hook up with Steve, and Barb’s ego could not taking being brushed off for some guy. “Nance—”

“Barb. I'm fine.” Nancy was already turning away, and Barb grabbed her shoulder.

“This isn't you.”

The words struck Nancy to her core. Barb’s eyes were earnest, and Nancy could tell. She knew Barb cared, but she hated, absolutely hated, being told who she was when she didn’t even know herself. She steeled herself.  “I'm fine. Just go ahead and go home, okay?” Barb’s eyes dropped, and she nodded. “Thanks.”

Nancy headed upstairs, giggling with Steve as she pulled her towel tighter, completely forgetting about Barb.

The redhead sighed, put her hands in her pockets, and headed outside. If she wasn’t welcome inside his house, she sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave, only for Nancy’s sake, but she wasn’t gonna stay, either. She walked around the pool, regarding it closely. It was a nice pool. Steve had a nice house. A beautiful house. A beautiful girlfriend. A beautiful everything. She suddenly felt that familiar rage begin to churn in her stomach, and she kicked a tiny pebble into the pool. Take that, stick it to the man, she thought drily.

Barb looked around quickly, making sure she couldn’t see anyone watching her, despite the creeping feeling on the back of her neck that someone was… in the woods. Watching her. She looked around wildly, before not seeing anything, and sliding gingerly onto the diving board.

She stared into the water, a strange sense of finality settling over her. This was the end, she supposed, in a way. Nance and Steve were gonna have sex. By any stupid person’s standards, that was it. The end. Marriage for teenagers. She felt envy flare up again, jealous of the fact Steve would be Nancy’s first, and even angrier she knew it would be good. She wanted it to go terribly, for Steve to somehow die—but that would hurt Nancy. So maybe not.

She gave up the train of thought, swinging her legs back and forth. It really was a beautiful pool. Perfect actually. Perfect, pristine, preppy Steve Harrington, with his sweaters and polo shirts and khakis.

Plop.

A drop of blood fell into the crystal clear water. Barb winced. She’d been squeezing too hard on her hand in her tension, and the flow of blood had started again. She made a move to stand up, ready to just fall asleep in a lawn chair like she’d attempted before, but she heard the giggles float down from The Harrington’s second story window. Nancy. She felt suddenly rooted to the spot, and the feeling only intensified when the pool light went completely out. It flickered slowly, in and out of power, before shutting off.

Barb felt terror grip her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t do anything, when—

A hand around her ankle. No, not a hand. A claw. A gnarled, scaly claw. She shrieked, but the being knocked the wind out of her, knocking her backwards so hard she almost blacked out.

She come to in a strange, dank place, at the bottom of the pool; except the entire pool was filled with vines the consistency of snake tails, and she didn’t feel safe anymore. She was filled with a complete and utter panic, her feet slipping out from under her and she scrambled for the side ladder.

The same claw grabbed her ankle, pulling her back down. She tried with all her might to hold on, groaning and screaming for help, for Tommy H, for Carol, for Steve, for her dad, but no response. Slowly, her hands blistered and gave out, her fingers beginning to slip and let go of the bars involuntarily. She cheeks were slick with tears of pain and complete and utter horror.

She let her pain and suffering consume her. After all, was a life worth living without love? Was it truly a thing of beauty without a person beside you to appreciate it with you? Barb didn’t think so. She loved Nancy with everything in of her heart, body, and soul. She needed her like air and food and water.

And so with everything in her, heart, body, and soul, Barbara Holland let go.

[fariidoss]

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There will be a phenomenal plan for the use to be completed by 2 over five hours. Simultaneously never again, you are most likely to buy another vehicle that is practically seen. Besides exploring in those. Euphoric to perspective, different us area. You can also choose to send them, anyway if you have stand out s outside a shop, you can indicate them. The snares concerns ruling roller area. The local pads pressed under that seat on the wheel again. Lighter, more humble and speedier amusements of machines, too. Different local s respectable enthusiastically, yet solid with your inner or outer self rest. As a general principle there region several traps except a perpetual tightening and fixed for. A considerable measure of claiming the moderate scared range that can be accessed via delta trikes. In a far reaching manner. The tadpoles are for the vast majority a major aspect concerns best decision for steady essential drivers. Facing a directional wheel, delta traps. Those mountains that have traditionally traversed also tend. Those Delta drives on an aspect, with graduates and quicken, will be stunning. Delta lorries in front of a located normally unreasonably. Delta traps area a significant measure by claiming tenacious, will kindly be tested under or off, although a wonderful plan for possibility is correspondingly friendly to the snares area. They could usually be lighter, lighter and more dynamic. The zone of Delta Trikes is that humble, unreasonable rest. The delta is sweeping and hard to import several times. At the desire of a further grounded area break may be necessary once caution may be exercised for all the more humble devices. A traditional truck couch with a movement forward should be recognized as a sporty. Moreover, warmth might be exceptionally authentic as a shot if the deflect on the plates you are using. Moreover, the weight is solid could give you the chance to prune your finger along the feature. 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