#at least Something i can do here even if the rest of coming here was a total waste

[cowboyheyxu]

when you were little, you remember trying to stay up late while waiting for caleb.

he would always be doing something with his friends while you were at home. he'd invite you occasionally, but you turned him down most of the time. all of his friends scared you—frankly, it was due to age, but also they would probably ignore you in favor of caleb. so, you opted to stay home.

caleb would promise to watch a movie with you, lose track of time, and then come home at 11pm. caleb would tell you that he'd come home early to play that new game with you, and you fell asleep ages before he came home. he said he'd help you with your homework, but when he got home, he found you sleeping on the dinner table.

he would always feel bad for it. you could tell by the way he stopped teasing you as much, practically sucking up to you when he came home later than promised. no matter how many times you assured him that it was fine, he never took it.

but sometimes, he'd tease you. once, he caught you staying up late for him (you had not fallen asleep yet), and asked if you missed him. he playfully stroked your cheek while you said, "of course not," while you rolled your eyes. caleb could never know that you did. terribly.

you think that it's good karma that he waits for you now.

recently, caleb took a temporary leave from the DAA. his coworkers were shocked, to say the least. he was dedicated to his job—he is a colonel in the farspace fleet, after all. caleb never revealed the reason of his departure, wanting to keep you a secret.

when asked about it, he said, "i'm not ashamed of you or anything, if that's what you're worried about. that's never it. ever," he pulls you in an embrace for reassurance. you melt into his big, broad body. you feel him let out an exhale above your head.

"i just... don't wanna share you," he mumbled into your ear.

you smile to yourself at the memory, opening the door to your apartment and taking your boots off. there's no light from the kitchen or living room, so you assume that caleb's gone off to bed early.

your footsteps pad through the quiet apartment to your dark bedroom. caleb is perched upright on your bed, resting his head on the headboard. he's tilted a little bit to the side, neck craned upwards.

you try not to run over to him. you bite the inside of your lip to stop the urge from overcoming you. when you get to caleb's side, you brush your hand over his hair, smoothing it out. your fingers trace his forehead, the slope of his nose, and his jawline. you're obsessed with him, you think, an unhealthy amount of obsessed.

"there's no way this can be comfortable," you quietly laugh, gently rubbing caleb's cheek. when you begin to shift his position, a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist.

caleb's hand swallows your wrist, and he keeps you in place. he turns his head over to you, only slightly peering his eyes open, "hey, pipsqueak. you're back."

"hi, sweet boy," you smile at him, "i'm here."

even in the dark, you notice the tips of his ears turning red. he smiles at the endearment and raises your hand to his lips, pressing a quick peck to it. then, he yanks you down onto the bed with him, pulling you into his arms.

you're in a jumbled position on top of him: your body is draped over his hips, your legs are near-dangling off of the bed, and your head is against his bare chest. the skin-to-skin contact is electrifying, and you have to look up to talk to him. the way caleb stares down at you causes you to heat up. you gulp.

"long day today? you came back later than usual," he says pulling you up higher so your legs aren't dangling.

"there were so many wanderers," you reply. you rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust yourself to a sitting position. you move to his side, and caleb lets out of a small groan. "i'm sorry i was late."

"it's fine," caleb shakes his head and rests his head on your shoulder. you continue brushing through his hair and he lets out a content sigh.

"how long have you been awake?" you rub up and down his arms, soothing him.

"not long," he finds satisfaction in the crook of your neck, placing small kisses in the crevice. he feels your hands tighten around his biceps, and you can feel him smirk against your neck. he pauses to ask, "are you tired?"

"exhausted," you shake your head. "i can't wait to go to bed."

caleb mhms into your neck, still pressing his lips around it. your heart begins to race, and if you stay in this position, you know you're never going to leave. you can hear him let out quiet moans of pleasure while he continues to kiss you.

"alright, caleb," you try to pull away, but he only tugs you closer to him, not wanting to detach his lips from you, "i haven't even showered yet, c'mon."

he stops, and cradles your face his both of his hands. he strokes your cheekbones back and forth, then he presses his forehead onto yours. you place your hands on top of his, rubbing his knuckles in silence. the only sound is your synchronized breathing.

"just for five minutes?"

you laugh again, and you watch as it tickles caleb's face. he scrunches it momentarily and you take this time to pull back. caleb intertwines his hand in yours when you stand up.

"i've been waiting all night, y'know?" he looks up at you with big, pouty eyes. you try your best not to cave. or giggle, for that matter. if that happens, then he'll know that he has you, and you won't be able to escape from that.

"liar! you said you haven't been awake for long!" you playfully swat at him. "and, do you remember when you'd keep me waiting as kids?" you reminisce, tapping your finger against your chin as if you were in deep thought. "think of this as karma," you smile.

caleb pouts as he swings your arms back and forth, keeping you still. "i said i was sorryyy," he drags out, "sooo many times."

he tugs you back one last time, but with less force than before. you stumble back into bed, and he hugs you tighty.

"i always thought of you," he whispers up at you, "so mentally, i was with you."

you snort, "i'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"it is," he cheekily says. you hear a lilt in his voice.

"no, i remember being super tired and waiting for you to help me out with my science work. only for you to show up at like, what? was it 10 or 11?" you tease him, poking at his chest.

caleb shakes his head, burying himself deeper into you, "okay, valid. but, in my defense, i sped back home to you. i think i made a ten minute run into five that day."

you want to call him out again, but you can vividly recall his face when he came back to you. he was red—much redder than usual—and panting like a dog. your homework was quickly forgotten when you shot up and asked him if he was okay or not. his breathing was erratic, and there was so much sweat dripping down on him. but the only thing he asked about was if you still needed help on your homework.

"yeah," you say softly, "i remember that."

you kiss the top of his head and caleb releases a long exhale into your chest. "okay. i'll be quick, alright? just like you were. you won't be waiting for long," another kiss, "just let me shower, m'kay?"

at this, caleb opens an eye, a grin showing up on his face, "can i come with?"

you groan loudly, releasing yourself from caleb's grasp as you stand back up. he leans back and sits on his arms, laughing when you get up. his laughter is contagious—it's boisterous and bounces around the while room—and you find yourself giggling along with him.

you shake your head fondly as you lean down and kiss him on his lips. how could you have gone so many years without this? caleb was always right there—right in front of you—and you could've had him this whole time.

you kiss him with everything that's in you, even through your exhaustion. he slides his hand over to cup your cheek, and he presses his lips deeper into yours. you let out quiet whimpers as he continues, and caleb reciprocates.

it takes about five minutes for the two of you to come back up for air. you're breathless, and you're eyes are set on the rise and fall of caleb's chest. it reminds you of the homework night, and you chuckle before pecking him one more time.

"i'll be quick, remember?" you tuck some of his hair behind his ear. he leans into your hand, desperately. "don't miss me too much, okay? i love you," you smile.

you set off into the bathroom, replaying moments of your childhood throughout your head as you shower. has caleb always run back to you? was he always thinking about you? warmth rushes through your body, and it's not because of the hot water.

you're not surprised when caleb comes in as soon as he hears the water turn off. he stretches, flexing his abs and biceps. you're not sure if that was done on purpose.

and when he's there to help you change, blow-dry your hair, and do your skincare with him, and brush your teeth, you don't complain.

he's just making up for lost time anyway.

caleb craze is real (please let it be the 22nd NOW PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

i love love love love angst but because i have work tomorrow (it's going to be so busy at the clinic please pray for me) i needed this.

[zorilleerrant]

"You consider me your priestess?" the girl - the old woman, now, but you can still see her rosy cheeks the first time she came to visit you - asks you. It's hard to determine her tone of voice. She doesn't sound offended, at least, although she also doesn't sound like she believes you're a god. That, at least, is expected.

You wave your hand vaguely. You didn't get the gesture quite right, but humans always change their body language, and it's been too long since you needed to be human for anything. "It's not that you are. But you're the closest I've had in generations, and I would mark you one, if you want me to." You sit, casually, on a bench that wasn't there a moment before, hoping she'll do the same.

The old woman eyes it suspiciously. She's been here for every birthday since she found the place, and many informal days besides, and she knows there was never a bench here. Still, with a weary sigh, she sits beside you. "I'd like that, I think. I never had the test scores to join any of the big priesthoods. Get one over on them, a little bit." She laughs, and her teen years, writing scathing takedowns of theological papers, come back into view for a moment.

You touch her hand. There's a spark of magic. You don't need to, you never used to, but humans are more skeptical these days, and even your most devoted follower doesn't remember the old ways.

For a moment fleeting even by her standards, you wonder if she might have brought them back. But the fishing town isn't what it once was, and no one much makes the hike up here anymore, save curious children and nostalgic adults.

"Do you want me to do anything?" your priestess asks you, a wry smiling wrinkling the still plump curve of her cheeks. "Carry a sign, maybe? Rush into the town and curse their names for not giving you your due respect? I can do a mean scolding these days."

You laugh, hand still resting over hers. "If you like." The idea of her running among the fishmongers, giving over amulets with every sale, making rude gestures when they're refused, is incomparable. The only thing she really needs is The Book, though. You fold open your altar, the way she's done so many times, and bring out the box she admired enough to start polishing gently when she came to visit, telling you about her travels and her art.

"Oh, you again," your priestess says, in delight, laying a delicate hand on the smooth wood. "I learned woodworking and inlay because of you, you little scamp." When she draws her fingers down the sides, this time, the box opens, with a click she can barely hear. Her ears aren't what they once were. Her gasp is the same as it ever was, though, and she taps The Book reverently.

"I never had many rules, even back in the beginning," you tell her, opening the cover so she knows it's safe. "What ones I had don't matter so much, I think - although I'd ask you to be careful where you summon storms, if you try it." You don't know if she has the power for that, anymore. She delved deep into magic in her mid-life crisis, but you've rarely seen her use it since, and you don't know if hers has waned or blossomed in her twilight years.

She looks over the spells. She can read the annotations, still, at least. "It's a lot of power for one person." She flexes her fingers, summoning wisps of what might be the core of some major working, if she concentrated a little harder. "Would you mind if I taught these to people? Not to join your priesthood, mind, just so there could be a little more magic in the world."

You pause. You should have considered that. Many of your siblings have left their words and their magics to the world as their respect faded away, and even more have begun recovery as lost arts. You didn't know your priestess was a teacher. You knew she'd taught a few times, when the calling struck her, but never that she felt the need in her heart. "Of course," you say. The spells are mostly weak now, you think. The time for hiding them is long past. If there's something in there that can help, so be it.

She grins at you. Her teeth are still hardy, and the candlelight flashes pleasingly against them. "Of course you'd mind, or of course you wouldn't? Don't give me any loopholes, now, Your Divinity," she laughs at her own joke, the way she started doing when she broke free of childish attempts at maturity, but still, she waits for your answer, taking your hand in hers again.

"Share them however you'd like," you tell her, knowing that it means she'll record it down to scans and recreations, "the knowledge within is yours." It's clear she'll get years of delight out of it. You don't know how much she might change the world of the handful of enthusiasts she chooses to work with her. It's a nice bookend for a life full of adventure, you think, a discovery like that.

She kisses the book, gently, on the gilded cover. Then, almost as an afterthought, she kisses your cheek as well. "Thank you," she says. Then she opens it again, absorbed in the pages, well past when the evening grows dark. You keep the candles burning higher for her, so she never has to stop her perusal. It's soothing, to watch a priestess once again hard at work. She looks up. "Is this the gift?"

"What?" you ask, caught off guard. Even through all your disciples, you never managed to learn which times connect to each other in the mind of a human. You'd thought that question long forgotten, and hadn't planned on answering right now.

"The gift you said you wanted to give me. Is The Book the gift?" she asks, in confusion. Books are wonderful, powerful things, of course, but they aren't secret. Hidden, often, and protected, and sometimes held to only the most intimate of worshipers, but they're nothing unexpected, not for a deity to give.

You lean back on the bench you never rose from, and wonder if you should bring in desks for those she plans to teach. "No. I was going to offer you your choice of afterlife, when the time comes." You watch her as she frowns. You wonder if she already has an answer in mind. You wonder if she knew since she was knee high with a scraped arm, or since she was a teenager bent on escaping her classmates, or since she was learning to grow and just choosing her passion. She just looks at you, not answering.

Then, weary minutes later - weary for her, where each night brings aches the day didn't; you're happy to wait - she asks, almost rudely, "not soon, I hope?" Her chin juts out as it used to.

"Not so soon for you," you say, thoughtfully, "although too soon for me, I must admit."

She nods, still cradling The Book carefully. "I thought, once you'd made me your priestess, I'd end up going where all your servants go," she says, sounding, of all thing, patient about it. You don't know how much she knows about your afterlife. You've never discussed it with her. Even when you were popular, once, that was never much of the details that caught people's eye.

"Normally only monks go there," you say, not that you'd discourage her, if she wanted to stay always by your side. "It's a place for quiet contemplation, mostly. Even of my priesthood, only the ones who valued their silence ever stayed." You can see her, in a long gown, roaming the halls in a circle, thinking. You can't see her enjoying it for more than a short time.

"You'd have to send me away," she says, ruefully. Then she pauses to think. "You won't pick for me? I can pick?"

Still, you think, she might have you picking her home, anyway. So many of yours did. Even the ones who earned the highest honors left everything in your hands, and here she is a priestess of moments only, ready to upset everything. Or nothing, if you ask her not to. You close her hands around The Book again.

"Think on it," you say, and wait for next year.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[cha-melodius]

#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Oh well, since you encouraged me... Something that's been on a mind since I've read your older brother!Dick I just keep thinking of the incest potencial... Even with the more than controversial ages

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! 18+ THEMES, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, GN reader, fauxcest, age gap, toxic dynamic, noncon, making out, disgusting touching, brief hints of sexual content, general yandere fuckery, manipulation, kind of grooming(?), controlling behaviors, poor reader trying to cope so hard.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA—

Don’t worry, pooks, I saw all of your other asks about this idea and I’ll try to remember to hit all of the points you bring up. I just wanna keep it all in one place.

ALSO, ALSO, ALSO, LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER ENJOYERS. HEY. HEY. LISTEN. If you’re not fucking with this ask and you don’t want the wholesome platonic dynamic you conjured in your brain ruined for you, DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER. LIKE, AT ALL. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You literally clocked me so badddd. Yes, the undertones in that series are 100% intended. I’m not gonna add anything overtly incestuous, but like… the subtext is there for the freaks to pick up on. Platonic incest where the lines blur every now and then, I love you so much.

Anyways, lemme get to yapping for real.

If we’re going to vaguely follow the Life With Older Brother series, Dick suddenly being so friendly to you would be… a little bit jarring. But try to think about it from his perfective: he wasn’t really there for Jason, and the thought of failing another younger sibling is too much to handle. Maybe he’s just trying to be more present for you. As weird as he may come off, you should at least give him a chance.

The beginning isn’t all that bad. Even if he’s relatively new to the older brother thing, you can tell he’s trying his best, and dare you say it, he’s actually fun to hang out with. Playing video games, going out for ice cream, trashy movie marathons… it almost makes you forget about those weirder behaviors. Almost.

Now, one thing you quickly noticed is how touchy-feely he is. Whenever you’re together, it seems like he’s always got sort of body part touching you one way or another. Sometimes, it’s subtle: a knee resting against yours, a very quick head-pat, his hand brushing against you as he gestures at something. Nothing all that noticeable unless if you’re very sensitive to touch. But then there are times where it’s a little more… overt. Like when he slings an arm around your shoulders. Or when he holds your hand while out and about. Or when pulls you against his side by your waste when it’s a crowded area. Every now and then, you find yourself wondering if this is normal. Do siblings usually touch each other so often? It kind of makes sense, but… considering you haven’t even been siblings for a full year, should he really be this comfortable around you yet?

If you think you can set boundaries with him, good fucking luck. He might’ve made it seem like he was hearing you out, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it with the touching. Okay… maybe this is something he really can’t help. As annoying — and weird… and uncomfortable — it may be, you’ll probably just have to suck it up and get used to it. Some people are just very handsy. But not like that! Oh my god, no. Dick’s Nightwing; a good guy, for Christ’s sake. He would never do anything like that!

(… Right?)

Here’s the thing about platonic physical affection: how weird can it get before people finally draw the line? Is it forehead kisses? Hugging someone by the waist? Having them sit in your lap whenever the opportunity arises? Are any of those things actually weird, or does Dick somehow make them weird? Because, yes, he still most definitely acts like an older brother — he certainly teases you like one, and you constantly have to fight against the urge to bite him like a feral weasel — but the touching… well… maybe familial affection is just a concept foreign to you (thanks in no small part to Bruce), but Dick somehow makes it feel like something else.

And you’ll admit; you don’t actually know what that something else is. All you know is that you’re pretty sure big brothers do not do that gentle, extremely intimate thumb-stroke thing to their little sibling’s face before a forehead kiss. And they also do not come up from behind their little sibling for a hug.

And the lap thing?

That was probably the turning point.

Because what older brother has their little sibling sit on their lap while watching TV? One hand on your hip, the other on your thigh… he’s doing that weirdly intimate thumb stroke thing on your bare skin, and all you can do is sit there and think, oh… I don’t like this. If you’re brave enough to ask him what he’s doing, he’ll play dumb. Hm? What do you mean, kiddo? He’s not doing anything… what are you talking about?

Before you can even begin to express how uncomfortable you are, however, his fingers start toying with the hem of your shit. You’re acutely aware of his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your torso, sending an uneasy shiver up your spine. Dick’s no stranger to touching your waist area, and while you still don’t really like it that much, you’ve gotten used to it. But this? Something about the actual skin on skin contact makes you freeze up entirely.

“You know,” Dick would thoughtfully begin, “I’m probably the luckiest big brother in the world. I don’t think you realize just how cute you are, (Y/N).”

His hand then inches its way up your shit.

BadbadbadbadbadbaDBADBADBADBAD—

Don’t bother fighting back. Don’t bother yelling at him. Don’t even bother squirming as he gently begins to run circles into the skin under your shirt. His grip on your thigh is like iron, holding you down to his lap and making any struggle futile. In fact, if I were to venture a guess, you’d probably be too petrified to even move, the shock of the moment rendering you completely immobile. This was supposed to be your big brother; yes, he’s a bit weird and overprotective, but he’s still your fucking big brother. And while your knowledge on big brothers may be extremely limited, you know for a fact that this is crossing a line.

Your faces become closer and closer until his breath is ghosting against your lips. “I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

You don’t dare to offer him a response. Hell, you don’t even know what you could say to that. The only thing filling your brain is the brazen warning bells screaming for you to get the fuck away from him. Except you can’t. For whatever reason, your body’s frozen in place, limbs weighing you down like heavy ice blocks.

You can’t move.

You can’t fucking move.

And, of course… he takes advantage of that.

By the time his lips softly plant themselves on yours, it’s too late. The lines between platonic and whatever the fuck this is have long been crossed, and you can never go back to pretending like everything is normal between you two. All of the subtle warning signs you opted to ignore were now blaring in your mind like loud sirens, almost mocking the fact that you didn’t fucking trust yourself.

This can’t be happening. This absolutely can’t be happening. You thought of this creep as your big brother; was this really the same guy that helped you with homework and let you play games on his laptop? Was this really the same guy under the Nightwing mask?

While the kiss evolves into something a little more passionate, he doesn’t take it too far. Just a gentle make-out session with roaming hands. He ends it by holding you against his chest, seemingly content with just occasionally peppering kisses to your face for the next hour or so. Neither of you say anything during this time. Even if you want to yell at him and demand why the fuck he did that, you’re too shocked to even form a coherent thought.

The man you thought could be your big brother is a massive fucking creep.

You think you’re going to be sick.

He doesn’t go out for patrol that night. Instead, he simply picks you up and carries you to his room, dressing you in his clothes for bed. You’re still trying to process the humiliation of letting this all happen as he slips you under the sheets with him and cuddles up to you. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night. How the fuck could it? Not only do you have that stupid fucking kiss haunting you, but now you have this sicko’s hand playing with the waistband of your shorts (his shorts), and god. You’re not sure how you didn’t throw up then and there.

So. What happens afterwards? Well, first off, no more phone. Dick’s not an idiot; he knows the lines he crossed that evening and would rather you not call Bruce or Alfred or the police. You’re also not allowed on his laptop unless if he’s supervising you, and your ass is not going outside anytime soon. Then we have the gross shit… yeah, now that he’s had a taste, he’s gonna be all over you. It won’t go that far just yet — he’d rather ease you into that territory, much like what he’s been doing before — but it can get a bit steamy. At least for him. You might still be grossed out over all this or whatever.

You know what the worst part is? He still has the audacity to act like your older brother. It doesn’t matter how many times he touches you or forces you to kiss him: he’ll call you kiddo through it all and offer to play some video games afterwards. In fact, are times where you both return to your previous sibling banter and you can almost convince yourself that things are totally fine. There you go again, falling for his meticulously set up trap.

This new dynamic might take some time to get used to, but Dick will try his damned hardest to make it seem natural. So what if Big Brother sometimes wants to pin his cute little sibling against the counter and leave love bites on their neck? Sometimes, it just has to happen. No harm, no foul. This could be normal if you stopped being so weird about it, you know.

And, you know what… you may find yourself finally accepting that this is your new normal. What else are you supposed to do? You can’t call anyone, you can’t run away, you can’t even fight back because he was trained by fucking Batman… you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but maybe you can make peace with it. This is nothing more than an annoyance from your big brother. That’s all. It’s not him grooming you. It’s not him taking advantage of you. It’s just him being a little irritating at times. Ignore the urge to throw up… ignore how your skin crawls whenever he’s near you… every sibling has their flaw, and being a total creep is Dick’s.

You’d probably begin to despise Bruce a little, too. Did he know how fucked up his former ward is? Or is the exact same way? Guess you’ll never know, because the man can’t even bother to check up on you. He essentially took you out of the system and threw you into the den of a wolf, subjecting you to a new personal hell you can’t even escape from. And Alfred… you thought he actually cared. Is he not concerned about the sudden radio silence on your end?

You really can’t help but wonder if anyone even thinks about you outside of the apartment, and with Dick being in control of what information he feeds to Bruce over the phone, all you can do is guess at this point. In the meantime, Big Brother just came back and needs a hug… why don’t you come on over to the couch, kiddo?

Ugh. There are so many fucking directions I can go in from here. You mentioned Bruce (or eventually Tim) becoming suspicious and finding out what’s going on, and GRRRRR. SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I need to write a blurb about this. It’s so addicting. I just had to get some of the base ideas on this out because this concept has been marinating in my brain for way too long. I’m not kidding, I was going to actually explode if I didn’t get to talk about this. I NEED MORE OF THIS TYPE OF SHIT.

[love-byers]

"Not Kids Anymore" connection

who ordered more byler music coding??

alright, so the OST song that plays during the byler rain fight is titled "Not Kids Anymore", obviously quoting mike's line "But we're not kids anymore." the line that triggers the song, so the line that changes/emphasizes the tone, is "It's not my fault you don't like girls!". it cuts to will's reaction and the music begins. i know we all know the rain fight by heart, but i'm gonna add the dialogue anyway

Mike: Will, come on. You can't leave, it's raining. Hey, I said I was sorry, alright? It's a cool campaign it's really cool! We're just not in the mood right now.

Will: Yeah, Mike, that's the problem, you guys are never in the mood anymore! You're ruining our party!

Mike: That's not true!

Will: Really? Where's Dustin right now?

Mike: ...

Will: See? You don't know, and you don't even care, and obviously he doesn't either, and I don't blame him! You're destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

Mike: El's not stupid! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Will: ...

Mike: I'm not trying to be a jerk. Okay? But we're not kids anymore. I mean what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Will: Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.

*Will gets on his bike and leaves*

Mike: Will. Will! Will come on!

we will come back to this in a moment

the only other time "Not Kids Anymore" has played is in s4 ep1. It plays when lucas dustin and mike are arguing over the basketball championship and hellfire. again i'm gonna show the entire convo just to have full context since it's pretty much all going to be relevant.

Lucas: I don't get the big deal. Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.

Dustin: "Just talk to Eddie."

Mike: Why don't you just talk to your coach and get him to move the game?

Dustin: I think that's a great idea, Mike!

Mike: Thank you, Dustin!

Lucas: This is the championship game!

Dustin: This is the end of Eddie's campaign! A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need you!

Mike: Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

Lucas: That's not the point.

Dustin: Please, arrive at the point.

Lucas: If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.

Mike: Has it ever occurred to you that we don't want to be popular?

Lucas: So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?

Dustin: We are nerds and freaks!

Lucas: Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Lucas: Look, I'm tired of being bullied. I'm tired of girls laughing at us. I'm tired of feeling like a loser. We came to high school wanting things to be different, right?

*Mike and Dustin nod*

Lucas: So now we have that chance. I skip tonight and that's all out the window. So I'm asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie, get him to move Hellfire. Come to my game. Please.

you're probably starting to see where i'm going with this lol

before i go into it i want to say that it is undeniable that these scenes are connected, clearly. there are over a hundred other songs in the ST OST albums and they chose this one. there is undoubtedly connections and subtext.

so clearly lucas is saying he is aware of the fact that he is a nerd/freak, but he doesn't want to be. he wants to get in with the popular crowd. hanging out with them and being on the basketball team despite always being on the bench is something he's doing on purpose, a choice he's making, because he wants to be perceived a certain way. he wants to be perceived as cool, as normal.

lucas is skipping out on dnd because he's trying to be normal.

so what's the connection here? is it just that lucas and mike both don't want to play dnd? cause that's not really the case, at least for lucas. he wants to play dnd, he just wants them to move it to a different night so he can go to the game. it's a cool campaign, it's really cool! we're just not in the mood right now.

lets compare some other lines from these two scenes

Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year. You're destroying everything, and for what?! So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

mike and will are both saying the sacrifice being made is stupid because the action is empty and boring and meaningless.

this also reminds me of that ted quote "You're on the bench, son." obviously talking to/about mike.

you could also look at it as will saying (not literally saying, but a coded way) that he actually needs mike while el does not, clearly, since all they do is make out meanwhile will genuinely loves mike and wants to connect with him. will needs mike. Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Yeah. I guess I did. I really did. We are nerds and freaks!

i feel like these are kind of self explanatory lol, i can't really think of anything to say about it

i guess the fact that they're both insinuating that this is what will happen to themselves if they don't act. lucas doesn't want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks, and mike doesn't want to be gay lmfao. dnd in mikes basement is canonically a metaphor for will's love for mike, so thats not delusional at all sorry

If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too. What did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends?

i've always found that mike line interesting. it's not the way someone who is in love talks about their bf/gf. mike didn't fall in love (at first sight), he got a girlfriend. he acquired a girlfriend. saying it like that kind of gives the implication that mike sees his relationship as an action that everyone must take at a certain point in their life, like it's just what you're supposed to do. that's what normal people do.

lucas knows what he is. he's a nerd, he's a freak, but wants to change. he wants to be perceived as cool and normal. and he is purposefully pulling away from his friends to spend time with other cool, normal people which will make him cool and normal too. and he wants his friends to want the same things he does.

Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

these are the lines that trigger the music, so the turning point of the scene, the climax. how are they similar? well, it seems like both of them are acknowledging a choice. lucas is acknowledging the choice of getting in with the popular crowd, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he has already made, and a choice he wants dustin and mike to make. soooo it seems like mike is acknowledging the choice of liking girls/dating girls, a choice he has already made, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he wants will to make (or is at least acknowledging that will has not made that choice yet, and that it's not mike's fault).

they are both acknowledging the choice to conform.

"It's forced confirming. That's what killing the kids. That's the real monster."

i will also point out the differences in the cinematography of these scenes. the rain fight is an over the shoulder (we can see the back of wills head and his shoulder in the corner) and is closer up than the s4 scene. the s4 scene is warm and colorful while the rain fight is pale and desaturated. that's color grading, which is all done in post production. basically, the rain fight is way more intimate and serious because this is an argument between two people who are in love, meanwhile the s4 scene is an argument between friends.

its also generally interesting that mike is in the both of these scenes, but on opposite sides. in the rain fight he is the one conforming, and in the s4 scene is anti-conformity. so if mike doesn't want to be popular, doesn't care if he's associated with nerds and freaks, proudly deems himself a nerd and freak, what was his deal in s3? easy question, he's queer. next

this parallel, in my opinion, carries over into another scene which i talked about in this post. it all makes a lot of sense tied together!

have a great day byler nation

[hyperbolicreverie]

an au of losing time where law is swapped with the younger version of himself that's already joined doflamingo

Ooh, fun. Snippet below the cut.

Penguin's not going to say it's the first time he's ever heard screaming and cursing coming from Law's room, but it's definitely the first time he's heard it at that pitch, and while Law generally likes to be left alone for most of his moods, it's different enough that Penguin considers the matter to warrant further attention.

So when he opens the door and a tiny ball of rage in a fluffy hat rolls out before he can even get a word of greeting past his lips, he resigns himself to it being more than an average Tuesday.

"Bepo?" he says a few minutes later, as he enters navigation. "When you said our path was going to take us close to Kairos Island today, how close exactly did you mean?"

"Within sight distance," Bepo mumbles, turning away from his charts. "Why--oh."

Penguin knows he must look a sight, standing there with a miniature Law scruffed by his collar, and sporting a few cuts and a black eye where he hadn't been fast enough, but in his defense, their miniature captain had come out swinging with a scalpel he'd found in their Law's bedroom. Only the sturdiness of his coveralls and his own speed had kept him from being hamstrung.

"I will kill you. I will turn you inside out and when my crew finds me, they'll do even worse," his assailant is spitting, swinging like a pendulum from the end of Penguin's arm.

"Oh seas," Bepo whines, staring at the ceiling as if something there could save him. "Doflamingo?"

"Doflamingo," Penguin confirms. There was no mistaking it; he'd been threatened with retribution at the hands of the Heavenly Demon at least a dozen times on the walk here. "Aren't we the lucky ones?"

"I didn't know the island could do that," Bepo mutters, sighing. "We didn't even touch ground."

"Maybe it awakened," Penguin grumbles, dodging a tiny foot aimed at his ribs. "In which case, I vote we never come back to this area of the Grand Line ever again. Tiny Law was at least tolerable, but you remember what he was like in his early teens."

Tiny Law stops squirming for a moment. "The fuck you mean, the Grand Line?" he demands. "I was in Spider Miles!"

Penguin sighs. "Look, kid," he starts. "We're going to go to the galley and get you some food and water. You are going to behave yourself, because we--" He points Law's face in the direction of the nearest porthole "--are underwater, and I don't know about you, but I don't fancy getting crushed and drowned today, and I know for a fact that I'm a much better swimmer than you. And then," he stresses, when Law makes a motion to argue even further. "We will explain what is going on."

"He's not going to believe it," Bepo points out morosely.

"Of course he won't believe it," Penguin scoffs. "At this point, I am offended that I have no choice but to believe in it. It's stupid. It's a fucking island."

"You two are pretty shitty kidnappers, you know that, right?" the gremlin in Penguin's hand points out.

Penguin sighs again. He hopes their Law is having a better time of it. Or at least not panicking. But given where the kid had clearly come from, Penguin wouldn't bet on it being quiet.

Meanwhile...

The man who had appeared out of nowhere at the Family dinner table, taken one look at where he was and launched into the most terrifying display of devil fruit prowess that Rosinante had ever been privileged to witness looked strangely familiar, but he was having a bit of trouble concentrating on why exactly that was.

He had noticed that every time he tried to do something he found himself turned around, or his bullets redirected somewhere else. All the kids had been neatly stacked in a corner too, though the stranger seems to have managed to tie them to their chairs without using his hands.

The rest of the Family was...not so lucky.

Doflamingo in particular was getting the brunt of it, and Rosinante had lost count of the number of pieces he was in now. It was hard to keep track of them when the air was full of pieces of multiple people. Multiple, somehow still alive people.

Eventually, whatever adrenaline is powering this impressive display wears off, and the man slumps bonelessly into the nearest chair. He takes off his hat and runs one long-fingered hand through dark hair, muttering something about islands and devil fruits and his luck, which he seems to think is poor, despite what he'd just done.

Despite being dismembered in ways Doffy could only dream of replicating so cleanly, his brother is laying into the stranger, promising retribution with a familiar grandiosity that Rosinante can't help but think rings a bit hollow when your head is sitting on a literal silver platter on the dinner table like a side of beef.

The man seems to agree, because he points at Doffy's head, not even bothering to look at him.

"Re:Room. Silent."

The resulting effects are so like Rosinante's own power that he forgets himself, making a choking noise of surprise that's a bit too audible for a purported mute.

The stranger looks up at him, and Rosinante is caught by the look in his eyes. Familiar, and yet not. Angry, but for some reason not at him.

"Sorry, Cora," he says, and it feels almost sheepish. Totally unlike the fury he'd seen before. Now the man just looks tired, and exasperated. "If I promise to explain, do you think you could call Sengoku? Impel Down's feeling a bit empty."

Rosinante feels his mouth open and close. How does this man know him, know Sengoku? Is he another undercover operative? A CP agent? Did Sengoku just get sick of how long this mission was taking and send someone for backup? He'd at least have appreciated a heads up if that were the case.

But from the way Doffy is silently screaming in both their directions now, his cover seems blown anyway, so...maybe he doesn't antagonize the superpowered man with the dangerous hands? Being done with this mission does sound appealing, regardless.

And where did Law sneak off to, anyway?

"Yeah, okay."

[plaidpajamallama]

(You scared me) RHEA RIPLEY X JEY USO

Chapter 25

_________________________________________________

Rhea was sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car. Damian got they were on their way to the Intuit Dome.

The music from her playlist blasting over the radio as she stared out the window

She felt nervous about what the day would bring.

This was her last shot at her title; if she lost this, then it was over. It was Liv’s, and she would have to move on and accept it.

She turned to Damian. You think I can do it?

He turned down the music, looking over at her. Yeah, you're going to win.

And if I don’t?

And if you don’t, then you find something else, something better. There’s a whole new title to go after; there’s Tiffy the Rumble. Besides, you never needed a title to be the best; you just are the best. Rhea

She grabbed his arm, laying her head against it. Thank you.

No problem. For the record, you're going to win.

She sighed. It’s going to be a long day.

Yeah, it is, but I don't have anything to do, so if you need me—

I’ll come find you, she cut in.

Thank you, and please don’t just run off after your match with Jey.

I won’t. She chuckled, letting go of his arm. I don’t think there will be any running off tonight.

He looked at her with a confused expression. What happened? What did he do?

Nothing; he didn’t do anything! She said quickly. He’s just got a lot going on with Roman right now, so we’ll see what happens tonight.

She sank into her seat, resting her head against the window. She was a little worried about what might happen; this whole day could end horribly.

Not just could she lose her final shot at what was rightfully hers; she knew she took the first shot at Liv, but Liv took more than was fair, and now this was the end. What happens happens if she lost; it was over, and if she won, she was finally done with all of it.

Then on the other side she had to worry about Jey.

Not just in his match; she believed in him. He could handle Drew; she knew Drew pretty well from when he helped them out in war games.

She would bet good money on Drew letting his emotions get the best of him.

But then she could say the same for Jey; there was a lot on his mind right now.

She wasn’t sure when they would talk to Roman, but if that was anytime before his match, whatever Roman says will affect him in the ring.

She kept making up different scenarios in her head of how this whole thing might go.

She knew some of the things Roman did, but she didn’t know the full extent of said things until she got with Jey, and he told her.

He never said it exactly, but just the way he spoke told her enough about what happened when he was in the bloodline.

This was eating at him, and she couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

none of this would’ve happened if she didn’t make some big deal out of it If she didn’t pick a fight with him about him not fucking talking to her, then they wouldn’t be here. Jey wouldn’t be going through all of this right now.

She let out a sigh, her breath fogging up the window.

God, she shouldn’t blame herself; if she told him any of that, he would be even more upset that she ever thought, even for a minute, that it was her fault.

She heard the music stop, and all of a sudden, she picked her head up off the window.

The screen on the dashboard lit up with a text from Jey saying they made it to the arena.

He slid his phone back in his pocket as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk before slamming it down.

He told Roman that they needed to talk sometime before he left.

He had gotten there a little early since he had to do something before the actual show along with the normal thing he always had to do.

This day wasn’t all bad, though he not only was going to beat Drew’s ass, he also got the opportunity to walk out with Travis Scott.

So if shit went bad with Roman, at least he had that to look forward to, and he means Rhea winning what was hers, of course.

He pushed through the back doors of the arena. Waving at the security guards standing out front as he passed

He was excited for Rhea; she had this one. There was no doubt in his mind she was going to walk out tonight empty-handed. He had no doubt in Roman winning either; he believed in Solo; he was going to give him a run for his money. for sure

But Roman was going to win, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Solo may not have been the best, but he surely was as bad as Roman.

Everyone in Solo’s bloodline was there because they wanted to be, not because they were forced to be.

Roman has been drunk on power ever since he got it. Before he got it, he was now getting humble. He thought about all the time Roman got knocked on his ass while he walked down the long hallway.

Rhea was sitting with her eyes closed as she got her makeup done.

As the show got closer and closer, she could feel her nerves creeping up but also her adrenaline

If this really was the end, she was going to fight like hell to win. If Dom and Raquel felt the need to intervene, then she would take care of them to

Nothing or nobody was going to stop her from winning tonight.

Hey, babygirl, it’s good to finally see you. He sat down at one of the vanities along the wall.

She smiled. I wish I could see you.

You look beautiful, Mama.

And I’m not even done yet. Claire chimed in.

Don’t feed his crazy

It’s not crazy if it’s true; you're beautiful, right?

Oh yes, you look beautiful, and you will only get more beautiful from here.

She laughed at both of them. Do you need something, love?

I just wanted to see you. I've been busy; I had to work the red carpet. You know he popped his collar.

Oh! I know, and I don’t know if I appreciate you showing everybody what’s mine.

People see all that all the time; it ain’t new. Now all that other shit, yes, it’s yours.

As long as you know it, I would hate to have to show you, she said sultrily.

She smiled to herself when she heard him get quiet; she could feel Claire smiling back at her.

This wasn’t the worst thing she had overheard in these chairs; shit, this wasn’t the worst thing she had even seen in these chairs.

She heard him clear his throat as he stood up.

The devil is a lie, he said before walking by her.

She grabbed his hand. Hey, when do you need me? She said gently.

Um, after you get done here, if that’s cool?

Yeah, of course, I’ll come find you. She brought his hand up, placing a kiss on it.

See you in a bit, Mama, he said, walking away.

I think I like him more than Dom. He’s much better to look at, that’s for sure.

She laughed, Ooh, by a long shot.

Ok, now stay still so I can finish.

It didn’t take long for Claire to finish her makeup. A purple look with a black lip, as always. She already had on her gear, so she just needed to get her hair done, but she would do that after everything with Jey.

She met him outside the man’s locker before walking to Roman’s

She checked with him one last time if he wanted her there before they made it; he told her he wanted her there before knocking on the door. Heyman answered the door and let them in.

As soon as they walked in, the air was thick with tension. Roman was sitting back in his chair, manspreading, rubbing his wrist in his hand.

He had on his ring gear along with his gloves.

She had seen him before, but in this light he was even more intimidating than he was in the ring.

They sat down on the couch, his hand letting go of hers as he clasped his together.

Heyman sat down on the couch on the side closest to Roman.

She had forgotten how loyal he was to him; he found it a little weird then, and she still found it weird now.

So what do you want? Roman seemed already tired of this conversation.

Why lie if you already know about us, uce?

Because you wanted to tell me, so I let you.

He sucked his teeth. You let me?

Yeah, you made a big deal about telling me, so I let you

You could have told me after I told you.

Maybe I was, but you ran away.

He scoffed, I ran away? I walked away because you were being an asshole, uce.

He scowled. Jay I told you I don’t care about all this he gestured between him and Rhea. I was just looking out for you.

Looking out for what? You haven't been here. What were you going to do, uce? You haven't even been here to handle your business, he said, annoyed.

Roman sat up in his chair, leaning forward, his arms hanging off his knees.

See, Jey, you always get caught up in your emotions.

He scoffed, Here we fucking go, he muffled under his breath.

This isn’t about you and her; it’s about business.

What fucking business!? I don’t work with your ass anymore; you don’t get to decide what I do! I’m a grown ass man; I can do whatever I want!

You don’t act like one, Roman said weirdly calm. You don’t get it, do you, Jey? Everything I do is to take care of you.

Bullshit!

He ran a hand over his chin, letting out a frustrated sigh. You can think whatever you want, but that's the truth: the Wiseman only looked into the her for you.

I didn’t ask your ass to do that shit, uce!

Roman looked him dead in his eyes because that's what family does, Jey; they try to help each other even when they don’t want it.

He ran his hand over his face. There you go with your bullshit again, Uce, he said as he stood up.

Roman stood up to meet him; he didn’t say anything, just looked at him, and that’s all it took before he started to avoid his gaze, finding anything else to look at.

I was just looking out for you, Jey. I just wanted to make sure you were happy, but all you want to do is fight. I’m fighting for this family. In 20 minutes, we both agreed that Solo can’t do that yet.

He’s not ready, he said softly, but maybe one day you’ll be ready. But if you keep acting like a goddamn child and picking fights, you won’t be, so get it together! He didn’t yell or raise his voice; he kept his voice soft and calm, but the bass in it hit him in his chest.

I don’t want to see you until you beat Drew, and if you lose, I don’t want to see you at all.

He shoved him back, his heels hitting the front of the couch.

He didn’t respond, just nodded before storming out the door, hitting the wall behind it.

Rhea stood up to walk out after him, but Roman stopped her, putting his arm across the doorway.

She looked up at him in his eyes. Move She said confidently, which seemed to catch him a bit off guard.

He eyed her down before moving his arm out of her way.

She walked out mumbling under her breath, as she did so, she walked down the hallway looking for Jey. She found him sitting on a crate with his head in his hands.

Baby, she put her hand on his back. She was about to ask if he was okay, but she already knew the answer to that question.

Baby, it’s fine.

He let out a breath through his hands. No, it’s not. I let him get to me, and now

Don’t worry about that, my love; just focus on Drew. That’s all you have to worry about tonight.

She bent down in front of him, putting her hand on his knee. Okay?

He’s moved his hands away from his face, looking down at her. I just need a minute, Mama.

Okay, I have to go get ready for my match. It’s after his, so I’ll probably see you after yours.

Okay, he kissed the top of her head before she stood up, walking away.

He let out a deep breath, falling back against the wall.

He couldn’t believe he let Roman get to him like that; it brought him right back to all the times before when he had put him in his place.

But now he was on the same level as him. Shit, he let him walk out last at war games.

But he so quickly brought him down back to the level he thought he belonged at.

It was funny, actually, that he thought they could have a normal conversation.

He was so damn confused why he was making such a big deal out of this for no fucking reason.

It’s not like he told him to sit down and have a talk with her, but he wanted to bring her around without it being weird, but maybe he was asking for too much.

He cleared his throat, hopping off the crate. He needed to get started getting ready for his match, and sitting around thinking about Roman wasn’t going to do that.

_________________________________________________

Rhea ran to go find Damian; she finally got her baby back, and she was over the moon.

It didn’t take long for her to find Damian; he was coming to find her as well.

She jumped up into his arms, her title hitting against his back.

So many emotions were running through her right now: happiness, sadness, just a mix of emotions.

I knew you could do it, he said, wrapping his arms around her to hold her up.

She could feel tears welling up in the corner of her eyes, tears of happiness.

She couldn’t believe it that she was finally champion again, that the title was hers; she wasn’t just holding it because Liv dropped it.

It was hers, actually hers; it was in its rightful place, and it was never gonna leave her again.

She hopped down, feeling off balance; her legs felt like they were going to buckle at any moment.

Damian grabbed her by her shoulders. You good?

Yeah, I think I’m just in shock, she said with a nervous giggle.

Ok, here, sit down. They moved to the side of the wall. She slid down the wall, sitting on the floor.

He sat down next to her, putting his hand on her knee.

You see me out there? You see my new friend?

She said teasing him

You are never going to not rub that in my face, huh?

Nope, because I meet the Undertaker, she said in a sing-songy voice.

I hate you, he said, shoving her away.

She playfully scoffed. No, you love me, and soon enough we’re both going to have gold again.

She stood up off the ground. But for now you can hold mine if you want to fill the void.

I hope they lose your nameplates. He said, standing off the ground.

Oh wow, and I was going to let you do an interview with me, but

Oh come on, we’re going to be late, or do you want to go see Jey first?

No, he’s already set for his entrance. I’ll see him after his match.

Alright then, come on.

Jey walked through the curtains out of gorilla

He beat Drew; all that was behind him now.

He handled it just like he was supposed to.

He walked through the halls looking for where Rhea was.

He thought about going to see Roman, but that thought left his mind as fast as it came.

He found her with Damian, standing in front of a TV; she was bouncing off the walls.

Jumping up and down as the replay played on the screen

He sneaked up behind her, grabbing her waist, feeling the cold metal of her title under his hands.

She giggled, Hi, baby.

Hey, babygirl, you like my match? He asked with a smirk.

No! She hit him in his arm. You scared me half to death!

Okay, okay! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you, Mama. I’m good, alright?

Ok, just don’t do it again.

I won’t. He turned his attention to Damian. Sup, Uce? How you been? He said dapping him up

Good, just keeping an eye on this one, he ruffled her hair.

She pushed his hand off of her head. I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.

Alright, you did good out there, man.

Thanks, Uce, finally starting to put all this shit behind me.

I'm going to put this whole thing with Finn to rest next week.

Look at that; we're all moving on to better things. Rhea chimed in, Who would have thought, huh? She smiled.

Speaking on moving on, he said, Looking at Damian, give us a minute, Uce.

Yeah, see you guys in a bit, and please remember you both are on the press show, he yelled as he walked away, making her laugh.

Yeah, yeah, he said, waving him off.

He turned his attention back to her. You look good with that title, babygirl.

It should. That’s where it belongs, love.

I like my woman with gold. He said, his hands wrapping around her waist.

Mmm, we still have work to do, baby.

So fuck the press conference.

I thought you were going to enter in the rumble tonight?

I can do that next week on Raw.

Or you can do it when you’re supposed to, or are you that needy baby?

He felt a shiver down his spine as her words left her mouth; she had a smirk on her face as she moved her hands to his waistband, pulling him closer. Do you need Mami that bad baby? Or can you wait like a good boy? She said with a pout.

He felt his pants becoming tighter as she slipped her fingertips into his waistband.

I’ll wait, he said, stumbling over his words.

She raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He leaned closer to her, just inches above her ear. I can wait like a good boy.

His pants definitely felt tighter now he lifted his head up.

She had a pleased grin on her face. See, baby, you always make this so hard, she said with a giggle, sliding from under him and grabbing his hand.

Now let’s go find a place to watch the end of the show.

Damn you, you aren’t going to give me a second girl all that shit you just pulled.

You started it, baby, and I’ll finish it later, but for now we have shit to do, so come on, she said, pulling him down the hall to where Damian went.

Fine, fine, but can we stop by the locker room right quick, though?

Sure, whatever, baby.

Jey slid the keycard into the lock, throwing the door open, not caring where their suitcases went.

as they stumbled into their hotel room, their lips crashing into each other

He closed the door with his foot; the light from the hallway disappeared, leaving them in the dark.

His hands grabbed at her waist, her title still around it; she pulled off his shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Her hands roamed his body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went.

He pushed her up against the wall, beginning to take off her shirt; he tossed it on the floor before kissing and biting at her neck, pulling a moan out of her. She flipped him around, holding him against the wall.

They both took this opportunity to catch their breath, just the look of lust in their eyes.

Damn, babygirl, what you trying to do? he said in between his breaths

Mmm, I have a couple of things in mind. She said with a grin, moving her knee between his legs, pushing it against him.

Fuck Mami! his head hit the wall, his now aching cock trapped under her knee

You have been so needy lately, and I don’t know why, baby. Her knee pressing harder against his cock

Shit, he said breathlessly, slightly bucking his hips.

God, baby, people would think I have touched you in weeks with the way you're acting.

Mami I didn’t mean to—his words died in his mouth as he saw the look on her face.

I want you to take your pants off and go sit on the bed while I do something.

He said, "Okay, letting a whimper leave his lips as she took her knee away, turned around to get her suitcase, but realized they were still in the dark. And get the light too, love.

She heard a click before yellow light filled their hotel suite. She chuckled seeing their suitcases just thrown in front of the door.

She rolled them into the living area in front of the coffee table, laying hers on the floor and unzipping it as she heard his shoes hit the ground.

She slipped off her shoes, then took off her pants, leaving her in just her bra and panties, her title hanging low on her hips.

She walked around the room diviner seeing Jey lying on the bed with his hands under his head, watching TV in just his boxer briefs.

She leaned against the column of the diviner, her hands behind her back, eyeing his body as he lay there, her eyes tracing over him.

His skin shined under the yellow light from the lamp on the nightstand.

She could see a few faint marks on his chest that were later turned into bruises. If she didn’t know his body so well, they would go unnoticed due to all his tattoos covering his body.

She loved the way they looked; she followed them down the sides of his waist to the top of his underwear. There was a visual bulge in his boxers; they were high up on his thighs, showing off the rest of his tattoos. his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the ground

His eyes finally flickered over to her, the air getting trapped in his throat.

She sauntered over to the bed, swinging her hips.

You turned on the TV?

Didn’t know how long you were going to be

She crawled onto the bed.

Mmm, you look real good with that gold mama.

Thank you, she giggled, throwing her leg over his hip, straddling

Her fingers ran against his skin, giving him goosebumps as she leaned forward, kissing him.

Moving down his jawline and neck, leaving marks along them

Fuck, the cold metal pressed against his skin as she moved down his body; he winced as her hand touched his rib, subconsciously pulling away from her touch. Shit baby

Sorry, I didn’t mean to love you. Are you hurt? She sat up, her hands resting on her thighs.

No, I mean, yeah, but I’m not injured or shit.

But you are hurting? She said, eyeing the marks on his chest.

Yeah, just that spot, though these are just marks he gestured at himself.

So you’re ok? She said with a worried look.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her back over him, just inches away from his face. I’m okay, Mama. Do you still want to do this?

Yeah, I just didn’t want to hurt you.

You won’t Rhea. He said, hooking his finger under her chin, pulling her into a deep kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, making him groan into her mouth.

She grinded down on him, feeling him through the layers of cotton between them; she could feel the warmth between her thighs growing with each groan and moan that left them.

He grabbed her hips, pulling her down against him. She reached her hands behind his head into his hair.

You want me to take it off? He said, breaking their kiss, his hands going up her back.

Go ahead, she said, kissing and marking his neck.

He unhooked her bra. His fingers grazed her hot skin as he pulled down her bra straps, throwing it to the side.

God baby, you're so beautiful. his hands cupped her breast, causing the air in her throat to get stuck

She gave in to his touch, his big hands kneading her breast, his rough palms brushing against her hard nipples.

Her moans vibrated against his collarbone, going straight to his dick as he played with her

He moved his hands down to her hips under the leather strap of her title, grabbing her ass.

She pushed back into them. Take them off, baby. Fuck Mami, he groaned as she brushed against his hard, trapped cock.

She giggled as she brushed up against him again. I love those little sounds you make, baby.

He slipped her panties down her thighs, throwing them on the floor.

The cold air hitting her dripping pussy, she held herself up with one hand, using the other to tug down his boxers, his cock popping out over the waistband, falling against his stomach.

Oh, but I’m needy, he grinned.

She smacked her teeth. Shut up; she raised her hips up, lining him up with her, his tip rubbing against her cunt.

He threw his head back, feeling her warmth drawing him in, but she just held him there.

Mmm, Mami he said, coming out like a whine

Tell me what you want, baby.

Fuck I want you please right there, Mami, please, please, please.

She slowly sat down, throwing her head back at the feeling of herself stretching around him.

Shit, baby, you're so fucking tight.

She took all of his length inside her; she always forgot how big he was until she had to take him, feeling him deep in her gut.

She put her hands on his chest as she began to move her hips, both of them moaning at the new sensation.

Fuck Mami! He grabbed her thighs, his nails digging into her skin.

She leaned forward, her hands next to his head.

God, baby, you are full Mami up so well, you feel so good; she felt his cock twitch at her praise.

You're such a little praise slut, baby, she said with a grin. You would do anything I asked if I told you you were a good boy, wouldn’t you?

His nails dug into her skin deeper; his face contoured, his mouth fell open, but no words fell from it, just broken babbles.

God baby, I wish you could see yourself; you look amazing like this.

Every word that left her mouth was fuel to the fire; he couldn’t even think of the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as she moved her hips up and down.

He moved his hands up her waist, grabbing onto her title, his thumbs sliding under her title, touching her burning skin, his fingertips brushing against something.

Holy shit, baby! He shouted with one hand on her stomach and the other on her title.

She giggled, pushing her hair out of her face. I told you you were a big baby; she arched her back down. So big you almost split me in half the first time she whispered in his ear.

Fuck Mami, please, he moaned.

What love? She nipping at his ear

He sighed, Mami, come on.

Oh baby, if you can be needy, you can beg, so let me hear that beautiful needy voice of yours.

He threw his head back. Fuck Mami, please, just please

You can do better, love. Come on.

He groaned. Please, please let me cum. Mami, I’ll be good, so, so good, please. He gripped her hips tighter.

She felt the warmth in her stomach growing, her movements growing faster. Keep going, baby.

Please, please, I’ll listen. I’ll... I’ll fuck! Just please, Mami, I can’t. It’s shit! His words turned into a moan as she squeezed around him, her body shuddering as her orgasm rips through her. His following a second after

She fell down onto her elbows trying to catch her breath.

He brought his hand up onto her hair, pushing it out of her face. You good? He said in between breaths

Yeah, just need a sec.

He unclipped her title, pulling it out from under her, letting it fall to the floor. Here is that better?

Yeah, thank you. She kissed his cheek before raising up off of him with a gasp, lying down next to him.

What the fuck are we watching? She laughed.

I don’t know; I haven't really been paying attention like that, babygirl, he chuckled, standing up. I’ll be right back.

Ok, will you get me some water?

Yeah, of course.

He walked into the bathroom, grabbing a towel, wiping himself off, and catching a look in the mirror.

His chest was covered in marks along with his neck. Damn, babygirl, you fucked me up!

He flicked off the light walking into the kitchen. He set the cup down on the TV stand before crawling back on the bed in front of her.

We should really start putting a towel down or something.

Yeah, we should, but will we?

Not a chance. He stood back off the bed, grabbing her cup. Here, babygirl

She sat up. Thank you.

You want to take a shower?

No, I will take a bath, though my body's still sore.

Ok, I’ll draw us one where he kissed her forehead before walking away.

They sat in the triangle-shaped tub, both at different points. bubbles covering them

Don’t think I have taken a hot bath in years. Jey said his arms were lying on the sides of the tub.

It’s nice, plus I’m in it, so it helps her smile, her foot popping out above the water.

That does help, so what are you going to do now?

I don’t know. I’ve been chasing Liv’s ass for so long I don’t really know what’s next. I guess whatever comes my way. What about you? Who are you going to from when you win the rumble?

Don’t know shit; I might not even win.

She playfully scoffed. She splashed him in the face.

Girl! He turned his head to the side.

You’re gonna win!

Okay, damn girl.

Jay I’m serious; you're going to win. Don’t doubt yourself.

It’s not doubt; it’s just I don’t know, maybe it’s doubt. He rubbed the back of his neck.

You're gonna win, baby. I would bet good money on that shit; I would put my title on the line for that.

Ok, don’t be crazy, Rhea. You just got that shit back; don’t risk it.

I’m not. I’m just saying if you act like you already lost, then you're going to lose.

I know, I know.

So say it, say you're gonna win.

Are you serious?

Dead, she said, straight-faced.

He chuckled, Really?

Come on, what you got? She nudged him with her foot.

I’m going to win the rumble. he said halfheartedly

Oh come on, you can do better; you just did a whole lot better. She said, her mouth curling into a grin.

I’m going to win the rumble, he said this time with more confidence but still not good enough.

Aw, it’s cute that you call that conviction, and you were a heel for years.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer. I’m gonna win the fucking rumble and beat both Cody and Gunther’s asses this time, saying it like he believed it this time.

See, I knew you had it in you.

He sucked his teeth. Girl, get on; he playfully pushed her back down.

She laughed settling back down against the edge of the tub Baby, can we talk about this morning?

He sighed, his body tensed up. He didn't want to talk about that shit.

Jey, if I knew that would’ve happened, I wouldn’t have told you to talk to him; I would’ve dropped it immediately. She sat up, putting her hand over his.

It’s not your fault, babygirl; he’s just like that.

I know just I wouldn’t have pushed you—

You didn’t push me to do shit, Rhea. He shifted, running his hand over his face. I wanted to talk to him; I just needed a little help to get there. I told you Roman was an asshole.

Jey, that’s not just him being an asshole; that’s-

I know what it is; his eyes flickered away from hers. I know what it’s called; he hung his head.

Then why take it? She moved forward, his knees in between her legs. Why put up with it?

Because he’s family, and if you don’t, it’s worse than what you saw—his voice cracking just a little, or you’re out of the family.

She grabbed his hand. My love

Seeing all that happened today showed her why Jey acted the way he did, why he would shut down, why he was so scared to lose her, and why he never wanted to talk to Roman or get involved with the bloodline again in the first place.

It was all trauma. Roman broke him and then put him back together the way he wanted.

My love It’s ok; I got you.

I know he put his hand over hers, gripping it tight.

I will never let Roman hurt you like that again, ok?

You can’t make promises like that, Rhea. he said, shaking his head

Yes, I can, because I mean it. She lifted his head up to look at her; there were tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. I will never let anything happen to you, my love.

He looked like he believed it, but the look behind his eyes looked like he didn’t want to trust it.

She brushed his hair out of his face. I love you, and I will always be here for you no matter what. You will never lose me. Do you understand me?

He nodded his head in response. Come here.

He said almost as a whisper, he moved his legs, making space for her.

She moved, sitting with her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close; she could feel his breath was a little shaky.

She knew his mind was racing; she rubbed his arm, her head falling against his shoulder.

I love you too.

_________________________________________________

Woo this one is long but I think it’s well deserved since it was the first raw on Netflix

Also i hate to say it but the next chapter will sadly be the end of their story (who knows what will happen down the line) I will probably do a one shot here or there but as a series this is the end I hope y’all still rock with me after this is over 🖤

[circular-jerkular]

Little Is A Dumb Word Anyways

The old man in this case is syscourse. I do not want to start shit with the individual linked here, but I think it's vitally important to discuss how atrocious these sources are, particularly as others have been in agreement with them. Here's a link to the post. Content warning for SA, as it's not tagged. This post isn't here to bitch about the user who posted this, however -- it's to dismantle the ideas they're presenting, which they keep presenting. Do not, for the love of God, fucking contact the user with this. It is blatantly obvious they do not want to hear it, and they've already received enough harassment at this point. They will not be convinced out of their misinformation by harassment, and I am very disappointed in everyone who chose to go after them. You are worse than the misinformation being spread.

I am not writing this for you, OP, and genuinely, if you happen to read this, I hope you (and your thumb, I saw about your hospital visit) are doing alright.

But I figure the general syscourse community needs to be able to discern real information from... what you posted. Because you're trying to pass your opinion off as fact using illegitimate sources that don't actually support what you're saying. And that's something that does need addressed.

TW for, well uh, trauma discussions, lol. Also, please excuse the color coding -- it's needed for me to process just what on Earth I'm writing.

STEP ONE: SOURCE REVIEW

So, let's talk about the sources OP uses here first!

Source One: The Mighty

To start, their first source is from The Mighty, which is a newletter opinion article website dedicated to mental health. This particular article is someone discussing "every type of alter role," though they only actually depict 10. What a lovely article this is, which:

Assumes every system has a host

Discusses types of alters but not really "roles" as depicted in medical literature (such as "animal," "dead," and "demonic," as well as little, as none of those re actually 'roles')

States that demonic alters "come about by the host blaming the abuse on a supernatural being or the abuser using it as a reason to hurt the child." This is not universal and is not even the case for most demonic alters I see.

Uses the term fictive, which is not a medical term for the role. Also doesn't mention factual introjects, which used to be one of the most common types of introjects in systems (or at least were cited as that at one point, I distinctly recall that).

Assumes every system has gatekeepers

Simply put, this is all the opinion of one system, based on their own experiences. They have no sources, they have no claims beyond their own ideas, and while what they say is perfectly valid for their system, it doesn't fit mine. For instance: My demonic alters did not form from supernatural beliefs and have their own actual roles beyond being demonic, I have no host and no gatekeepers, and I have no fictives but I do have fictional introjects (I do not use the term fictive). This article is almost entirely useless to understand my system.

So, what do they say about littles? "Unlike biological children, they can usually understand very complex concepts." So littles are not biological children and can understand complex concepts (yknow, like consent). "They commonly speak and act like children." Commonly, but not always. "They can be a version of the host as a child, the child that was wanted, or just a trauma-free version of the host." None of these options actually describe my littles in the slightest. And the rest of the description is entirely personal information about their own system.

In general, this source is entirely based on personal information and what the individual has gleaned from their experiences with systemhood. I could just as easily post my own "10 types of alters in systems" and include my dreamway part and the two created alters, along with "elf alters," since I have one. I could also depict littles as my own are represented, which would be something like "Unlike biological children, they usually understand very complex concepts. They rarely speak like actual children or act like actual children. They're sometimes younger versions of various parts in the system, or are meant to hold the trauma of maturity. Part of their healing is reclaiming childhood, but part of it is reclaiming the sexual freedom that was stolen from them." Cause, well, that's my experiences.

Source Two: The Dissociative System Fandom Wiki

Their next source is the... fandom... wikipedia for Dissociative Systems. I did not even realize they made a fandom page for my disorder.

Interesting choices all around.

Anyways, I don't think I need to explain how inaccurate a wikipedia page can be. This is not a scholarly source; there aren't any references to back up the ideas presented in this very short article, and the edit history could be literally anyone with internet access. A little themselves could've written this article.

So, what does this source say? "A little is a type of alter that takes on characteristics of a child." Vague, but I suppose that works. "They may appear younger in the innerworld and often act like a little kid." May appear younger, but not necessarily will appear younger. Often act like a little kid, but not always. "Each system's littles are different in what they can and cannot do. Some littles may be able to drive or work while others cannot." Oh. Okay, so every system works differently, and some littles may do adult tasks. "It is important to treat each little differently depending on what they need." Oh, awesome, so this article acknowledges that some littles will need something different. My littles require sexual things in order to heal, so that's awesome that this article acknowledges those cases! "A little often is a traumatized young part that hold onto the memories of abuse the system suffered during that age, but not always." Yep, my littles are not that. Actually, it's mostly me (Rice) who holds onto that! So nice that this article shows that. "A little tends to be between the ages of 0-10 years old, but different systems may use a different age scale to define who is a little in their system." That's the last bit -- acknowledgement that different sysems define littles differently than just 0-10 -- which is nice, since we count our ageslider who is usually 21 when he fronts now, and our 12 (13?) year old.

So, overall, this article can be summarized with, "Every system is different, so treat littles the way they need to be treated for each individual system."

Source Three: Trauma Dissociation Dot Com

Finally, a fairly decent source. At the very least, this website cites the information it provides, which is a damn step up from the last two. Unfortunately, I cannot find much information about the site managers, but I can find that the aim of this website is, essentially, summarizing information from medical sources. Not bad! I would love if someone with more free time could dig into this one a little bit!

The linked article is long. And of course, with any long piece of DID information, I definitely disagree with some of what it posits. For instance: "All the alters together make up the person's whole personality." This idea, presented with this wording, can be incredibly confusing for systems -- this information was presented to me to mean that we all had to fuse together in order to be a true person, when really, it simply means each alter in the system as a whole is responsible for the outward personality presented to others. I do wish it were rephrased!

To keep a long article short, let's see what this says about littles:

"Often nicknamed "littles" or "little ones" are a common type of alter. Several child alters exist in most people with DID." So far, so good; many DID systems experience having littles in their system. "Child alters often talk in a child-like way, but unlike a biological child they can normally understand abstract concepts and long words." Mm, abstract concepts, such as consent. They are unlike biological children. "They are often found to hold memories of child abuse which occurred at around the age the child alter feels he/she is. [7]:18" Often, but not always. Mine do not have those experiences! "Some may have the speech or appearance of a very young child, the youngest being unable to talk, read or write. [7]:18" Glad none of mine are like that, and that it acknowledges that only some child alters are like this. "Child alters may gradually age of may remain the same age. Some child parts may hold feelings of terror and pain, while others may be playful and fun-living and have only positive memories. [16]:60 A child alter may also be an idealized representation of the "perfect child" from the "perfect" family, for example the "good boy". [7]:18" (Emphasis mine). So, repeatedly, this article also acknowledges that all of this is subjective to the specific system's experience. It's an overview and nothing more.

TL;DR: Each article acknowledges that sometimes, littles can understand abstract or mature concepts, beyond what is expected of biological children. The first article shares that littles understand complex concepts. The second article determines that every system's little requires different things. The final article describes common aspects of littles while also acknowledging they are not the same as biological children.

None of these sources agree with OP's assertion that littles cannot consent and must act like children.

Your own sources disagree with you. Each of them suggest that littles do not have to act childlike, and even says most of them do not think like biological children.

STEP TWO: RESEARCH

However satisfying it is to get a good debunk out there, it's also important to correct misinformation by providing new information to fill that void. And, to be frank, two-thirds of those sources were garbage anyways, regardless on if they agree with OP's opinion or not. So, what does the research actually say about littles?

Unfortunately, I do not have the free-time I once did. Even with the grace of delays and snow days that I have received from Mother Nature recently, and the hard work I put in at work to get all my grades completed fully this past month, I just cannot put in the time to find all the various articles on littles and child parts. So why don't I just toss out the big guns?

Source: Therapeutic Hazards of Treating Child Alters as Real Children in Dissociative Identity Disorder

This paper was published in the Journal of Trauma and Dissociation, volume five, and was written by Shielagh R. Shusta-Hochberg, a clinical psychologist who worked in NY at the time of publishing. She now has a private practice in Naples, Florida. The article focuses on the treatment of littles in therapeutic settings.

The article opens up with a basic description of how DID forms, as well as the dangers of misdiagnosis and mistreatment. It's a lovely review of the horrors of having this disorder. The author also mentions how therapists need to be gentle while also setting firm boundaries -- something I've seen echoed frequently in treatment guidelines.

Then, we get to the parts about child alters.

"These child alters can be identified by any or all of the following: childlike vocal tone and pitch, sing-song or stilted speech cadence, simple or naïve vocabulary, body language and posture including widely open eyes with raised brows, frankness or timidity, brief attention span and rapidly shifting focus, behavior such as playing with office objects, and childish affective tone." Shockingly, even though I do not experience littles who act like children, my littles do fall into some of these categories. They do use more childlike vocals, and they do have open eyes and body language that is different from the adult parts of me. Notably, the author does not say a little must be these things to be classified as a little; only that they can be identified in this way. She continues, "Putnam (1989) has observed, “Child personalities may be easily recognized by their nervous fidgeting, movement overflow, and childlike gestures (e.g., rubbing the nose with the back of the hand)” (p. 122)." I have to disagree with Putnam here, however, as more often, my adult parts display these traits -- due to our autistic tendencies. Which, could open up a very interesting conversation about how autistic adults are treated like children, just like littles are... anyways. "Child alters are so common in cases of DID that that every clinician treating the disorder, however briefly, is likely to have encountered them. Child and infant personality states often outnumber the adult aspects of a patient’s system." Mmm, I would love a source on that. Unfortunately, there is none -- poor authorship there imo.

I like what she includes next, though, so much that I'll include the entire paragraph in full: "It is important to remember that the patient is an adult, despite the childlike ego-states. These parts are not actual children. I am in agreement with Ross (1997) who is of the opinion that “child alters are not packets of childness retained in a surrounding sea of adult psyche. They are stylized packets of adult psyche. . . . I hold the child alters responsible for their behavior in the same way as the adult host personality”(p. 147)." Once again, as everyone has been saying for the past day, littles in adult bodies are still adults. They are not actual children! Ross treats littles with the expectation of adult responsibility, and I think that's really important.

The article continues with how to explain DID to various parts and have the patient accept the diagnosis, as that's a common struggle. It doesn't hold much bearing on this conversation, so I'll skip it for brevity, but I do so love the technique this article describes of window blinds. But then. The author goes in a wild left turn, one that honestly I think my therapist could benefit from hearing. Essentially, she posits that, since child parts are often seen as so different from the system -- oftentimes with childlike mannerisms, for instance -- then, "The clinician unbends and reacts to the “child” in familiar ways, responding with more warmth and simpler speech. Thus, child self-states elicit and reinforce nurturing and care-taking responses on the part of therapists." Basically, treating them like children makes the therapy less effective.

The case studies (as in, true experiences of DID systems) she presents where therapy has been made less effective -- or even completely denied and impossible for the patient -- are horrifying to me, from an outside perspective. She describes cases wherein:

A patient stormed out because a new therapist would not hold her child parts when they fronted, insisting that her old therapist would do so.

A patient breaks down at the suggestion from a friend that they go watch an animated cartoon movie that has monsters in it, as her child parts cannot handle that.

A patient completely socially isolates because she spends so much money on her littles that she cannot afford her rent, and she lies to her friends about who the toys are for.

A therapist throws a child-part party for her DID patients, because it's "repairative" for the childhood that was lost. Despite the adult parts of the patients feeling disturbed by this, they go along with it, retreating deeper into the consciousness to avoid the situation. Then the littles are upset that the experience turns into a therapy session, rather than a fun party.

And, lastly, a description of a woman who falls prey to SA due to an older gentleman emotionally manipulating her younger parts.

All of these occur because the system (or even the therapist) is treating their littles like actual children.

This is horrific to me as someone who did have parts who we treated exactly like this. Our littles -- yes, the ones we frequently talk about being adults and having sexual desires and who do adult things -- used to be child parts through and through. Sie could not function as an adult when we were in high school, and she only started to get there when we were in college. Which... okay, when we were in high school, we weren't even an adult. So that makes some sense.

But Sie absolutely was 100% the type of child part that is frequently described by those who isolate littles and treat them like children. And the fact is, isolating littles and treating them exactly the same as children is harmful to many systems, and can prove to be a barrier to healing.

OUGH! STILL MORE TO READ. Speedrunning it now, the next section discusses treating littles like, well, part of a system. "The work may involve bringing the patient around toward a more family systems approach toward the DID (Chu, 1998), stressing that the safety of the “children” is ultimately in the domain of the patient herself, and not that of her therapist, psychiatrist, parents, partner, employer or friends. The fact that there is only one body despite feelings to the contrary is sometimes a very difficult truth to accept for DID patients." I repeat: It is the job of the patient, and not anyone else, to ensure the safety of littles.

The next section of the article discusses real-world safety concerns with littles, which I feel like are discussed frequently already, but really hones in on the fact that it is the system's responsibility (and nobody elses) to be responsible for taking care of their system. Examples include:

Switching while driving to a child part who cannot drive

A child part forcing a patient to go to an appointment, which worsened physical pain

A patient (it doesn't specify a child part, but I can assume that based on the topic of this article) suffers bad falls from the littles attempting things beyond their capabilities

Not an example, but she also mentions medication issues and how it might be needed to have a medication manager.

The author of the article specifically calls out that adult parts should be in control for difficult tasks that require them, and I fully agree. Until a child part is capable of handling adult tasks, then adult parts should be the ones handling things.

Next, she discusses re-parenting, and frankly, I fully agree here too. The parenting has to come from within, not from a therapist -- and definitely not strangers online dictating what littles should do. The article does push toward fusion (in this case, labeling it integration) of parts, and she addresses that many systems view this as a sort of death. "The host may misinterpret integration as death, saying something such as, “We love the kids. We’re never going to integrate. It’s not fair that they have to die.”" Treating littles like children would definitely contribute to that fear.

And then.... Fuck, man, the article rips my heart out by including a statement from littles within a patient's own system -- a patient whose child parts were repeatedly treated as children, over and over again. Here's the whole quote.

"It’s hard for the bigger parts to take us seriously. It’s hard to be out in a grownup body, especially in the early days of awareness of the DID. The protectors want to protect us too much now from reality, and we can deal with it now. They are overprotective and there’s no need to be. We are as much a part of the whole system as the other parts and want to be equal. As the walls come down, we can share our childlike joy with those (older parts) and they won’t close us out. We can tolerate their seriousness. And we’re able to comfort them, not only them comforting us. They can hold us but we can comfort them, because they need to be loved, comforted, or forgiven. Barriers are coming down. It’s mutual.”

I fully suggest reading that full article.

TL;DR: Treating littles as children in a system can be incredibly harmful for the patient, in many different ways. In the end, it is up to the individual system to reparent themselves, and it is not anyone else's job -- and, really, no one else's right -- to speak over that system's functions.

STEP THREE: PERSONAL REMARKS

As much as I would have loved to find more, discuss more, and go deep in depth with this research, I just... can't. I don't have the time anymore. And genuinely, I don't expect others to.

What I do expect is that others don't try to pass off their opinions as fact. And the thing is, regardless of how many times you post "It's just an opinion," that does not negate that you then attempted to back up that opinion as if it was supported by medical literature. You attempted to say that your opinion was supported by medical facts. And the fact is, the medical literature disagrees with your opinion, with sources to back it up.

I want to address some of the common things I see from systems who try to dictate how other littles act.

"But your littles are vulnerable." One, not all littles, according to medical studies. Two, isn't the goal to heal and make it so that my littles are not so vulnerable as to be a danger/dysfunction for me? Isn't the goal to make them less vulnerable? How do you propose we do that without also engaging with safe risk?

"But your littles aren't safe." One, that is for every single system to decide for themselves. Two, the Dignity of Risk is in effect here, in that it's okay if someone else gets hurt. Yes, even badly hurt. It's not the concern of anyone but the system if they get hurt.

"But my littles/my friend's littles-" Stop. Regardless of any trauma you or your friend may have, it does not impact anyone else. Your trauma is not my trauma. It is vastly, vastly different.

"If your partner fucks your littles, they're a pedophile." Pedophilia is specifically attraction to a child's body. I will not be posting any pictures of my body on here for fear of the Ban Hammer, but you have to understand that I am not a child. Even if my littles were to fuck my partner, my partner would be attracted to an adult body. At most you could say my partner would be interested in... IDK, a higher pitched voice??? (Side note, because I've never actually mentioned this: My partner has absolutely 0 interest in fucking my littles and we've discussed at length how they'd be a little weirded out by it.) Side side note: as a victim of CSA and whose parents used their disorders to try to make them feel incapable of love, stop fucking boiling the term pedophile down to "someone who has sex with someone I deem too childlike to have sex." I'm tired of my trauma being dismissed so you can use a buzzword loudly.

"Letting your littles consent makes you a predator." So, when I was 13-16 and [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED] because I thought I could consent, does that make me a predator? Are CSA victims predators because they thought they could consent? How am I being a predator to myself? My littles are me. Your arguments make absolutely no sense and are wildly offensive to CSA survivors.

"I'm going to judge you for it." K. Do you make it a regular habit to judge people's recoveries? Cause like. I highly suggest you take a class in Not Giving A Shit, perhaps a gardening class so grass could be caressed by your tender hands, and maybe, just maybe, consider either therapy or self help for your own issues, if you haven't yet. You should really concern yourself more with YOU than with judging other people.

"I'm going to report you for hurting yourself."

I am a 27 year old queer individual. I am a person who has a loving spouse. We have sex. Do you regularly report (and to whom?) adults who have sex? Do you regularly look at people and say, "Actually, your relationship is going to cause you harm because I said it is, so I'm reporting you for your safety!"

In that case, I should be reporting every single syscourser, because syscourse harmed me, so clearly everyone who is in the tags must be self-harming, right?

I think that's the funniest part of all of this. In a dark humor kinda way. See, letting my littles access sexual content -- letting Sie write smut, and letting LED embrace sexuality, and letting Gazi (whom we are now comfortable talking about after doing good good therapy about it) enjoy and take pleasure in her sexual desires -- has let us heal from our CSA and feelings of insecurity.

Without letting them have that, we would have continued to hold resentment for myself. For who I am. For "what I am because of what they did to us."

You are trying to tell me that my recovery is secretly harming me, and that the medical world agrees with you. And frankly, you have no right to lie to me like that.

... But then you look at the syscourse thing and go, "Yeah, no, it's totally normal and okay and up to the individual if they're harming themselves."

Pick your lane and stay in it!!!

Ough. Thank you for reading, if you got that far. Two very long nights and a very, very patient partner who is waiting for me upstairs. I'm ending the post here, with a reminder to everyone to please be respectful. Respect other systems privacy. Respect their rights to dignity and risk. Respect them as people. And for fucks sake, let littlecourse end. (It's a dumb word anyways).

[jmflowers]

I wish you would write a fic where... Carla and Lisa get more than five minutes to themselves in the hospital, uninterrupted! (Bonus points if their conversation brings up Kate.) ✨

She cracks an eye at the sound of the door, expecting a nurse to be popping in for yet another vitals check. It’s that time of the evening: when supper has already come and gone and the hallway is slowly growing quiet as the last of the days’ visitors head on home.

The whole thing is frustrating in its predictability. Makes Carla want to scratch at her skin, a bit; claw her way out of this mundane routine and back to something more resembling normalcy.

Like a glass of wine in the pub, Lisa sat opposite her. Their hands brushing with intention across the tabletop. The twinkle of bright eyes gazing into her own. The flutter of want surging and swirling inside, waiting. Anticipating.

But it’s a swish of familiar blonde hair that comes through the door, followed closely by a soft smile that causes Carla’s stomach to flip with delight. She greets it with a tentative one of her own, pulled from the reverie by the more realistic alternative.  

No, there’s not many heated glances in hospital.

“I wasn’t expecting you back today,” Carla breathes, opening the other eye to watch as Lisa shifts ever closer. She settles a hip gently against the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing delicately at the blanket as she leans in.

“I know,” Lisa answers, just as soft. Just as whispered. She shrugs, seemingly unbothered that she’s already been by for their typical morning catch up, and again just after tea. She’s set her hair loose for this visit, though, shed the armour of DS Swain in favour of the Lisa that Carla’s grown to know.

Carla feels that cocoon start to wrap around them – the one that blocks out the rest of the world when it’s just them, just the two of them and the intoxicating this.

“But the kids are all at home, so I figured we could have a minute to ourselves.”

“Ooh,” Carla teases, “How romantic.” She tries to hold the smile, tries not to let her gaze drop to the tubes dangling off her hand. Tries not to feel the bubble of irritation in her gut at the sight of them.

But it settles so heavy – like a sharp tack waiting to pop this and all.

“Could be,” Lisa chuckles, reaching forward as though the touch of her fingers on Carla’s arm might keep her from pulling away. “Could see what happens to that heart rate monitor when I kiss you.” She grins, eyebrows wiggling, all the effort so apparent that Carla kind of wants to scream.

“Give over,” she says instead.

Lisa shakes her head, winding a hand around one of Carla’s and pulling it into her lap. “Can’t hide the way it spikes when I walk in the room, babe.”

Despite herself, Carla laughs, turning to see the tell-tale rise on the monitor screen as Lisa’s thumb swipes across her hand. She can feel the affects in her body: the tumble low in her belly, the tingling of her skin, the squeeze between her legs.

Even while she’s holed up in a hospital bed…

“No bloomin’ privacy in this place,” Carla grumbles half-heartedly, watching as Lisa preens where she sits. Watching as Lisa does that cocky little lift of her chin that always seems to undo any semblance of her own self control. “Don’t,” she scolds.

“Don’t what?” Lisa lets her eyes go wide when she says it, all feigned innocence.

As if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

“Is that what you came here for?” Carla murmurs, tugging their joined hands towards her chest.

The unexpected motion pulls Lisa slightly off her seat and she giggles, startled as she tumbles closer against Carla’s side. She catches herself with a hand on the mattress, careful not to put her weight anywhere that might hurt.

“Just to get me all hot and bothered when I haven’t got the energy?”

Lisa at least has the gall to look embarrassed. Her cheeks flush as she tips forward, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of Carla’s mouth. “Of course not,” she promises, “I just missed you, is all.”

Carla lets out a hum that makes it clear she only half believes her. That she isn’t wholly pleased herself to have Lisa in her room without Ryan or Bobby or Betsy hovering in a chair nearby. “I missed you, too,” she whispers.

“Not gonna tell me you’ve not brushed your teeth this time, are you?” Lisa asks, still near enough that her breath ghosts across Carla’s cheek. The sensation leaves shivers in its wake, gooseflesh standing at attention beneath her hospital gown.

And even though she feels unattractive, in this moment – utterly undesirable, with her hair unwashed and all the baggy clothes she’s been hiding in hanging off her skin – she lets Lisa close the gap. Lets her kiss her proper, with all the gentle conviction she’s been swearing with her words and her actions for days now.

I love you. I’m going nowhere. We’re okay.

It feels like coming home.

She’s breathless for a different reason when Lisa finally pulls away. Exhausted, as she has been ever since the start of the year. She growls, letting her eyelids flutter shut as she collapses against the pillows.

“This is supposed to be the fun part,” Carla mumbles, leaning into the caress of Lisa’s fingers on her cheek. It’s soothing, that – makes it harder to open her eyes again. Sleep claws at the edges of her consciousness, coaxing. “One kiss and I’m done for.”

“Yeah, well, you’re meant to be resting,” Lisa cajoles, “Not kissing me.”

The tell-tale press of Lisa’s forehead against her own a moment later lifts the corners of Carla’s mouth. And she knows, even without looking, that the monitor must be giving her away again. That, despite her very real attempts to push Lisa away, this is what she’s been craving.

This comfort. This connection.

This safety and support and love.

“We can have fun when you’re feeling better,” Lisa promises, “I’m going nowhere.”

[pepstarvanmoon]

I hope this doesn’t come off as me nitpicking Milkvan interactions, but these lines just comes off as odd to me.

In the show, leading up to the store scene, nothing Mike says or does regarding Max comes off as particularly jealous to me.

He gets upset with Max for taking El to the mall (not Max giving him a segway into complimenting her new style (which he does later), and he just gets mad at her instead lmao.)

He spends the beginning of the following episode pitying himself with Lucas enabling it.

“What did I do wrong?” - LIED, plain and simple. He acknowledged that before they went to the mall! El gave him a chance to explain yourself and he DIDN’T. Teenagers, man.

“Then I should be with my species more” - I guess implies spending more time with Max and her having no desire to get back with him. Mike is pissed about the spying (rightfully, imo), and obviously frustrated that him explaining himself didn’t lead to El forgiving him.

Max and El spending too much time in the bathroom, “they’re conspiring against me” - confused as to how he reached this conclusion given what we’ve seen. It’s like he just HAS to say something about it, nevermind El getting her shit tossed last episode. Listen to Will and worry about something else.

Bro is lowkey more mad about being single (and therefore ambiguously straight in Mike logic) than about El and Max being friends.

When he admits that he was jealous and wanted El “all to himself,” it sounds more like an excuse than an explanation.

We know what jealousy looks like in Stranger Things.

If anything, this “jealousy” is more closely aligned to how Dustin described Lucas’ jealousy of Mike and El’s relationship in season one.

I even tried to make an argument for Mike wanting El to himself minus the jealousy, but throughout the season it kinda fell flat.

Showing up late to movie nights (more than once) to hang out with El longer.

Ditching Dustin (the day of his return) and the others to spend more time together before El’s '4PM curfew' (a lie, ofc)

Maybe switch “conspiring” for excluding? Then you could argue he felt left out, like he’s not the closest to El anymore. However, the responses to his “conspiring” accusations were 100% negative.

(This could also play into how he felt getting stuck in the back of the car with Will, but that ventures outside the point of this post)

None of these are considered good things if Dustin, Lucas, and Will’s annoyance are considered, and Max going from “it’s romantic” to high-fiving El after she dumps Mike… yeah.

You can certainly say he’s frustrated. He’s never been in a relationship and therefore has never been broken up with, but Mike explains it like the reason he’s acting irrationally is because he’s 'never felt like this before'? But besides the whole ’Nana’ thing, that’s not really true?

Stupid stuff being 1) lying about his Nana being sick, 2) claiming girls are a different species.

Angry, sure. Jealous? Wanting her to yourself? Don’t make me laugh.

It’s all a bit hypocritical to me, too. So El can’t have ONE day out with Max, but Mike can run off with the rest of their friends while she’s stuck in Hopper’s cabin. Okay.

And, in this specific case, I don’t really buy the “she’s hiding from the government” excuse because it clearly wasn’t that big of a deal for El to have gone out that day. Mike’s concerns were brushed off, and there were no scenes with Hopper reinforcing that (we had our fill in S2 ig).

(I personally think they didn’t want any interruptions to that Elmax scene because it demonstrates how little El knows herself, and being cooped up by Hopper and Mike, though it’s sweet that they want to protect her, isn’t helping her developmental growth.)

Like damn if you really feel that strongly about it, you all could’ve had a movie night in the cabin, but Mike can’t balance his relationship and his friendships, and STILL can’t now!

Well, at least you got that part right.

(Post pretty much ends here. Rest of it is me rambling)

All of this relationship bullshit skydives out of Mike’s mind when Will gets upset btw. UNTIL he mentions girls, then Mike gets defensive.

That whole part of the rain fight gets to me, like Mike truly believes that this is a staple part of his life, getting a girlfriend and abandoning his interests. He can’t date El and play DnD, and if he’s dumped, his priority becomes getting her back instead of reflecting on what happened.

He proves he didn’t have a firm grasp on the situation when he victimizes himself, and when he actually admits to lying it doesn’t matter at that point. El already knows and DOESN’T CARE.

He’s really not confident. Lucas got a one-on-one, mirroring Mike and El’s, scene with Will to apologize, because the relationship drama is no longer important to him in that moment.

(I didn’t think Lumax broke up, but Will said in ep 3 that they both got dumped? Lucas seemed a lot less bothered, and by the time they got to the hospital scene they seemed fine lol. Lumax ‘breakups’ aren’t really taken as seriously anyway with the whole “five times” thing)

Funny how both apologies go unacknowledged because what’s done is done. They don’t care anymore (for Will, I don’t believe that for a second but yk) and there are bigger things to focus on.

It's brought back up in the hospital, but MIKE is the one who doesn’t care that much until El uses her powers on the vending machine as an “olive branch" (in Lucas' opinion, anyway).

I feel like there’s a lot to say about Mike and taking initiative versus when he has to be told to do something, but more on that another time.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 3: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

masterlist

Relief filled Ashe’s body as she let her friend in through the door before she closed it.

“You scared me for a second there,” she told him.

Eris had already sat down on her bed, head leaning against the wall and eyes closed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he answered. “It’s just been a rough day.”

Ashe sat down on the other side of the bed with her legs crossed. They just sat in silence for a little while. Eris never wanted her to ask and pry about his feelings. He would talk when he was ready, and that wasn’t yet.

Eris had saved her from one soldier once. The soldier had refused to let her go, even though she said no. He wanted her, and that wasn’t anything new. She would usually just let them have their way, but that day she had just started her cycle. While most males found that disgusting, that male didn’t care. It was almost like it made him want her more. Eris had randomly walked by and punched the male in the face. Eris had then helped Ashe into a warm bath.

Eris would since come to her room about once a week. Not to have sex as most the of soldiers thought, but to speak freely. Both of them.

It was terrifying at first, but eventually Ashe started to look forward to it. Their conversations were casual and safe.

“I got them out,” Eris started to speak. “The mother and her children. I helped them over the border to Summer.”

“That’s amazing, Eris.”

Eris abruptly stood up.

“They shouldn’t need to leave, Ashe! They should be able to live here as normal.”

She knew he wasn’t angry at her, but she also knew that he couldn’t show his true feelings to anyone that wasn’t her. So, she let him speak.

She listened to him as he poured his heart out. He was pacing in her small room, and every time he got close to the closet, Ashe got scared he would somehow know about the money and letter inside. Each time he turned to pace back the other direction, she felt like she could breathe again.

“I’m sorry.”

After each and every rant, Eris would end by saying sorry. Ashe had stopped telling him that it was alright, he didn’t listen to her anyway.

“How’s work?”

It was now Ashe’s turn. And she was so ready to speak about everything. But at the same time, she really wanted to read what was in the letter from Shadow.

“Honestly, I’m just tired. The amount of work is so much more than before and it’s exhausting.”

Eris’ eyes softened a little as she spoke. It was usual for him to react that way when she spoke. He never wore pity in his eyes. Only guilt.

“Do they pay you more?”

“Yeah, but still not a lot. It’s okay though. I don’t need more money.”

She thought about the money from Shadow. It must have been at least the same amount she would get for two months of work. It was crazy. It must have been a mistake. That was the only reason Ashe could think of.

Eris nodded gravely at her words.

“Chess?”

They spent the rest of the evening playing chess and card-games. Eris had eventually retreated to his own room and Ashe could finally read the letter. She ran and pulled it out the second Eris had left her room.

Thank you so much, Flame. I can assure you we are currently working on figuring out the most effective ways to help.

My High Lord has decided to join the ball Beron is hosting. Will you be there? If yes, you need to make sure you have a safe place to go to if something rather unfortunate happens. (We are not planning anything, but we don’t trust anyone.)

I have sent some money for you as payment for your help. I hope you will continue to share information with me.

Stay safe,

Shadow

And then it suddenly dawned on Ashe that she somehow had become a paid spy for the Night Court.

Ashe slept surprisingly well that night and when she woke up, she felt relaxed and well-rested.

That was until Maria came knocking on her door saying that the High Lord was calling them in for inspection.

Absolute terror filled her body.

Her hair. She hadn’t dyed her hair. She let Maria stand in the open door as she ran to her mirror. Her roots were definitely red. Her dark brown hair didn’t hide it one bit.

“Oh, dear,” Maria said with pity in her voice. “Well, there’s no time to fix it now. Come here.”

Ashe’s shoulders slumped as she walked to Maria. Maria lifted a kitchen towel she had at her waist and tied it around Ashe’s hair.

“Maybe he is less observant than usual,” she said to make Ashe’s anxiety less. It didn’t help.

They walked together with multiple other servants and went to the throne room.

The High Lord was seated at his throne, his wife sat beside him. The room started to fill up with all servants, gardeners and cooks. They stood in four long rows and waited for the High Lord to make his round. Ashe and Maria stood in the middle of the second row.

The High Lord stood from his throne, and it felt like everybody stopped breathing.

He walked slowly, almost too slowly. He stopped before each and every person. He gave some critic, but most of them he just walked past. Ashe saw him pass multiple others with similar scarfs or towels around their heads. He asked none of them to remove it. It made her calm down a little.

He started on the second row. Ashe immediately felt her back straightened. She needed to look proud. He had to see that she was proud of working for him. But at the same time, she couldn’t be too proud. She was a servant after all.

The High Lord stopped before her. She kept her back straight, but her gaze was on the ground. She gave him a small curtsy, just like everyone else had. She felt his gaze burning into her.

“Remove your headscarf.”

His intimidating voice gave her chills, but it was his command that terrified her. He would see it. He most definitely would.

She almost hesitated, but she knew it would only make it worse. She wanted to argue. To scream at him. Why did she have to remove her scarf? None of the others had to.

Luckily, she wasn’t brave enough.

Ashe lifted her hand and removed the towel from her hair.

It only took the High Lord a second before his new command came.

“Show me your arms.”

Her heart sunk. Why? Why did she have to be the first to mess up.

It didn’t matter. She did what he told her to do. She rolled up the sleaves of her dress and showed him both of her forearms. They were already covered in scars and burn marks. Some of the burn marks were from herself, but most of them were punishments.

He didn’t hesitate as he released his power and burned both her arms. The pain spread through her body. Her vision blackened for a few seconds, but for some unknown reason she managed to stand on her feet. Tears build in her eyes, but she didn’t scream. She did not scream.

“You have until tomorrow to dye your hair.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He finally moved to Maria.

Ashe had to stay in the throne room for another hour. Only two more people were punished, and both were new. Unlike Ashe, who had not only grown up as a servant, but also work there for over 150 years. She was so humiliated.

Maria shoved her back to her room. In silence, she put cooling cream over Ashe’s forearms and carefully dyed her hair. She gave Ashe a small squeeze when she finished.

“You can take the Lady this evening. Relax until then.”

Ashe couldn’t to anything but thank her.

That evening it was only planned a small dinner. Meaning, the Lady of Autumn needed minimal help. Ashe had combed through her hair and was using her powers to heat up the small iron-stick as the Lady started to speak.

“You’re brave.”

Ashe almost stopped her task in confusion. Did wasn’t unusual for the Lady to come with such compliments, but it felt unnatural.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ashe answered.

She then picked up one section of her hair and wrapped it around the hot iron-stick. She counted to three and let loose the curl. She continued to the next part of hair. Her forearms were still filled with burn marks that were hurting her, but the quicker she finished the Lady’s hair, the quicker she could go back hiding in her room.

“How old are you now Ashe?”

“160 years, my lady.”

The Lady nodded. She seemed in deep thoughts that evening. Ashe felt herself hope that the High Lord hadn’t done anything bad. But at the same time, she knew it was unlikely that he hadn’t.

“Have you thought about marriage? Or been in love?”

The question caught Ashe off guard. It wasn’t often the Lady would ask such personal questions. It happened once in a while.

“No, my lady. I’m afraid been a servant takes up most of my time.”

The Lady nodded once more.

“I really hope you do find love, Ashe.”

Ashe found herself agreeing before she could even think twice.

Love.

They spent the rest of the time in silence. It was first after Ashe had given her curtsey and was on her way out before the Lady spoke once more.

Ashe was so ready to go to bed, so being stopped was kind of annoying. However, she didn’t let her true emotions show.

“Yes, my Lady?”

The Lady had moved over to one of the draws in her room. She opened it and pulled out a small box.

“I want you to take this. It makes the wounds scar less.”

Ashe couldn’t do anything but take the box. As she walked out of the Lady’s cambers, she felt both embarrassed that the Lady had seen her being in such pain, but also happy that she got some help.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[wroetominter]

Overwhelm - George Clarke

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none

Fluff - my fav.

I turned on my side in bed, feeling the relief of the cold side of my pillow against my cheek. Next to me in bed George slept peacefully. There was nothing romantic happening here, simply two good friends who enjoyed each others company. I can’t say that there weren’t feelings there, at least on my end there definitely were.

I peered my eyes at my phone on the nightstand, seeing it was only five thirty in the morning. I tried falling back asleep but couldn’t get my mind to shut off. The last few month had been a whirlwind of emotions.

Deciding since sleep was not happening, I may as well get up. I slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake George. I grabbed his hoodie on his chair and pulled it over myself, smelling his cologne still lingering in the fabric. A scent I had come to find comforting.

I walked out to the living room, seeing the sun starting to creep over the horizon through the city view. I stepped outside and sat on one of the lounge chairs, pulling my legs up and hugging into them for some extra warmth and comfort.

As I sat there thinking, I began to feel filled with emotions. It wasn’t sad emotion, more so happy and overwhelmed all rolled into one. Tears freely flowed down my cheeks as my thoughts kept racing.

Torn from my thoughts by the door creaking open beside me, my head turned to the side to see who was coming outside. George stood there, his face immediately filled with concern when he took in my appearance.

“What’s wrong?” He came to sit beside me, wiping the tears from my face.

“Nothings wrong Geo, I’m sorry if I woke you.” I apologized. He shook his head.

“No no, well, kinda. I guess.” He scratched his head. “Bed felt empty and when I didn’t feel you beside me I knew something had to be wrong. Too early for you to be up.”

I sighed, looking back at him. His hand lightly rubbed my back in a soothing manner. He was too good to me sometimes. “What’s really wrong?” He pressed. He could read me like a book.

“Well, I was just sort of overwhelmed I guess. Everything I’ve ever wanted happened so quickly and I’m just really grateful I suppose. I have a job that doesn’t feel like work, I live in my favorite city in the world, I have the money to do whatever I want…” I trailed off, unsure if I wanted to break down the barriers further and admit to him that I had feelings for him and that also overwhelmed me.

Plucking up the courage as he stared at me, spilling my guts to him. “And I get to wake up next to the man of my dreams any time I want.” My hands fiddled together, trying to distract myself from the awkward tension I had unintentionally built.

“Man of your dreams?” George asked softly, placing his hand on mine.

I nodded, meeting his gaze. He had a soft smile on his lips and an almost unreadable expression.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.” He admitted. I stared back at him dumbfounded. “You know I’m not good with the whole admitting feelings thing, I barely even told my friends I loved them until years into our friendship.” I giggled at his all too true comment.

“Well, I guess we’re both at fault for that then huh?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me in for a hug. I embraced his warmth and felt more comfortable than I had in a long time.

“Let’s go back to bed love, we’ll talk about this more when we’ve slept.” He grabbed my hand and led me back to his room.

I slid back to my side of the bed, cozying into the blankets.

“I reckon we’re up to the point you can sleep closer to me yeah?” George reached his arms out, pulling me over to him. I rested my head on his chest, intertwining our legs in a way that was comfortable for both of us.

“Get some sleep love.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

[coraniaid]

Actually, on reflection, I think I'm persuaded that the "poor Willow is a magical junkie now and it's not her fault :(" subplot in Season 6 is, contrary to what I've said before, actually the worst multi-episode subplot on Buffy.

Say what you like about the other two contenders for that honor: the non-mystery of "is Giles really the First Evil and why hasn't anyone thought to check yet?" or the banality of "shall we engage seriously with the fact Spike has a soul now and how that might change him as a person, or shall we just say that a mean ghost hypnotized him?". But neither of those plots involve a woman telling her significant other (and I am really not paraphrasing much at all here) "I don't like that you used magic to violate my mind and rob me of my ability to consent to our relationship, because it's not good for you".

Moreover:

While the two Season 7 subplots are both pretty bad and boring to watch and are certainly part of why I don't enjoy that season, I don't think removing or somehow rewriting either of them would automatically make the season much better. By contrast, the Willow subplot of Season 6 is the worst thing about that season -- one which I think otherwise had a lot of potential and is arguably the most ambitious season the show ever did -- and fixing it would improve the season as a whole a lot.

The Willow subplot also takes up a lot more of the show overall than the two Season 7 subplots do. Giles as the First is a complete waste of everyone's time, but it's also fully resolved in less than half a dozen episodes (we first get the fake out that Giles might be dead in Never Leave Me, the ninth episode of the season, and we see that he isn't in The Killer In Me, the thirteenth episode). The Spike hypnotic trigger lasts a lot longer, but it still over within about half a season. But the Willow subplot dominates most of Season 6 and also continues to have ramifications for WIllow's character development (or lack thereof) for the rest of the show.

It's easy, I think, to understand why the writers resorted to the two Season 7 plots. They needed some excuse for Buffy's friends to not trust Spike, but for various reasons are committed to the idea that having a soul means Spike himself is now inherently Good and Blameless and so the reasons not to trust him can't be related to anything he's ever chosen to do himself, it has to be something done to him against his will. And the writers obviously stopped caring about Giles as a character with any sort of inner life the very minute ASH asked to be partially written out of the show so he could move back to England. I honestly don't believe the writers were capable of writing good subplots for either Giles or Spike by this point, even if they'd tried. But the Willow subplot comes out of nowhere and completely derails what was going to be a really interesting story line about Willow that the show had been patiently building towards since at least Season 3 and arguably even longer.

More broadly, both the Season 7 plots are bad in part because they are attempts to make the First -- previously a forgettable monster of the week whose primary powers included 'making people who have done bad things feel suitably bad' and 'not being able to touch anything'; a plot device which Buffy herself already rightly dismissed as all talk all the way back in Season 3 ("I get it. You're evil. Do we have to chat about it all day?"). Of course they're not successful attempts: there's no way to make the First as menacing and important as the writers wish it was. Being annoyed at the way they fail almost seems like missing the point.

Most importantly, I can more cheerfully ignore the two Season 7 subplots because I don't really care about either Spike or Giles at this point of the show's run. But I like Willow, so it bothers me more that she's subjected to all this dreadfully bad writing and that her character never really quite recovers from it.

[thecoolerliauditore]

I can’t exactly remember the post or tags but you mentioned something about how fandom treats popular au’s and their creators, would you ever go into that topic in further detail? I’m intrigued with your opinions on fandom and your takes but if that’s something you don’t want to get into then I understand. Random anon signing out.

I've vagued about it quite a lot because it's a topic very interesting to me in line with the rest of the fandom meta discourse-y stuff I find very fascinating to observe unfold.

I don't think I'll ever be deep-diving on it and naming all the who's who because I fear sounding like t*rkey t*m 🤢 or someone else adjacent and I doubt many artists/writers would feel completely at ease with me making judgments on how they use their platforms or unintentionally cultivate fandom culture even if it's not coming from a malicious place (<-- trust me when I say this that no fandom person I've namedropped on here is anyone I can say I dislike. Like with what I mentioned about how I'll never post about an SMP I genuinely don't have at least somewhat positive feelings towards, if I don't like someone I'll just not mention their name at all cus doing otherwise is unproductive imo unless it's a serious situation).

I'll be honest I wrote much much more but it all ended up getting wildly away from me. In short though I think the problem mostly lies in the fandom fearing itself. Too many people are too scared to do anything genuine out of fear of not being inoffensive enough, which I think is wild considering what we are doing is inherently already transgressive to anyone outside of the fandom -- please if you have the opportunity, try explaining joelshipping to an irl who doesn't care about mcyt, it's an amazing bonding exercise.

It's difficult because, on some level, if you are marked as a Big Artist you kind of lose the ability to be not inoffensive in this fandom. It's this horrible loop of self-censorship that maintains itself by making sure it goes unchallenged.

And this might be a mean thing to say but. I think a lot of New Fandom exists almost purely out of reaction to the Old Fandom and a lot of it feels.. very cynical? I think when you engage with the series as a narrative, it's more or less unavoidable that some uncomfortable themes pop up when you take the murder game as a serious setting, but as time goes on and more and more of those uncomfortable themes become vegetables hidden in a child's dish rather than stated outright, the narrative as a whole becomes left to the wayside and all that remains is this shell that somewhat mimics having things to say. I just think there's something to be said about how somewhere during SL every popular sentiment suddenly got shot down with "not everything has to be about that!" with no one offering any real alternative. and that's become so prevalent in WL fanon that even enaging with the leftover SHELL of narrative (the celestial body thing) is seen as cringe and everything has to now be layered in irony.

One weird exception I will mention is that Scott/Pearl becoming acknowledge-able as a ship is a weird turn of events and I genuinely did not expect it but their culture is. weird and unique lmao I wrote a thing before that I deleted about Smallidarity and how queerness is central to fanon but also you can only engage with it in this sanctioned for safe consumption kinda way (see: the old discourse about the "yaoi-fication of scarian" and joelshipping) that would've been really good here but whatever man. Majormoon becoming the new toxic FH discourse was not on the bingo card but holy fuck I am intrigued

[yourfriendlyfanperson]

A Chemical Reaction Called Love

Chapter 3: A Boring Life

~Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!reader

~Summary: Being the daughter of Hawkins Middle School Science teacher, Scott Clarke, has its perks. Constantly having to explain things to 'King' Steve Harrington wasn't necessarily one of them but it was something you had gotten used to. He might not be the brightest guy but at least he tried, and you appreciated that. You had big plans for the future, but they might be forced to change thanks to a phone call...

~Warnings: Sensitive topics might be brought up so reader discretion is advised.

~Word Count: 3.4k

~Authors Note: Hey everyone! Here's chapter three! Thanks so much for the love on the previous chapters! I'm still getting used to how posting fanfics on tumblr works so I appreciate all the likes and reposts! If you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! Once again you can find me on Ao3 as Lilpipsqueak and W-tpadd as friendlyfanperson!

Does anyone know how I can make the previous chapter numbers appear and be linked to this? I've been trying to figure it out lol

~Narrator's POV~

Y/n walks inside the middle school going to her dad's room, the place is very quiet, which is the opposite of what the school is usually like, there is a very uncomfortable atmosphere around but it's to be expected, after all, one of the students was announced dead, it's not something that ever happens or people think will happen.

"Hi dad," She says standing at the door.

"Hey honey, thanks for coming to help the kids by talking about losing someone," He tells her walking out of the room.

"No worries, how are the boys doing?" She asks him, walking next to him.

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen them today, they must be having a rough time though, I can't even imagine"

Y/n doesn't even want to imagine how they must be feeling, they're only twelve years old and have already lost their best friend to some terrible accident, no kid should go through what they're going through, but the circumstances can't be changed, unfortunately, and all they can do is be there for the boys so things are easier for them, comfort them in any way possible, and make sure that Will's memory lives on.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honour Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period"

The principal announced from the speakers, when it all goes quiet again they can hear voices coming from somewhere near and just as they turn to the right they see the three boys with a girl standing in the corridors.

"Boys?" Scott says as they turn to look at him.

"Hey," Lucas says, trying not to seem suspicious.

"The assembly is about to start" Y/n adds.

"We know," Mike tells her, "We're just, you know"

"Upset," Lucas explains with a smile before looking down sad.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely upset" Dustin repeats.

"We need some alone time," Mike says.

"To cry" Dustin adds.

Y/n looks at them confused, noticing they are acting stranger than usual.

"Yeah, listen, I get it, I do" Mr Clarke begins telling them, "I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then" he gets his keys out from his pocket and tosses them to Mike, "The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day, what do you say?" he asks them.

The boys look at him with a smile nodding, happy with the idea.

"I haven't seen you around here before, is she new? What's your name?" Y/n asks the blonde girl standing next to Mike.

"Elev-" The girl begins to say before she's interrupted by Mike, Lucas and Dustin.

"Eleanor, she's my-"

"Cousin!"

"Second cousin"

"She's here for Will's funeral" Mike adds.

Y/n stands there trying to figure out whether the three boys expected her to really believe the obvious lie they just told her, and by the look of it they were sure she was going to believe it.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor, I wish you were here under better circumstances," Her dad tells the girl.

"Thank you" She softly says.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?" Y/n asks her.

The eyes of the three boys widen as they turn to look at Elenor who shakes her head.

"Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin shouts. "I have a lot of Swedish family" Mike adds. "She hates it there" Dustin mentions. "Cold" Lucas says. "Subzero"

Everything feels very awkward after that, Y/n and Scott look at each other, confusion visible on their face, but they decide to just move past the conversation.

"Shall we?" Her dad says looking at the kids.

"Yep," Lucas says as they all walk towards the sports hall.

Dustin opens the door to the room interrupting the principal and drawing everyone's attention to the five of them.

"Great" Y/n mumbles.

Dustin turns around trying to leave but is pushed back inside by Lucas.

Lucas, Mike, Dustin and Eleanor take a seat on the benches while Y/n and Scott sit on the chairs behind the principal.

"We have Y/n Clarke from Hawkins High to talk to you guys a bit about how it feels to lose someone, Y/n," The principal says turning to look back at her.

She stands up taking a deep breath, public speaking it's not fun, especially having to talk to a bunch of clearly bored and annoying pre-teenagers. Y/n smiles at the principal walking next to him and moving to look at the kids, most of them looked like they couldn't wait for this to be over, some were mildly interested or at least respected the situation, a very small group was actually upset, and then in the crowd, she saw two boys laughing, she noticed that Mike and Lucas saw them too, and man does she hate bullies.

"Can you two at the back be quiet?" She shouts glaring at the two boys, they look back at her embarrassed and annoyed but stop talking, "Thank you"

Now I could share with you the sad story that Y/n is telling the kids, but in reality, the anecdote isn't actually that sad, she doesn't even remember her mother at all, she died when Y/n was only two-years-old in a car accident, but stretching the truth for the kids to stop being little assholes wouldn't hurt at the end of the day. So she put on her best sad face and took ten minutes of the kid's day to share the story.

"So let's keep Will's memory alive, and show some respect," She says finishing her speech. The bell goes off and the kids start leaving the room, Y/n walks over to her dad, "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay honey" In comparison to her Scott obviously remembers her mother a lot, and he gets very sentimental whenever someone talks about her, it's a sensitive topic.

"Do you want me to go talk to the kids?" She asks him.

"No don't worry, I'll talk to them you should go back to class," He tells her with a smile, she smiles back at him and waves goodbye as she walks out of the gym.

Y/n walks back to the High School and gets on with her usual day. Nothing interesting really happens after, she just attends her lessons, has lunch with Robin, and then meets once again with her dad so they can go home. Her life really is pretty boring when she thinks about it, always the same cycle over and over, it would be nice to do something new for a change.

~~~~~~~~

The next day school was cancelled since it was Will's funeral.

Y/n woke up at 8:00 am to get ready, the funeral was scheduled to start at 11:00 am and would probably last about two hours, after that most people would attend the wake which would last about an hour or so, which meant Y/n would have enough time to go back home, get changed and then walk to her shift which starts at three thirty.

She changed into the outfit she had planned for the funeral, lucky for her she already had black clothes which meant she didn't need to buy new ones for this day, it wouldn't have been fun to buy clothes for a funeral.

All she could think about while getting ready was the fact she was attending Will's funeral, it really was happening, he was actually dead, it wasn't just a bad nightmare she had anymore, it was a reality. No one ever wants to attend the funeral of someone younger than them, they're supposed to live longer than you after all, so when that doesn't happen it's just so  heartbreaking.

"Are you ready to go honey?" Scott asks her as he knocks on her door.

"Yeah, let's go," she says walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

The drive to the funeral was completely quiet, neither Y/n nor her dad had the strength or energy to try and initiate a conversation, there wasn't much to talk about anyway, so really it was for the best.

When they arrived he parked his car at the car park next to the church, they both got out and walked towards Joyce and Jonathan who were standing in front of the soon-to-be grave. Y/n went up to Jonathan and gave him a big hug, she hadn't seen him since Will went missing, and she wanted to ask him how he was feeling but she guessed that was the last thing he needed to be asked today, so instead she just gave him a soft smile as she moved away from the hug and turned to look at Joyce.

She doesn't say anything, she looks so confused to be there like it isn't right.

Y/n wanted to say so much to Joyce, she wanted to tell her how sorry she was for what had happened, how she couldn't believe it was Will out of all the people it could've been, how he was such a fantastic kid he didn't deserve this, but she couldn't tell her that, not at this time anyway, "We'll be here if you need anything" was all she said, with a soft smile.

She turns to look at the kids, she expected them to be already crying their eyes out or something along those lines, but instead, they seemed normal, they didn't look upset or sad, and they didn't even look like they were hiding their feelings, which Y/n would've definitely found weird if it wasn't for the fact that the moment she saw the boys she just wanted to breakdown into tears and hug them.

"How are you guys doing?" She asked them walking over to the boys.

"We're okay," Dustin tells her looking over at Lucas and Mike.

"You guys know it's okay to cry, right?" She tells them.

"Yeah, we know," Dustin says looking at Lucas and Mike, the three of them nodding.

"Good, I'm here if you need to talk" She adds and they smile at her.

More and more people start arriving, but instead of people talking more everything goes completely quiet, and eventually, the funeral begins.

All Y/n is able to do is look down during the entire speech, she barely has the strength to look at Will's casket, it's so small, and caskets shouldn't be that small. In the end, everyone throws some flowers inside the hole before they close it.

Everyone then heads to the wake, there are tables and food organised in the place, and most people are talking, probably about something not even remotely related to Will, Lonnie is speaking to Mr and Mrs Wheeler, meanwhile, Joyce is sitting by herself, on the other side of the room Y/n and Scott are getting some food from the lunch table, when Mike, Lucas and Dustin walk up to them.

"Mr Clarke," Mike says, Scott and Y/n turn around to look at the boys.

"Oh, hey there, how are you boys holding up?" He asks them.

"We're...in...mourning" Lucas answers.

"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers" Dustin mumbles, Mike and Lucas turn to look at him as if he just said something irrelevant, which he did but kids usually do that.

"We were wondering if you had time to talk?" "We have some questions" "A lot of questions," Mike and Lucas say.

"What do you want to know?"

Mr Clarke, Y/n and the three boys take a seat on one of the tables and begin to ask the questions, they ask about alternate dimensions but not an alternate dimension where Will's death never happened but more about an evil alternate dimension, like the Vale of Shadows, and then they ask how one would travel there, theoretically of course. Scott explains things to the boys in the simplest way possible which is by comparing things to a flea and an acrobat, explaining how there are places an acrobat, which in this case is them, can only explore so much, meanwhile, a flea will be able to reach places they can't. The boys ask if there's a way the acrobat could reach the upside down, and he explains that it only would be possible by creating an insane amount of energy one bigger than humans can currently make which could open up a gate to reach the upside down.

"Science is neat, but not very forgiving" Scott adds as he finishes explaining things to the boys.

"You guys always have the weirdest questions you know," Y/n says chuckling as she looks at the three boys, she had this feeling that they were hiding something, that there was something going on with them, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

"We're just... very curious," Dustin tells her looking at the other two who nod at this comment.

"Well make sure that curiosity doesn't kill you," She says with a smile standing up, "I should probably start saying goodbye to everyone dad, I need to leave soon so I can get ready for work"

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" He asks her.

"It's okay, I know you want to stay here longer talking with the boys and everyone else, and I have my skates anyway so it won't take me long to get home" She explains to him.

He sighs smiling at her knowing that he does, in fact, want to stay longer and that either way he won't be able to change her mind, "Be careful" he says.

"I will, love you dad, bye kids, you can call me at home if you need anything okay?"

"Okay"

~~~~~~~

After working for five hours Y/n was finally able to say goodbye to her last customer, she turned on the radio and listened to 'Old Time Rock & Roll' while she cleaned the cafe, dancing along to the song and singing the lyrics as she organised everything and made sure it was nice and clean. When she finally finished she turned off the light and walked out of the cafe closing it and locking it, she put on her skates and started skating over to her house.

She was glad she didn't take today off work because it actually helped her get her mind off everything that had happened lately, the cafe has always been a comfort place of hers so it made her feel better.

Normally she didn't mind going home after work alone, Hawkins had always been a very safe place, and she always carried some bleach in a bottle in her bag just in case, but after Barb's disappearance, the thought of walking alone at night was not so fun. So she decided to skate as fast as she could so she could get home soon, unfortunately, Y/n had her sleeves rolled up and forgot the fact it was a cold night in November and the ground would be frozen, so when she tripped on an uneven step she didn't just stop herself like she usually did but instead fell forwards on the rocky ground scraping her arms.

"Fuck" she says pushing herself up and carefully standing again, she looks down at her arms to see that they're bleeding, great, "Why is blood so dramatic?" she asks herself rolling her sleeves down, not even trying to stop the blood knowing it will be a waste of time anyway.

She continues skating to her home, and slowly this feeling that she's being followed starts growing in her stomach, she turns around to look behind her but sees nothing, she shakes her head, telling herself that she's tired and anxious so it's just her mind making her paranoid, she continues skating but the feeling doesn't go, if anything it just gets worst, she keeps looking around hoping it will make her feel better but instead she sees a weird shadow inside the woods, a tall, dark figure with a strange head; she picks up her pace trying to go as fast as she can while being careful so that she won't fall again, she looks back at the woods to see the figure closer than it was before, she doesn't care if she falls again she starts skating as fast as she possibly can, her eyes not moving away from the tall shadow that was getting closer, scared that she might end up like Barbara, missing and possibly dead.

Meanwhile, Steve Harrington was driving his car down the road she was about to walk across, he had just dropped Tommy and Carol at their house after going to check on Nancy, and it hadn't gone well, he saw her with Jonathan and was convinced that she was cheating on him with Jonathan.

Y/n was freaking out so much she didn't realise when the car stopped right in front of her until she is stopped by the car crashing against the side door, she looks inside the car to see none other than Steve he looks at her confused noticing she had in fact just hit her head against his car, he rolled down his window as she looks back seeing the tall, shadow creature leaving the woods and making its way towards her.

"Hey Einstein, are you okay?" Steve asks checking on her.

Y/n doesn't even take a second to think, her survival instincts and panic took over her brain, and all she does is open the passenger's door getting inside the car.

"Go!" she shouts at him, his eyebrows knit together as he looks at her puzzled.

"What?"

"Steve just go! Go! Go!" she shouts at him.

Steve lets go of the brake pedal and push's down at the accelerator as he turns to the left and drives away as fast as possible, Y/n turns back as she watches the dark creature fade away into the dark disappearing from her view. Neither of them says anything during the drive, Y/n didn't even know where Steve was taking her until he parks in front of a house.

"What the hell just happened?" he asks turning to look at her confused and worried.

"Someone or something was following me, I was trying to get away from it and then I bumped into you and I didn't know what else to do, I got scared I was going to end up going missing or kidnapped or something like that, I'm sorry I didn't mean to get into your car like that" she explains apologising once she takes in the incredibly bizarre situation.

"It's okay, I mean we wouldn't want you to go missing" she nods at him, "Is your arm okay?" he asks, looking down at her arm worried, Y/n turns to look at him confused.

"What?"

"Your jacket has blood around your arm" he points out.

"Oh, it's nothing I just scraped my arms when I fell," she tells him rolling her sleeves up.

"That doesn't look like nothing" he adds.

"It's fine I'll just disinfect it when I get home"

"You could just disinfect it here, we have saline solution," he says turning off the car and looking at her.

"Won't your parents mind?" she asks him, not wanting to bother anyone.

"They're probably already asleep, they won't even notice I just got home, we can quickly disinfect your arms and then I can drive you home" he suggests to her.

"Oh no it's okay I don't want to keep you up for longer"

"It's fine really, I was probably going to stay awake for a while anyway," he says smiling at her as he opens the door and gets out of the car, walking towards the passenger's door.

"Thanks," Y/n says getting out of the car and closing the door, "Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't bumped into you"

"Well, I do owe you big time, this is one of the thirty I guess" he chuckles locking his car and walking to the front door.

"You still got a long way to go," she smiles at him.

"Yeah well let's hope the next one is me passing my chemistry test without your help," he tells her with a smile opening the door.

Y/n laughs at him as she walks inside, "Then you've got a lot of studying to do"

Thank you for reading! Any likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

[butchnavi]

ok gonna practice my tamil reading skillz now by trying to read the signs as I go down the street let's go:)