#but i also like fully can't believe i took them with my own two hands 😭

[the-busy-ghost]

I have finally emptied the blue bench of all the library books I need to hand back, even though they were terribly photogenic in there, and instead have filled it with all the old children's books I've been keeping around for like fifteen years or more, even though the chances of me ever having children or even passing them on to nieces/nephews/cousins etc is vanishingly small. These are less photogenic but at least it's one way to start clearing the living room of boxes.

Currently strategising how to fit them all in but also wow this is a list of Problematic Children's Authors TM

[quarterprioritymidnight]

chappell roan at o2 academy brixton (19.09.2024)

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi! Could I please ask for: mille-feuille + s'more + croissant + champagne + mai tai + tonic water... served by Carlos Sainz Jr for Toto Wolff's daughter? Btw, your writing is amazing, Bunny!

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? hit up the menu, i'd love to hear from you. i am working on a ton of awesome things so please, feel free! thank you so much for everything that has been sent to me! and thank you to this lovely person for submitting an order! i love that you picked wolff!reader, something about that trope just gets to me every time, haha.

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." + champagne: sugar daddy situation + mai tai: loss of virginity + tonic water: age gap served by carlos sainz jr. (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, sugar daddy au, age gap (20/30), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, cowgirl position

toto wolff should've known. he prided himself on being a smart man, who was proactive with his career and always stayed on the ball. but formula one blinded him to the activities of his daughter. toto thought having you play assistant over the summer break would teach you a thing or two before you went back to university in the fall.

but you kept ending up in the ferrari garage more often than not.

your father should've also been looking at your bank account a little closer. you didn't work, so why were you making a considerable income? well it didn't come from toto wolff, but rather ferrari's driver, carlos sainz, number fifty-five.

"you don't have to stuff it in my bra like a stripper." you said as you watched him put them down your shirt. you caught a glimpse of a purple euro banknote and felt heat rise in your cheeks. carlos was not a light spender when it came to you.

"i thought you wanted to be covered in money. now i won't do that because it's dirty. but, knowing you'll go back to your father with my money in your pocket... i like the feeling." those big brown eyes stared at you with want.

it wasn't even a power thing, or even a sex thing. carlos liked being around you and maybe part of him enjoyed when you snuck off to the ferrari garage and out of your father's grasp, but besides he enjoyed your company. but tonight you were taking the next step.

you looked up at him from your spot on his hotel bed and asked, "are you trying to butter me up because we're going to have sex?"

he smiled, "there is not buttering up. no butter at all." the slipped the last bill, a crisp hundred, into the strap of our bra under your shirt sleeve. then patted your breast playfully.

you chuckled, "right." you two had been intimate in other ways. he had fingered you and ate you out. you gave him handjobs and sucked his cock. you've just never had penetrative sex. you were technically a virgin. which at first shocked carlos. but then he remembered who your father was. toto wolff wasn't letting his daughter go out clubbing in monaco, hence why you were in university in france. and even then, the team principal kept a keen eye out for you.

but tonight, you were all carlos'. so when you took your shirt off and exposed the bills in your bra. it made carlos smile. he was taking wolff's daughter's virginity. he showered you in affection and praise.

“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praised which made you shiver. his hands on your breasts as he groped them over your bra and the money. he could understand why toto was so protective of you.

"please, carlos."

he chuckled as he got you fully onto the bed before he took your bra off and admired your bare breasts. he grabbed the money off your heated chest, sweat making the bills cling to you. he placed it all on the nightstand for you to take home. made you look like a whore. but you were the furthest thing from that. you were carlos' lover. he admired you, "you're so beautiful. can't believe an old man like toto wolff had a hand in making something so pretty."

"carlos." you flushed.

he remarked, "the accent gets to you, doesn't it?" he got onto the bed with you and got you out of your pants. he admired your almost nude form, in just thin cotton panties. you watched him get undressed, his toned body revealed to you as he asked, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

carlos was almost ten years older than you, raced for a rival team and above all else would never meet the standards your father had for a man that could be with you. not that you cared about what your father thought, you were an adult who could make your own choices.

you remarked, "i don't care if he knows. he needs to lose the grip on me. i'm almost done schooling, i have to live my life. and that's with you." you smiled a little when carlos got onto bed beside you. yu stroked his face lovingly.

"am i in that life?" he asked as he reached and stroked your hip lovingly.

"of course, where else would you be?" you asked as you cupped his face. you trailed your thumb across the side of his nose. you had to admit, you really liked his nose.

he smiled, "six feet under when your father finds out." his eyes went a little wide when you straddled his waist and splayed your fingers across his chest, "do you want me dead, beautiful?"

you laughed, "yes, i want my boyfriend dead." as you rubbed yourself up against his cock. you felt a smile pull at your lips as you braced yourself against him, "i want him six feet under in a pine box."

"well." he mused as he took you by the hips, "maybe to die by your hand would be worth it." then tensed up when you sank down on his cock. he shuddered a little and felt the pleasure bloom in his body. that felt good.

"like this?" you asked. you had ridden his thigh before. and you told him earlier that the only way you'd lose your virginity to him was if you had the control (sometimes you were painfully like your father).

carlos nodded almost dumbly as he held onto you tightly, "perfect. now you move as you like, this is about you." wasn't he just the sweetest? as if he wasn't taking the virginity of the daughter of a rival team principal.

you held onto his strong shoulders and moves your hips a little bit. you smiled down at him, especially when the pleasure made his expression changed. he looked handsome even when the pleasure made the heat bloom in his face, down his neck.

"fuck, honey." he said softly, "i know why wolff made sure you went to school far, far away from the paddock."

you leaned in and pushed hair out of your face before you kissed him on the lips, "i'm pretty sure if we met any sooner, you'd be next to a cradle robber. wouldn't look nice in the press." you could feel the blush high in your cheeks as you rode him. you could feel the pleasure down to your feet as you really worked his cock.

"i would've made sure that no one else could have you."

you smiled, "don't worry, you're the only one i've ever been with. at least this way." you rolled your hips, picking up momentum. the pace was a little messy, but carlos didn't mind.

he didn't mind at all, anything to make you happy. he held onto you and felt the heat rise further in his face. the blush almost stung. your cunt felt like euphoria, you were perfect. he said, "if i could give you my virginity, i would." he smiled at you, blush high in his cheeks.

you smacked his chest playfully, "ah, you flirt. it's a stupid construct anyway. but, if it's anything." you moved a little faster, "i would've happily taken your virginity."

he chuckled and smacked your ass, "i knew you were going to say that." and then took you by the face with one hand and pressed hot kisses against your heated face. you moaned a little bit as you continued to ride him.

the pleasure soon became overwhelming for the both of you. you moaned a little louder, your back arched a little further and the kissed became heavier. the pleasure was felt between you two are you really worked your hips against him. you held onto him tightly and grit your teeth as you rode him. the pleasure throbbed in your brain as with a few more quick thrusts you finished, which made you moan loudly and tense up.

you kissed him while he held onto your hips. he worked your cock in the areas that made you squirm further. it was painfully hot for the both of you, the two of you made out deeply as his hands gripped you tightly. he yearned for your closeness and it didn't take long before his thrusts became harder and faster, and with that he came inside of you as he pressed a hot kiss against your lips.

you both slowed to a stop and the kisses continued. you ended up on your back with him on top of you. his cock hard once more and right up against your soaked cunt.

"i don't think your father would mind if you went back to your hotel a little late?" he suggested, his hands braced on either side of you. his smile was intoxicating.

you reached up to him, like you were reaching for the sun and pulled your lover close. you kissed him on the lips then said, "i guess. but you better make me finish first." and carlos just beamed at you <3

[somanyratsinthewalls]

I know you already said you'd do it... BUT maybe could I request a standalone fic (not a kinktober one) of a Franky x Reader x Robin fic with daddy/mommy kink, sub!virgin!AFAB!reader

idk if you ship frobin though but if you want to feel free to add that in!

YEAH BABY THIS HAS BEEN FLOATING IN MY MIND EVER SINCE I SAW THAT POST!!! I need more Franky Fuckers in my life. I have zero ships in One Piece EXCEPT FROBIN! They are clearly so in love I can't stand it. Here's the fic, I love it.

Sex Education

Pairing: Robin x afab!reader x Franky

TW: threesome, cyborg banging, misuse of devil fruit powers, girl on girl, two girls one guy, fingering, riding, face sitting. porn!

——

“That color is ugly.” Nami comments at the shade of light green you had chosen to paint you toenails. 

“Is it really that bad?” You lean back and admire your half painted foot. It shimmered in the sunlight on the deck of the ship. 

“Looks like barf.” Nami didn’t look up from her work, carefully painting her own nails a dark shade of pink. 

“Well now that you’ve said that, I can’t unthink it. Do you have the polish remover?” You ask.

“I think Robin has it in her room, you can go grab it, puke-toes.” Nami laughed. 

You roll your eyes and stand up. You begin to head towards the inside of the ship in search of the nail polish remover. You reach Robin’s bedroom door and grab the handle and open the door. You three girls were best friends at this point, knocking was a moot point. 

“Hey, Nami said my toes were ugly so can I just grab the-“ 

Your eyes immediately meet Robin’s as she gasps. Fully nude, she is seated on Franky’s lap who was also shed of his swim briefs. His huge hands cradled her pale, plump ass. A slight sheen of sweat covered her forehead as her arms wrapped around his massive neck. 

“Y/n!” Robin yelps out at you. 

“OH my god?! I’m so sorry!” You stutter out and slam the door shut behind you and run back up through the ship. Your mind was racing. Franky and Robin? A thing? I mean… it makes sense the more you think about it… but seeing it first hand was still a bit jarring. Were other people here having sex? Were you the only one who had never done it before? Is this something you were missing out on?

You burst through the door to the deck where Nami was fanning her drying nails. 

“Woah where’s the fire, y/n?” Nami asked you, noticing your panicked expression. 

“Nami I- I went to get the nail polish remover- and I? I don’t know! The door wasn’t locked! I just went in! And she- and they- they were…!” You were out of breath and couldn’t get out a coherent thought. 

“Oh, walked in on Franky and Robin? Yeah they’re like rabbits lately. Good for them, honestly.” Nami went back to fanning her nails. 

“Wait… you knew?” You couldn’t believe it. 

“Duh? Are you that oblivious? Why do you think they’re always mysteriously absent after dinner? Jeez you need to get laid.” Nami rolled her eyes. 

“Wait… are YOU fucking someone!? Is everyone here having sex but me?!” Your eyes bugged out of your head. Were you the only (human) virgin left on this ship? Sure you had urges, but you always just took care of it yourself in the quiet of your own room late at night. 

“Not since that last island, no. Nobody on the crew, obviously, pickings are way too slim. I made out with Sanji once when I was wasted but he was such a bad kisser I told him to get fucked. It was all wet and gross.”

“Really he was that bad—? Wait come on, you’re getting laid too? Is everyone else?!” You returned to the point of your questioning. 

“I mean yeah, y/n, we all have needs. Except for Zoro… I think there’s something seriously wrong with his brain. Sex is great, especially with someone who knows what they’re doing.” Nami gave you the truth. Maybe it was time for you to finally explore your sexuality…

You both turned your heads as a door swung open. A red-faced Robin smiled meekly at the two of you as she walked towards you and sat down at your side. 

“You need to start using those hands to lock doors, girlfriend.” Nami chuckled and rose to her feet. She winked at the both of you and headed into the kitchen. 

“Hi y/n… So… I’m sorry about that. I should have been more careful. It was a private moment and I apologize for you having to see it.” She genuinely searches your eyes for forgiveness. 

“it.. it’s okay. I just didn’t know you guys were together like that…” You blush and look down at your feet. Robin smiled. 

“He’s sweet. I know we might not look like we’d work out, but I find him quite charming actually!” Robin’s eyes sparkled. “And the sex is phenomenal.”

“Oh.. I… um… I wouldn’t know…” You felt your cheeks continue to heat up. 

“Are you a virgin, y/n?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, talking mostly to yourself. You continue. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose… I’m plenty old enough and I’ve thought about it loads… I just… haven’t had the right opportunity…” 

“Well… If you really wanted to change that… I’m sure we could help you.” Robin takes your hand in hers. You look up into her eyes, they were kind and warm. 

“What?” You were confused as to what kind of help she was offering you. 

“If you wanted to experience sex with people you trust for your first time, I have no doubt Franky would jump at the opportunity. I would be there too, of course, to guide you. We’re very… open… to new experiences… if you’re understanding what I’m saying.” 

“Oh…” Your eyes widen. It might be a good idea to finally get that awkward first time out the way, especially with someone you trust and know well. “I mean… yes? Sure. I guess I’m saying yes.”  

“Perfect.” Robin squeezes your hand. “How about tonight? After dinner? My room?”

You nod. You can’t believe you’re casually agreeing to lose your virginity to two of your closest friends. 

— —

That night, after dinner, you excused yourself from the table a little early so you could freshen yourself up. You took a quick shower, shaving your legs and trimming your bush, washing your hair with the most expensive shampoo you could find in the Sunny’s shared bathroom. After the shower you dried your hair and slathered your body in lotion. You felt like you were getting dolled up for a date, not a dick appointment. 

You perused your closet for something to wear. You wanted to look comfy and casual, but still sexy… wait why were you overthinking this? You had known Robin and Franky for years, who were you trying to impress? You shook yourself out of your racing thoughts and settled on a black pair of knee length spandex bike shorts and a black cropped tee. You finished your hair and applied a bit of makeup before spritzing yourself with perfume. You looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Ok y/n. You can do this. It’s your totally normal friends who are a robot and someone with devil fruit powers who are going to take your virginity. This is fine and normal. Your life is normal.” After a few minutes of hyping yourself up, you make your way to Robin’s room. You take a deep breath and knock on the door a few times, remembering to knock this time after your intrusion earlier. 

Robin quickly opens the door with a bright smile.

“Y/n! Come in! Are you thirsty? I have some wine.” She grabs your hand and pulls you into her room. Franky was relaxing in a large armchair against the wall facing the bed. 

“Hey pretty thing! So good to see ya!” He beamed at you with a cola in his hand. 

“Hi Frank, sorry about earlier…” You meekly apologize and stared at the floor. 

“Hey no problem! Sorry ya had to walk in on me and the lady like that without warning.” Franky pushed his sunglasses up on his head and took a sip of his beverage. 

“Here, y/n.” Robin shoved a large glass of white wine into your hand. She clinked her own glass with yours and winked. “Come sit.” 

Robin retreated to her bed and patted a spot next to her for you to sit down. You took a big gulp of your drink and sat next to her on the fluffy purple comforter. 

“So I was just telling Franky that you’re a virgin.” Robin states casually as she sips her wine. You choke on yours. 

*cough* “Oh um.. yeah…” *cough*  “I’ve never done anything really…” You sheepishly say as you catch your breath. 

“Wow, someone as gorgeous as you? I’d had never guessed. Well don’t you worry sweet thing, we’ll take care of you real nice, right mama?” The cyborg smirks and leans back in his chair. 

“Of course daddy, we’re going to make sure she feels so good.” Robin uses her free hand to start stroking your upper arm. 

“Oh, so we’re like- doing this? Now? Okay uh-“ You stutter out. 

“Well, whenever you’re ready, sweet girl. You’re just so pretty I can’t help myself.” Robin scoots herself closer to you on the bed and starts playing with the hem of your crop top. “Can I take your clothes off? I can take mine off too, if that’ll help you feel more comfortable.” Robin purrs into your ear. 

“O-okay…” 

Robin pulls your shirt over your head, breasts falling and bouncing against your chest. She then slips off your shorts, making you fully nude in front of them. 

“Wow sweet cheeks, no bra or panties? And pierced nipples? Such a little minx.” Franky remarks at your lack of undergarments. You blush at the comment about your piercings.

Robin stood up and pulled her dress over her head. 

“Isn’t she cute?” Robin smiles at you and back at Franky as she slips her panties down her legs and unhooks her bra. Her incredible rack was staring you straight in the face and you unconsciously rubbed your legs together in excitement. Her body was so gorgeous and toned, you wanted to feel it on top of you. 

With both of you completely naked, Robin sits next to you again on the bed. “May I kiss you, y/n?” Robin asks, bringing her hand to your chin. 

“Yes…” You whisper, meeting her gaze. You close your eyes as she leans into you. Her kiss is soft, her lips are buttery and smooth. After a brief moment of pressing her lips to yours, she begins rolling her tongue along your lower lip, silently asking for you to open your mouth. You oblige and she slips her tongue into your mouth to explore it eagerly. You bring your hand up to cup the side of her neck. 

“Mmph!” You huff out in surprise as she slid one of her hands up to your breast and experimentally toyed with your nipple. You continue to make out as her hands play and squeeze at your breasts. Robin pulls back from your lips, continuing her ministrations on your tits, rolling the silver barbells in her fingers.   

“You’re so sensitive, little one, can’t wait to see what else turns you on.” Robin giggles. 

“Spread her legs, mama, wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky prompts her from his chair. 

Quickly, Robin is behind you, your back pressed against her ample chest. She gentlly takes your calves and hooks them over her spread legs so you were fully exposed for your robot lover. She begins open mouth kissing on your neck from behind and you sigh at the feeling. 

“Can I touch you, y/n? Is this okay so far?” Robin whispers into your ear. 

“Yes… I want you to touch me…” You whimper out, body aching for more contact. 

“But no one has ever touched you here… right? Maybe just yourself?” She slid one of her hands down to cup your mound. Her voice became more sinister. Your face and ears were bright red, feeling embarrassed but your sexual desires were too strong so you pushed the feeling aside. 

“Just me, Robin… no one else…” 

“hmm… So you know what you like? How about this? Do you play with your little clit like this?” Robin coos at you as she begins to apply pressure to your throbbing bud and rub it in circles, your pussy was leaking at this point. 

“Hnnnnn, yes! Yes I like this!” You whine out. 

Robin continues slowly rubbing your clit and kissing your neck. She uses her free hand to pinch your nipples. Wait, was that a third hand? You looked down and you had one hand touching your sex and two on your breasts. You had never thought about it before but her devil fruit powers were certainly useful in this situation. 

“You two look so super like this…” Franky lowly slurs out as he takes another sip of his drink from across the room. “You know she won’t be able to take me if you don’t stretch her first mama…” He adds. 

“I’m getting to it… let me enjoy her first. You’re so impatient my love. Don’t forget who’s in charge here. I want to make it special.” Robin teasingly scolds her boyfriend as she doesn’t falter in her movements against your clit. 

“Mmmm- more please! Wan’ more!” You wanted to feel something inside of you, having been worked up by Robin’s hands. 

“Aww what a sweet baby. I can give you more.” Another hand appeared and one slender digit slid into your aching hole. 

“Robin!” You gasp out and lean your head back on her shoulder. She slowly dipped her finger in and out of your cunt as you moaned in pleasure. She added another finger and you yelped. 

“Have you made yourself cum like this, y/n?” 

“Yes- nnghh! But you’re! You’re so much better! Ah!” You breath out as she pulls and taps on your sweet spot with her soft fingers. 

“You’re too kind, baby.” Robin smiles down at you on her shoulder. “Daddy is pretty big, sweet girl, so I’m going to have to add another finger, okay?” She has another hand stroking your hair. 

“O-okay… Fuck!” Robin adds a third finger into your weeping cunt and bullies them all into your spot. You felt a familiar yet stronger feeling build up in your lower half. You were sighing and moaning as you look towards Franky in the armchair. He had shed his minimal clothing and there was a hand sprouting from the chair and stroking his large cock. You had no idea how that was going to fit inside you, although your mouth watered at the sight of it. It was cut, thick, and gorgeous. Your orgasm was so close. 

“I think- I think I’m gonna cum, Robin! I wanna cum!” 

“Go ahead and cum, sweetheart, want you to feel so good….” She continues her work on your pussy as you slam your eyes shut in pleasure. You feel your orgasm rip through your body and spill out onto Robin’s hands. You moan out loudly. She slowly pulls out her hand and rubs your cunt comfortingly. 

“That was so good, little one! You’re so wet and open, I think you’re ready to take daddy now.” There was a glint of mischief in her voice as she stroked the sides of your arms and kissed your cheek. 

“You… you think?” You were hazing coming down from the powerful orgasm that Robin had just given you. 

“Mhmm.” Robin kissed you on the forehead. “Come here daddy, lay down.” She nodded towards her cyborg lover. 

“Showtime, ladies!” Franky laid down on the bed, as you were sure he had done hundreds of times. “Hop on up, little one!” He beckons you with a large hand. You collect yourself and straddle his huge hips. 

“I.. I don’t… I don’t really know what to do, should I-?” You sputter out, your eyes darting from Robin’s and Franky’s. 

“Let me help, sweetheart… You ready?” Robin leans forward and grabs Franky’s thick cock and lines it up with your soaking hole. You nod.

Another hand grabs your hip and begins to lower you down onto Franky’s dick. 

“Ahh! It’s too much!” You felt the sting of his fat member stretching you out as it entered your virgin cunt. 

“It’s okay! It’s okay just take it slow, okay?” Robin was kissing your upper arm as she guided you down further onto the man below you. “I’m right here…” 

You mewled and whined as you slowly took Franky inch by inch. Eventually you felt your muscles relax as your body was flush to his. He was fully seated inside you. 

“You did it! You did it, y/n! Mommy and daddy are so proud of you! Look how pretty you are with a cock inside you!” Robin gleefully released your hip to tilt your head down to look at where Franky’s dick was balls deep in your little hole. 

“Ohhhh pretty girl, you’re so TIGHT!” Franky exclaimed as he grabbed your hips with both hands. “Never felt anything like this!” He praised you as he rubbed loving circles into your pelvis. 

“I.. I did it…” You were breathless, never having felt so full in your life. 

“Can I fuck her now, mama? Please?” Franky looked up at Robin, pleading to be able to wreck you. 

“Yes, daddy, but don’t scare her off now. Be gentle.” Robin captured your lips in a soft kiss to distract you from her boyfriend planting his feet and beginning to thrust upwards into your tight hole. 

“OH- Robin! Ah!” You moaned against her lips as your lover began to rut into you from below. It was so big and rubbing against your sweet spot so deliciously. 

“I know sweetie, I know. You’re doing so good, taking daddy’s cock so well!” Robin cooed as she pulled back from your lips. 

“Come on mama, take your seat. I want both!” Franky panted out as he thrust into your pussy. 

Robin giggled as she moved to hover over Franky’s face and sat down on his waiting tongue. Robin sighed as she felt his tongue move against her wet folds. She leaned forward into you and wrapped her arms around your neck as you continued getting speared by Franky’s cock. 

“Isn’t this mmhmmm- nice, y/n?” She mewled out as Franky sucked on her clit. 

“AH YES!” You shrieked out, feeling your belly begin to tighten again. You felt a hand rubbing your sensitive, engorged clit. You felt two more hands pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples. You felt two more hands squeezing your ass cheeks in addition to the large metal ones clutching your hips desperately. There was so much stimulation from every direction you could barely take it. Robin captured your lips in a messy kiss. 

“Come on girls, I can’t take much more of this!” Franky shouted from underneath you both, he was clearly affected by your tight wetness. 

“I want to kiss her for a little, be patient, daddy.” Robin pulled away briefly to scold him playfully. She dives back in to your swollen, wet lips. You grab the back of her head with both hands, the pleasure driving your boldness. The lewd wet slurping of Franky on Robin’s pussy was causing you to clench on the dick inside of you. Robin was keening and moaning into your mouth and you had never seen anything so hot. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m going to cum. Want to cum with me, little one?” Robin looks you in the eye and continues her work on your sensitive bits. 

“YES! Fuck I’m right there, please daddy!” You shriek out.

“Soak me, cum on me, ‘wanna feel it!” Franky pushes into you as far as he can go and your body spasms and creams all on his robot cock. You scream out in pleasure. Robin moans his name as she, too, finishes all over him. His blue hair was soaked in Robin’s gushy release. Robin kisses you deeply as you both finish your orgasms. 

“Let me fill her, please mama, wanna stuff her so bad!” Franky begged his partner from underneath you. 

“Of course daddy, anything you want.” Robin moved off his face and pinched his nipples to encourage his finish. 

“FUUUUCK-“ Franky groaned loudly as he spilled himself deep inside your no-longer-virgin pussy. You fell forward, burying Franky’s face in your sweaty breasts. You were so dick drunk you couldn’t move. 

“Come on little one, let’s get you tucked into bed.” Robin lifted you off Franky’s cock with her strong arms and laid you down under the covers. 

“Th-thank you guys…” You whisper out. 

“Hey, after that? I’ll let you join me and the lady ANY time!” Franky proceed to tuck both you and Robin into her comforter and head out to finish his repairs for the evening. 

“Robin that was… so incredible…” You stroked her jaw as you laid in bed facing each other. 

“Well sweetie, if you want to part of our little arrangement, I think we could make it happen…” Robin giggled at you as she raked her fingers through your hair. 

“Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow…” And you drifted off to sleep. 

[alvie-pines]

So, I just want to say something real quick about Wilbur Soot and the expectation fans have of all his friends to come out and immediately make statements and drop him. I particularly want to talk about Tommy because i see parallels between his relationship with Wilbur and my relationship with an adult who made me feel responsible for his wellbeing. I am not saying that their relationship is like this, just that based on what we've seen it could be, and we should be prepared to be empathetic and understanding to Tommy in case it is like this.

So some background. Starting at 13 or 14, I had a friend in his thirties who made me feel responsible for his mental health. I won't go into great detail, but I was constantly reassuring him and trying to keep him from killing himself, which was something he gave me multiple scares about. He would disappear and not respond to messages for days or weeks after posting suicide notes on his tumblr... but he was fine every time, just stepping away. Still, it scared me every time, and I felt like I hadn't been doing a good enough job helping him be happy.

I was friends with him from 13 to 16 and I felt responsible not just for his happiness, but his life.

It was so difficult to end that friendship that it took him blocking me multiple times before i could accept that he wasn't my responsibility anymore.

I defended him, let him get away with shit, let him have way more power over my life and beliefs and relationships than he should have. Because i was so toxically attached to him and believed what he told me, I seriously hurt my best friend in the whole world and I will never be able to fully express how sorry I am for it.

I'm saying this because there is evidence that Wilbur and Tommy's relationship contains similar dynamics. Wilbur has said that he relies on Tommy for his mental health. They met when Tommy was, what, 15? That's not healthy. Wilbur is an adult. I've also heard that Tommy has had to talk Wilbur down from suicide. This is extremely similar to what I experienced, and as much as it discomforts me to be seriously speculating about two ccs' relationship off-camera, I can't help but see the strong similarities to my story.

And Shelby's story corroborates this kind of behavior from Wilbur. She also was made to feel like Wilbur relied on her. For Shelby it was about his living situation--she felt like he needed her to take care of him, like he was too traumatized or depressed to take care of his own house and affairs, and if she stopped doing it it just wouldn't get done. And because she is a kind person, she didn't want to leave him like that.

This kind of behavior traps the victim in a relationship with the abuser by making them feel guilty if they try to leave or even distance themselves. It makes the victim feel like they cant hurt or go against the abuser in any way, for fear of blood on their hands, literal or metaphorical. It drives you to defend them, to try to stay by their side even as they prove themselves a terrible person.

So if Tommy isn't immediate and decisive in dropping Wilbur, I think we should be understanding. In these sorts of manipulative relationships, its really hard to speak badly of the abuser, and its hard to accept when others say they're abusive. That's an aspect of the abuse.

It took me until I was 13 to even be consciously aware of my mom doing this to me, and I only became aware of that "friend" doing it when I hadn't spoken to him in years.

This is the sort of thing that is VERY difficult to process and navigate and I think we should give Tommy, and other people close to Wilbur, some grace in navigating it. They should still drop him, but I think we should let them take some time because dropping an abuser who acts like this is very difficult, and they make it so on purpose.

[widowbitessting]

We never got to know how wanda’s dentist appointment went ☹️ could u maybe uhm, write about how it went? 🥹

The amount of searching, reading and re-reading I had to do for this😂 I hope you like nonnie, it dusted my writing fingers off for sure!

This is for the people who need just that extra bit of fluff today xox

Love Livvy

To say it put a damper on Wanda's perfect day, was an understatement.

Day. Officially. Ruined.

All because she has to go to the dentist.

There isn't anything she hates more than going to the dentist.

Except this very moment right now.

Leaving you back in the apartment with Carol, while she has no other choice than to go sit in a chair while a woman sticks her fingers in her mouth.

God, she doesn't like the dentist.

From it's too sterile smell, to the overly cheery receptionist (who blushes every time Natasha speaks to her), to the reclining chair that squeaks every time Wanda sits in it.

Yeah, the dentist sucks.

Wanda is pouting in the car, chin resting on her hand as she glares out of the passenger window.

Natasha sits next to her, one hand on the wheel while her other rests on Wanda's thigh.

Her thumb softly moves in small circles in a way that normally soothes any anxiety Wanda has.

But today it just irritates her.

As Natasha brings the car to a stop, Wanda grips her hand and puts it back on the gear stick.

"Still being grumpy, hmm?"

"Obviously."

Natasha can only let out a small laugh before glancing at her pouting partner.

"Really don't wanna go today, eh?"

"No I do not." Wanda grumbles, letting out a huff to ensure Natasha fully knew how annoyed she was.

"Not only did you carry me to the car, which was extremely embarrassing - "

"You don't hate it when I'm taking your ass to bed."

"...irrelevant. Anyway. You carried me to the car and you let Y/N watch!"

"And she loved every second, bunny." Natasha smiles.

"But you also took me away from our new girlfriend! We've been official for like 2 hours! It's not fair."

"Carry on, sweet. Get it all out." Natasha starts driving again.

"And not only do you take me away from her, mid kiss may I add, you drag me away to go to the dentist!"

"Sorry but you had an appointment, baby girl."

"We also have a new girlfriend!"

"Don't raise your voice at me, baby. Remember your place." Natasha warns.

Wanda quickly backs off.

"Sorry."

"Better. And we haven't left her. Carol is with her. They'll still be there when we get back home."

"But she's there now. And we're not."

"Wanda." Natasha says, glancing in her direction. "I know you're sad about having to leave Y/N. But I had to leave too. I even rang ahead and tried to postpone your appointment but it was too short of notice."

"Oh."

"Exactly. We won't even be an hour, my love. In and out, back under the blanket with Carol and Y/N before you know it."

"I swear to God, if we get back and they're doing stuff I'll -"

"Be my jealous little bunny?"

"...yes."

"How about we do our own stuff in the back of the car when we're done here. See if we can really make the receptionist blush."

"I just can't believe I didn't get a lollipop."

"You bit her finger, Wanda."

"And? She was hitting on you; while her fingers were in my mouth. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not bite your dentist." Natasha is smiling, biting her bottom lip as she tries, and fails, to suppress her laugh.

"I reacted perfectly, thank you." Wanda smiles. "Now she knows not to hit on what's mine."

"Is that so, bunny? Didn't like the fact that your daddy was being hit on?"

"Not at all."

The red head leans down to drag Wanda's lip into her mouth.

"I think I like it when you get jealous, darling." She says. "It's hot."

The two stumble into the wall.

"Shall we go and see our ladies upstairs?" Natasha asks. "Tell them how brave you were and how healthy your teeth are...and how you now have a warning next to your name."

"Not my fault, she deserved it."

The two kiss again.

And when they get back upstairs, they kiss you and Carol.

Over and over until you're a giggling mess under their bodies.

"Y'know," Wanda says, nestling into your neck. "The dentist isn't too bad."

"Yeah?" You ask.

"Yeah." Wanda replies, "'cos now I get to come home to you."

"Oh, I see how it is," Carol gasps. "Me and Natasha aren't enough for you!"

The blonde flops back dramatically.

"My heart! Oh, it's wounded."

"Oh can it, Danvers." Wanda smiles. "You knew what I meant."

"I can't - oh, I'm so upset..."

Wanda moves from you to jump on Carol, causing them both to fall off the couch and onto the floor.

Natasha pulls you closer as you enjoy the show, of Wanda tickling Carol relentlessly.

"I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"I do," You say. "I do.

[lbulldesigns]

AITAH FOR GHOSTING MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS FOR THREE YEARS, FOR MY OWN MENTAL HEALTH?

Posted 7th of January, 2024

Disclaimer: mentions of self-harm, violence, and attempted suicide.

Please bear with me. This post will be long.

I (20f) have been estranged from my family for the past three years.

I want to start off by saying that my family aren't bad people. They were never abusive, and they did care for me, but they could never understand me or the full extent of my issues.

Some background. When I was around five, my sister (26f), we'll call her V, and I witnessed our parents' death at the hands of some trigger-happy Enforcers. We don't know why they decided our parents deserved to die, but they did, and we were left orphaned when the authorities couldn't find any other family to take us in.

We bounced around in the system for a while, fearing being torn from each other at any moment, before a family friend was able to foster and then officially adopt us. Our AD (adoptive dad) was a godsend, he was and still (to my knowledge) is the most patient and gentle man I know. Despite looking like a wolf LOL.

Along with gaining a new father we also gained two brothers (twin 23m) the older twin (C) takes after our dad, Kind and patient. The younger twin (M) however is a little nasty bitch, who took upon himself to make my life in particular an ongoing hell. He was never physically abusive, but he was verbally abusive. It felt like not a day would go by when he wasn't putting me down and treating my existence like it was something insignificant. He never had a problem with V, just me.

For the first six years everyone else would defend me, put him in his place, and overall hold him accountable but at some point, they stopped holding him accountable and just expected me to grow a thicker skin. I still remember the day when I went crying to my sister and rather than comfort me, just rolled her eyes and asked if I could maybe not take him seriously because she needed to finish her group project. To her credit, she apologised for that but it was hard to rely on her after that.

Long story short, M made my home life unbearable, and I had bullies at school that made it unbearable. Especially once I was in high school and my best (and only) friend started making friends of his own. I want to say that I was cool with this, but in reality, I turned into an absolute brat and refused to get along with any of them. I wish I didn't, but I just couldn't help but feel betrayed and genuinely acted on those emotions.

And this is how I was with everyone. Constantly betrayed and acting out. It was no wonder everyone I knew got sick of me.

My Dad was constantly worrying about me.

My older brother avoided me as much as possible, to avoid my outbursts.

My sister was just constantly swinging between feeling guilty, angry, and just done with my constant outbursts. Especially when these outbursts were directed at her girlfriend, who constantly talked about how she wanted to be an Enforcer to protect others (take a wild guess why I couldn't like her). V even slapped me for something I said (I can't remember what) to her GF that made her cry.

And my best friend... hates me.

It's my own fault, obviously.

What led to the title of my post is this.

I told my (former) best friend that I loved him and wanted to be with him, and he just raged at me. Apparently, he was seeing someone and thought that I was pulling something in order to break them up. He didn't believe me when I said that I didn't know he was in a relationship (I genuinely didn't know) but he wouldn't hear it and called me an AH and said he was done with me.

I felt humiliated and heartbroken, when I got home that day I was crying and M was the first person, unfortunately, who I came across. And the first thing he does is scoff and roll his eyes, and said "fucking crybaby".

I don't fully remember what happened, I blacked out, but I remember my dad pulling me off of M and his face was a bloody mess. I'm pretty sure that I broke his nose and then some, my dad was so angry. The angriest I've ever seen him; he actually shook me by the shoulders and demanded what was wrong with me. And when I couldn't answer, they told me to get out. Which I did.

I just bolted from the house, the sound of shouting behind me, and just kept running until I got to the Bridge of Progress.

I was just so empty and lost, and the water below looked so tempting. I was about to end it all when my guardian angel showed up.

Ez (21m) was walking by when he saw me about to jump and, without hesitation, climbed up next to me and asked what we were doing.

He saved me that day, without even trying. He listened to my whining and rather than offer me empty promises of "it'll be okay" instead said "girl you messed up. Wanna go on an adventure with me?"

We've been friends ever since.

I took him on his offer and went home to collect some things, when I got there the lights were off so I climbed up to my bedroom window and let myself in. I grabbed my clothes, some saved up cash, my laptop, and my documents (in case I needed them) and left a note for my family saying "bye".

And that was three years ago. I haven't been in contact with them, I don't follow them on social media, and I left my mobile behind so they were never able to get hold of me.

I completely and utterly. Ghosted them. And I don't entirely regret it.

In the last three years I have gained close friends, experienced new things, seen interesting things, and have felt well enough to actually want to seek therapy. My mental health improved greatly, although I still have issues but still am lot better than I was before.

However, I can't help but feel like an AH. My family weren't bad, just fed up. They are genuinely good people (even M) it's just that I bring the worst out in people. But recently I've been wondering if I should reach out or not.

What if doing so disrupts their lives? What if my leaving improved their lives?

I don't know.

AITAH if I reach out to my family after ghosting them for three years?

(This is a fanfic. Please read tags)

[spectrs]

unwavering comfort

marc spector x gn!reader (slight steven grant x gn!reader and jake lockley x gn!reader)

after a particularly tough and grueling mission, you offer to help marc with the injuries he sustained. even with his initial reluctance, he can't bring himself to continue pushing you away from him.

WARNINGS - mentions of blood and injuries

WORD COUNT - 3.4k

i'm depressed once again (it's because of tlou which is something i HOPEFULLY will be writing for soon) and i've been needing to write for marc, so this is what we have. this man needs someone comforting him so badly it's actually insane. anyways, i hope y’all enjoy it <33 (also someone please let me know if this shit makes sense)

P.S - this takes place in chicago since i rarely see anything with the moon boys in my city (yes i live in chicago)

You had been waiting all night for the sound of the front door opening.

Your back was stiff and the noise from the bustling city below kept you from falling asleep, but at some point during the night you dozed off, only stirring when you heard Marc's keys clink against the doorknob as he gently pushed the door open. Your body immediately jumped into action and you stood up quickly, rushing to the door.

The first thing you noticed was how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent and his shoulders were slumped, a major contrast to the way he usually held himself with confidence. He had barely walked two steps into your apartment before he dropped his duffle bag and slumped against the wall, sighing wearily and closing his eyes.

You rushed to his side, knowing he would argue if you helped, but you didn't care. You gently grabbed his arm and directed him to the couch you laid on not even a minute ago. He clumsily sat down and groaned, the sound sending chills down your spine. You ignored it and pulled a chair next to him, already grabbing the things you'd gathered that afternoon for his arrival.

Even though your hands were busy with the task in front of you, your eyes couldn't help but wander to Marc's beat-up body, patches of his shirt and jacket caked in blood.

You knew the suit helped with the injuries he sustained during missions, but it wasn't capable of healing them fully. You were reminded of that every time you saw his bare body, his skin littered with scars from slashes and bullet wounds.

You reached up and your fingers skimmed the edge of his shirt, then grabbed it fully and took it off his body. He stayed silent, his eyes directed to the ground. He flinched as your hands traveled across the newly opened cuts and his shoulders tensed when you placed your warm hands on his skin. You felt his hand push yours away, and you looked up to see him staring at you.

“I don’t need your help. I’ve done this before on my own.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. “Even in a state like this?”

“Believe it or not, I can take care of myself.”

“Well,” you said, grabbing a plastic bottle of alcohol from the table. “Did you know you don’t always have to?”

He didn’t say anything. He let his eyes fall to the ground again, his body still alert and rigid. You made quick work of disinfecting the lacerations on his chest, then grabbed from the assortment of bandages. “So,” you started. “What did Khonshu have you doing this time?”

“Just a simple extraction.”

“Simple, my ass. How come you’re so beat up?”

“It went sideways.”

You sighed, letting go of the bandage in your hand and looking up at him. “How long will it take before you trust me, Marc?”

He turned to you, a hint of surprise behind the stoic mask. “What?”

“How long have we been together?”

He looked at you for a moment before answering. “About a year.”

“I understand you’ve had a tough life. I may not know much else, but I know that. I just want you to know that you don’t have to hide anything you don’t want others to know. I love you and I trust you. You have to do the same.”

He huffed, standing up and pushing your hands away. “Listen, I don’t expect you to understand what I’ve been through. But I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help with anything.”

“Marc, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” You stood up as well, an exasperated look on your face. While it was true you didn’t know exactly what he’d been through, you desperately needed him to know he didn’t have to suffer in silence like he had his whole life. It truly hurt you to see him shut his feelings away, especially after Steven and Jake warned you about his “coping skills.”

He scoffed. “This is what I’ve done my whole life. You aren’t going to change that.” A moment of silence. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes, but you weren't even sure if he realized that because he never stopped talking.

"Maybe it's easier for Steven and Jake to accept this kind of thing, but not me. I don't care how hard you try. I don't care if you try to pressure me into it or even get Steven and Jake. I don't need your help with this. I don't need your help with anything."

When he was done, the only signs of his pure irritation were the emotionless pits of his eyes and the downward curl of his mouth as he glared at you. You felt your jaw clench and your nails dig harshly into your palms. It felt like he took pride in visibly hurting you, seeing your eyes well at the sound of his resistance towards your help.

God, it didn't even feel like he loved you.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren't sure if you didn't feel the way he did.

“Well, since you’re so fucking adamant about doing this yourself, then take it." you spat. You gathered the things on the table and walked past him, thrusting them into his arms.

"I'm going to bed." Those last words were a mutter, and you couldn't bring yourself to care if he'd heard them or not. You walked into your room and slammed the door, letting the tears spill from your eyes. You slowly walked over to the bed and lowered yourself on it, letting the anger overcome you. The same sounds from the streets below that prevented you from falling asleep did the opposite this time, slowly sending you to sleep. You felt the salty tears staining your cheeks and the pillow, but you didn’t care.

You really did want to help Marc. You just didn’t know how. You felt helpless, angry at yourself because you felt like you were allowing him to suffer on his own.

You woke to a soft rustling behind you. It was barely morning, the sun slightly peeking through the windows. Based on the gentle grip his hands had around your waist, you assumed it was Steven. His head was nestled into the crook of your neck and his breathing was steady. You lay there for a moment, savoring the peace, then slowly got up. You lifted his arm from your waist, but it gripped you tighter. You let out a small laugh, feeling his eyes open and his mouth curl into a smile.

“Good morning, love.”

“Good morning, Steven,” you said, turning around to look at him. His curls were roused and his eyes weren’t fully opened, but other than that he looked content. You brought your hand up to his face, letting your hands rub against the stubble growing on his cheek.

“How’s Marc doing?”

He sighed. “He forced Jake to take the body after your… confrontation last night. Neither of us has talked to him since.” His voice held a hint of pity, and you regretted bringing Marc up.

“Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“He does, he just can’t bring himself to…”

You raised your eyebrows at him in question. “Can’t bring himself to what?”

“He just… doesn’t know how to deal with-”

He stopped talking, his eyes suddenly darting to the reflection in the window. He nodded slightly, closed his eyes, then opened them again. You smiled, realizing who was in control of the body.

“Hi, Jake.”

“Hello, cariño. I needed Steven to give me the body for a moment, but he’ll be back.”

“Is that what you were telling him?”

“Yes. Now, continuing his explanation, Marc doesn’t know how to deal with someone actually caring for him. I’m sure you already know of his brother’s death, his mother’s extreme abuse, and his father’s ignorance, so I’ll just-”

“Wait, what?”

He gave you an odd look before speaking. “You didn’t know about that?”

“No, I didn’t know…” you confirmed, eyes wide with shock.

“He never told you that much?” His voice mimicked your expression, pure surprise.

“He never really bothered to get that specific.”

“Mierda, this is worse than I thought. I would’ve assumed he’d told you that much, I didn’t think he’d be so vague.”

“Well, he was.”

He sighed, his arms tightening around your waist. You knew how painful it was for Jake to witness Marc go through so much abuse. You had a vague idea of how DID develops, so you'd always assumed he had some traumatic event from his childhood. Pity always filled your heart at the thought of that. You also knew Jake's purpose was to protect Marc from any further abuse.

"Cariño?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

“Are you sure?”

You nodded your head in response.

“Jake, tell me how to help Marc. I can’t stand seeing him suffer in silence, not when he’s been doing it his whole life.”

A sigh left his mouth, and you felt his thumbs start to rub circles into your hips.

“If I’m being honest, I’m not sure how you can help. Even we can’t half the time.” His voice sounded heavy with remorse, as if it was his fault Marc was feeling this way. Your hand, still on his cheek, caressed his skin and jaw, and you felt him lean into your touch.

"The times you are able to help him, how do you do it?”

That conversation happened two days ago, and now you found yourself in a similar place compared to the night the situation occurred. You were curled up on the couch, an old movie playing in the background. You paid no attention to it, your eyes glued to your phone. The time jumped out at you like an ongoing alarm, the numbers reading 2:01 in the morning.

The last time you saw any of them was five hours earlier when Jake pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and told you he was going out for a drink. He’d denied your company, saying he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you if he drank too much. You had a feeling that he was lying, that he was actually going out to help Marc by using his drunken state to convince him to let you help him. If he suspected you knew, he didn’t say anything, instead grabbing his beaten newsboy cap and waving you goodbye as he walked out the door.

You convinced yourself they’d be fine, and as soon as they left, you opened your bottle of rum and sat yourself down on the couch. Your goal was to try and relax after the past three days of stress. It worked for the first couple of hours, the liquor loosening your muscles and allowing your mind to wander happily. After the four-hour mark, you started to worry a bit. Normally they’d be back at this hour, the odor of mixed alcohol and the sound of the running shower filling the apartment. Now, you were frightened.

Their ability to fight and defend themselves was extraordinary, but they were still affected by alcohol. You didn’t know how well they fought when they were drunk or high, but you had a feeling it wasn’t useful. That, among other things, was what led you to this, hunched over and eyes attached to the glowing screen.

You jumped as you heard the clinking of keys on the other side of the door, paranoia flooding your senses. When the door opened and the strong smell of whiskey came breezing through, you rid yourself of the paranoia and rushed to grab Marc before he fell.

You remember how scared you felt the first time he came home like this, stumbling and slurring his speech. That was when you discovered his past addiction and how hard he’d been trying to keep it in the past, finding out from Steven profusely apologizing the next morning for Marc’s relapse. You never said anything about it to Marc, finally mentioning it when he had apologized for it.

This time, it didn’t feel the way it normally did. Of course, he’d be irritable, but at some point, he’d tell you he was okay and that you didn’t need to worry about him. Now, as your hands wrapped around his bicep to pull him up, he shook it out of your grasp and stumbled across the room. It shouldn’t have hurt you to see him do that, but you felt a pang of hurt as you watched him.

“How much did you drink?”

He scoffed. “If you want to help, you can fuck off.”

“Answer my question, Marc.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? Jake was the one who was fronting at the bar.” His speech was slurred slightly and he looked exhausted. You felt another pang of emotion, but it wasn’t pain or anger. It was guilt.

“Why are you so upset with me?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I haven’t seen you since the night you got back.”

He sighed, visible irritation lacing his voice. "Look, can we just talk about this in the morning?"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not letting you walk away from me just to have you disappear again. I'm not fucking letting that happen."

"So, what? What do you need from me that's so goddamn important right now?"

"You know exactly what."

"I don't. Indulge me."

"Stop being a dick.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for not knowing what you’re talking about. Just tell me so we can move on.”

You scoffed, appalled by how avoidant he was being. “Why are you so upset with me?”

“Is that what’s so important?”

“Marc, please just talk to me. I don’t want to see you suffering like this.”

Another scoff, but this time it came from him. “What do you know about what I’ve been through? I haven’t told you anything.”

“Jake did.”

He paused, his eyes refusing to go anywhere except your face, darting around to find any sense of lying. Your face remained the way it was, unsmiling and glaring in his direction. You prayed this would work, not knowing what else to do if it didn’t.

“What?”

“He told me everything. I never asked him to and he just assumed you’d already told me, but I guess we were both wrong on that account.”

Now, he stood silent. His body was visibly tense, his hands and jaw clenching.

“What did he say?” The venom in his voice almost made you laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you said you didn’t give a shit if I tried to get them to help me.”

Silence again. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you’d run away with the look of pure rage on his face. He wouldn’t act on it, no matter who it was directed towards. You knew he would just hide again, let Steven or Jake take control, and abandon them for a while, just to let things calm down. You were determined not to let that happen anymore. He couldn’t continue pushing away until every suppressed emotion became too much to bear.

You looked at him, his expression and demeanor unchanged. He wasn’t looking at you, but his attention was directed towards a mirror, making it clear he was talking to one of the others. You studied him carefully, watching the way his eyes moved to the floor in shame, almost, then back up to whoever was speaking. Then, finally, he turned to stare at you. You were shocked to find his eyes slightly glossed over, and he said nothing as he gently grabbed your wrist and sat you down.

“Listen… I don’t exactly know how to begin this since I don’t really do this-”

He stopped as you took his hands in yours, gently rubbing the rough skin. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Tell me as much as you think you need to.”

He sighed and looked down at the floor. “I don’t want you to pity me.”

“I could never.”

He looked up, his eyes holding so many emotions it made you want to cry. You truly wanted his suffering to end, to let him know he could trust you. At this point, you weren’t even sure if he did. If anything, you were hoping this could prove the presence of his trust.

“Did Jake go into detail?”

“No, he was brief about it.”

“Hm. Well,” he started. “I had a younger brother, Randall. When I was younger, I convinced him to come into this cave with me. I didn’t know about the rain. He…” His eyes were fully glossed over now, his expression making it seem like he was about to burst into tears. You squeezed his hands slightly, silently urging him to continue.

“He drowned that day. I don’t think my mother ever forgave me for killing him. After his shiva, she would shut herself in her room and just drink away. I can’t remember a time after that I haven’t seen a bottle in her hands. Of course, I couldn’t do anything about it, since she would scream every time she looked at me. Always claiming it was my fault and accusing me of being jealous, knowing I’d do something like that. She started that bullshit on my birthday, and I ran away. That was when…”

“You made up Steven.”

“Yeah. Everything’s a blur after that. Yelling, arguments, beatings. I wasn’t even sure when Jake came into the picture. At some point, I left. My dad tried to make me stay but I couldn’t bring myself to. That’s when I joined the Marines, then became a mercenary. The rest you already know.”

You took a minute to take in everything he told you. God, if only you had known beforehand. You would’ve been so happy to help him, to help him through whatever leftover emotions he had from his childhood. You kept your mouth shut for a second, not wanting to say anything.

“It’s not your fault, Marc."

The whole time, he’d been looking everywhere but you. It was like he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye and admit everything he’d buried away. But at your words, he looked up.

“What?”

“You were a kid, you didn’t know what would happen. Sure, your mother was grieving, but she had no fucking right to take it out on you."

He scoffed. “He was my responsibility.”

“And you did what you could. She or your father shouldn’t have let you go off on your own, not at that age and especially considering where you lived. Chicago is a dangerous place.”

“But she still-”

“You don’t have to listen to her anymore. I don’t know if she’s dead or not, but I don’t care. If she’s still around, I’m making sure you never have to go near her again. I promise.”

He was silent for a moment, letting your words sink in and burrow themselves into his brain. Almost all his life, he’d only known pain. Maybe the first few years were okay, but that day in the cave made his life absolute hell. He had never done this with Steven or Jake or Layla. He thought he couldn’t trust them enough. Now that he finally found someone who would listen and care for him and love him, his life suddenly wasn’t so bad.

He didn’t realize the small tears running down his face. He only knew when you slowly pressed your lips to his cheek and kissed them away. When you pulled back, he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the universe.

“God, what did I do to deserve you?”

You smiled at him and said, “Everything you’ve done for me, baby.”

A smile crept onto his face and he pushed you back against the couch. Confused, you lay down with a puzzled expression, but it turned into a look of love as he lay against you, his head between your legs. You smiled, letting your hands run through his hair and feeling the way he leaned into your touch. This was what you wanted. You didn’t want him shut away. You wanted him like this, truly comfortable and content around you.

“Marc?” His name was barely above a whisper, but he preened his head to look at you.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, grabbing your wrist and pressing a chaste kiss to it.

“I love you too, baby.”

TAGS - @low-keylover @logans-soulmate

[hexpea]

Ch. 1 - Divorcee

"You've got to be joking," you shook your head, completely baffled at the news you had just heard from the city clerk sitting behind tempered glass. They gave you an empathetic stare in return, a small, awkward smile on their face.

Your fiancé, Seiko, looked at you, also bewildered to the news that they had just heard. You'd kept it a well-tucked away secret up to that point in your relationship, but the cat was very out of the bag at this point. 

"It's been three years, how could it have gone overlooked for this long?" You whined angrily to the poor, glorified secretary in front of you. You weren't paying any mind to the look of dismay Seiko was giving you. You had flames of anger in your eyes, nothing could distract from the rage you felt at the major inconvenience that was your ex-husband. You knew him to be arrogant, immature, impolite...the list could go on.

"I'm sorry, Ms. L/N, but we can't process the marriage certificate until your previous marriage to..." they trailed off to look at the name on their computer screen once again, "Satoru Gojo...is fully dissolved. There's nothing I can do, it needs his signature for final processing."

You took a deep breath, realizing there really wasn't anything you could do. "Thank you," you tried to contain your anger. As you spoke, the clerk handed over the paperwork you needed to finish things off with your previous marriage.

With what you needed in your hands, the two of you left the city clerk's office. You kept a straight face, meanwhile Seiko was positively seething. There was a sense of betrayal from such a serious secret being kept for the entirety of your two year relationship. 

"Y/N," Seiko started with concern once you were out of earshot of the general public, "you didn't tell me you were married before."

You sighed as the two of you walked toward the subway, heading down the stairs and toward the terminal. "It's a long story," you replied in a soft tone, realizing that your serious secret could have done some major damage to your current relationship. "I kept it in for a reason."

"Well, now it's out and I need to know about it," Seiko said sternly as the two of you scanned your passes and began your wait for the ride home. "Y/N, I love you, but you can't just pass this off as if it was nothing," they hissed, trying to keep their voice low so others nearby wouldn't hear.

"Let's get home first, I'll tell you everything," you closed your eyes as if to try and meditate away the headache forming in your temples.

When the two of you returned home, you got comfortable in preparation to spill the details on your little secret. Seiko sat down with you on your sofa in your shared apartment. The two of you lived in Hokkaido. You had moved this far after your 'divorce' on purpose, in order to escape a past you longed to forget. You lived humbly, but it was a happy humble.

"Do you remember what I told you about my family?" You asked Seiko who was staring at you intently as the two of you lounged on the sofa.

"They're sorcerers, right?" They replied. When you had originally told them about your family they didn't believe it. It was a power they'd only seen in movies, so they were immediately starstruck. They didn't ask much about it out of respect for you, but that didn't stop them from ignorantly researching from time to time.

You nodded toward their response. "Right, there's a lot of...bureaucracy within that community. It's almost like it's own governmental body," you awkwardly laughed to yourself for a moment, "a lot of the time, the Japanese government has to speak to us first regarding certain matters." How you spoke of this 'community' made it seem incredibly serious to Seiko, their heart fluttered from the stress of your statement. "Essentially, families involved, certain families, have sorcery that can be and have to be passed down through generations. We all play a part."

You began to recall the moment you were pulled into that room those years ago, a recent graduate of the technical college, newly aged nineteen.

You came from a lineage of 'imbuers.' With a technique not made for combat, your family's power involved imbuing and maintaining cursed objects; something only your family could do. Though it was not often needed, it was still a critical part in the community, critical enough for your family to be considered a part of one of the 'big three' but not enough to make it the 'big four.' Though this did mean your family had a certain closeness to those three other families: Kamo, Zenin, and Gojo.

You had been called to the Gojo estate after work, it was a job you had recently acquired to keep yourself busy and to gain a sense of independence from your smothering family. Your parents were already there after attending a previous meeting with the head of said clan. You weren't told the subject of the meeting, just that it would be between your parents and the head of the Gojo family. Per usual for these visits, you wore a traditional kimono. It's fabric and tightness noticeably uncomfortable after your long work day. You could think of a thousand different places you'd rather be.

You were lead into one of the smaller rooms toward the back of the estate, your sock feet shuffling along the wood floors. An attendant slid back the shoji door for you to find yourself being the last one to arrive.

Your parents, as well as the head of the Gojo clan and his wife, knelt on one side of a low table, their hands folded in their laps and a formal, somber look on their faces. Notably, their son who was also your age, Satoru Gojo, sat opposite of them with an open spot next to him clearly meant for you. 

He turned his head back to look at you as you entered, black sunglasses perched upon his nose. He had a pearly white smile on his face as he playfully patted the zabuton next to him to which his father gave him a stern look that Satoru ignored. You lightly rolled your eyes and took your assigned place next to him. He, too, was forced to wear a yukata for the formality of such a meeting. 

You cleared your throat and cautiously looked at each of them only to receive no response to your sudden presence other than their intense stares. 

"Um," your voice was mouse-like, "what's going on here? Why...did you all summon us like this?" Satoru's presence was certainly a surprise. Usually these meetings were about an object needing imbued where only the family heads were involved.

You noticed your parents exchanging a nervous glance at one another before looking back at you. Your mother shifted and looked toward her lap as your father took the lead. The head Gojo and his wife kept their stoic expressions.

"We've gathered you here to discuss an important matter," your father's voice almost shook in intimidation, "it concerns the future of our families and our...clans."

"You see," your mother chimed in to give her cautious support, "there has been an...arrangement made between our families." 

Knowing where this was going without needing to be told, Satoru smiled once again and placed his hands behind his head, stretching, in preparation for the big reveal. You gave your mother a look that egged her on, a look of extreme concern. You felt the beating in your chest increase as if your heart had suddenly become a steel hammer.

"It's a marriage proposal, dear," Satoru's mother piped up seriously, her voice regal but still with a hint of warmth. Her husband's stare, however... It was no wonder your parents were intimidated every time the Gojos came around.  

You felt a moment of shock, frustration, and disbelief to what you had just heard. There was no way in this day and age that this was happening. Your mind raced in search of an appropriate way to respond, an appropriate way to reject the idea. It couldn't come to you.

"A marriage proposal, are you serious?" You looked between the four of them with your eyes wide, your adolescence showing through. Your voice was shaky, a tinge of incredulity to it.

"As serious as a heart attack," Satoru sighed happily, still wearing his infuriatingly cheerful smile as if this wasn't a huge deal. He seemed completely at ease with the situation. He was clearly used to these types of 'situations' being from the top family in the realm of jujutsu.

Your father nodded earnestly, "Yes, we are. It's a...proposition that could...solidify the bonds between our clans and...ensure our continued prosperity." That was it...money. They were doing this for money. Your heart felt like it had angrily snapped in two.

"And it's not a decision we've taken lightly, dear. We've thought long and hard about it," your mother's voice was sweet, but what you heard was absolute betrayal falling from her lips. 

Seeing your disbelief, Satoru's father responded with a composed tone of anger. "It is necessary for our clan to produce an heir to keep the balance of society," Satoru's father finally spoke, his aging brow seriously furrowed. "Our son is the last of our name. It is of utmost importance that the Six Eyes as well as Limitless go on and we need to ensure that happens. Especially considering the recent events involving the special grade curse user Geto Suguru." 

Satoru's smile was quickly erased at the mention of his best friend's name. It was something he never wanted to think about again if he could.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing; marrying someone you hardly thought of as a friend, let alone a romantic partner, was unthinkable. The absurdity of it all made you want to laugh but you could tell from the air in the room alone that this was no joke.

"I..." your voice shook as you struggled to maintain your composure, "I can't believe this. We hardly know one another and you expect us to get married?!" 

Satoru, who was leaning on his hands as he sat on his own zabuton, taking things so nonchalantly, leaned forward to capture your attention. It was hard to look away from his bright blue eyes as they carelessly stared at you from behind his black lenses. 

"Look, I know it's unexpected, but maybe it's not so bad, right?" He was trying to play mediator here. He, too, had absolutely no interest in having a wife. He just wanted his family to shut up about it; he'd deal with the consequences of ultimately having no heir later.

You shot him an incredulous look, almost flinching at his words. "Seriously, Gojo? You think this is a good idea?"

He shrugged, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Who knows? We might surprise ourselves. Plus, we've known each other for a long time, right?" 

Since birth, you thought to yourself. He was essentially a childhood best friend that had drifted away in your teen years. At this point, you'd call yourselves acquaintances if anything.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again at his casual attitude. The weight of the situation bore down on you, and you turned back to your parents. "Can we at least discuss this further? I need some time to think about it."

Just before your sentence ended and your parents had a chance to respond, the head of the Gojo clan answered with a booming voice. "There is no further need for discussion. We have made our decision and the two of you will wed within the year."

You were taken aback by his forceful insistence. It was clear that he was not open to any type of negotiations or delays. The situation had taken a sharp and unexpected turn, and it seemed as though your fate had been sealed without any say in the matter. The days ahead would be filled with uncertainty and apprehension as you faced the reality of an impending marriage to Satoru Gojo, whether you liked it or not.

[starkstruck27]

Day 7 of @harringrove-flip-reverse-it!! I can't believe after today, the event I spent months preparing for is already gonna be over. I'm so glad I took part and I'm so glad for the positive feedback here, on Ao3, and just in general. I hope this final entry is as well received as the others, even though it is the saddest. It's also the longest, and it's my favorite of all of them. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Prompt: Angst - Love Letters Title: A Memory Gilded in Red and Gold Word Count: 14098 words TWs: Major character death, Child abuse, Survivor's guilt

It was July 8th, 1985. Four days after the shit hit the fan at Starcourt mall. And only two days after Billy Hargrove’s funeral. 

His dad had skipped town before his casket was even fully in the ground, taking most of his and Susan’s joint bank account with him, and leaving her and Max with practically nothing. They couldn’t afford to stay in their house anymore, and they couldn’t afford the trip back to California either, so their only option was to move into the trailer park by the end of the month and try to pick up the pieces and move on. Susan was pretty much nothing but a shell lately, the shock of losing her stepson and husband in a matter of days was really taking its toll. And Max wasn’t faring much better. She was even more quiet than usual, but trying to pretend that she was okay, and it wasn’t a very convincing act. Especially when she almost broke into tears as El told her they were moving away, too. She must’ve felt like anyone who meant anything to her was leaving her all at once, which is why Steve, Robin and the boys didn’t need to be asked twice to help them pack up the stuff on Cherry Lane before the move.

They were making good progress for the first day, packing up the things they could in the living room and getting rid of whatever Susan and Max said they no longer wanted. The house wasn’t big, so after a day, they had everything in the living room, kitchen, bathroom and Susan’s bedroom packed up and ready to go. The second day, though, was going to be the hard part.

Max couldn’t even look in the direction of Billy’s room, much less step into it, and Susan had to go to a job interview that day, so Steve had come up with a plan. Robin would help Max pack up her clothes and do her best to cheer her up, and the boys would take shifts with her so that she didn’t feel as lonely. Steve was in charge of most of the stuff in Billy’s room, as well as providing pizza for lunch and promising a trip to the arcade later on to reward them for a hard day’s work. It was all going well, and they were just about halfway done with both rooms when Dustin came to Steve, complaining that his headset got caught on something under Billy’s bed and he couldn’t get it out.

“What were you doing under the bed?” Steve asked, rolling his eyes.

“I was looking to see if there was anything under it that we would need to pack up, duh! There was nothing but exposed springs and dust bunnies, though, and my headset got caught on something, but now I can’t get it!” Dustin explained, pulling Steve further into the room and over to the bed. 

“Alright, alright, just give me a flashlight and I’ll have it out in a jiff,” Steve said, and once said flashlight was in his hand, he got down on the floor and started crawling under the bed. He shimmied his way in and finally found Dustin’s headset caught on one of the exposed springs of the old mattress. He managed to get it free after pulling on the spring, and was about to wiggle his way back out when something else caught his eye in the dull beam of the flashlight. There was a rip in the lining of the mattress, and hanging out of it was an envelope, fat with papers. Curious, Steve grabbed it, and when he pulled it out of the lining, he was surprised to see his own name written on it.

“Pizza’s here!” Robin called from the living room, startling Steve and making him hit his head as he finally came back to reality and continued to squirm his way out from under the bed. He took the envelope with him and quickly tucked it into his jacket so he could check it out later.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked as he came back out, pointing to Steve’s jacket.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Go eat your pizza, we still have a lot of work to do before we’re done, so you need to keep that energy up,” Steve said, and followed him to the living room so they could get something to eat.

After lunch, it only took them another hour or two to get everything out of the last two rooms, except for the big furniture, which Mr. Sinclair and a couple of his work friends offered to come help with the following day. They took the donation boxes to Steve’s car and then everyone piled into it, too, Steve and Robin taking the kids to the arcade, promising they’d meet up with them after dropping off the boxes at the Goodwill. Everybody had pretended not to see it when Max snuck a few little trinkets out of the boxes of Billy’s stuff, and nobody mentioned it as she stuck them in her backpack. It almost made Steve feel bad for donating the stuff, but it wasn’t his decision, so after he dropped the kids off at the arcade, he and Robin continued on to the donation entrance of the Goodwill. They gave it all to the guy who was responsible for donations, and then they went back to the arcade, standing and watching as the kids played games and tried their best to cheer Max up. At one point, they even conned Steve into getting them slushies from the snack bar, so he and Robin hopped in the line and waited as the kids continued to play.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on with you?” Robin asked as they waited, “You’ve seemed kind of lost in thought since lunchtime and you keep checking your jacket, what’s the deal?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Yes it is. I know you by now, Steve, and c’mon, we said we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other anymore, so spill,” Robin insisted, crossing her arms.

“Okay, fine, you’re right, but just wait until we get our slushies and then I’ll tell you, okay? C’mon, we’re next,” Steve said, taking a step forward and starting to rattle off their order to the guy behind the counter. Five minutes and six slushies later, and he and Robin were off in an empty corner of the arcade, and Steve took the envelope out of his pocket, showing it to her.

“I went under Billy’s bed to get Dustin’s headset earlier, and when I was coming back out, I found this sticking out of the lining,” he said, handing her the envelope.

“What do you think is in it?” She asked, turning it over and examining it.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to. I feel kinda weird for taking it. Like, on the one hand, it has my name on it, and I don’t know any other Steve Harringtons, so it’s obviously meant for me. But on the other hand, why didn’t he just give it to me, unless he didn’t want me to have it?”

“Maybe he was going to, but he never got the chance,” Robin shrugged, taking a sip of her slushy.

“Maybe, but also, why was it under his bed, hidden in his mattress lining? That’s a weird place to put an envelope you’re planning on sending,” Steve said.

“Well, Max told us about how his dad was always looking through his stuff. Maybe that was the only place he could hide it that he wouldn’t find it until he could give it to you.”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed, “I don’t know if I should open it or if I should just toss it. I’ve been going back and forth on it all day.”

“I don’t think you should toss it, but you also don’t have to open it right away. Keep it until you’re ready and then open it and see what’s inside,” Robin said, shrugging and handing the envelope back. “What can it hurt, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Steve agreed, putting the envelope back inside his jacket. 

“And as soon as you do open it, call me and tell me what’s inside, because if you don't, the curiosity is gonna kill me!” Robin said, and despite the questionable choice of words, Steve promised he would.

It ended up being that night that he opened it, just a little after midnight. He had tried to just go to sleep after getting home that night, but after a few hours of tossing and turning and wondering what was in that envelope, he finally cracked and decided to open it up and find out.

Inside was a bunch of folded up papers, and as Steve unfolded and examined each one of them, he found that they were letters, all written in the same red pen. Each one was dated, so he arranged them in order on his bed and looked them over. There were nine in total, and Steve was unsure if he really wanted to start reading them or not, but after a few minutes of deliberation, the curiosity finally got the better of him, and he picked up the first one.

October 31st / November 1st, 1984

Dear Steve,

I don’t know why the fuck I’m writing this. It’s Halloween, or, well, technically it’s not, but whatever, that’s a technicality. Either way, it’s some time after Tina’s party, and instead of going out and getting laid, I’m sitting here and writing this. I think I’m kinda drunk, although I shouldn’t be, I hardly had anything to drink tonight, including at the keg stand. Beating your record was easy, it was nothing compared to the record I held out in California. You small town hicks can’t drink for shit. So if I’m drunk, I don’t know how I got there.

Anyway, back to what I was planning on writing. I don’t understand you. I mean, I heard so much about you in the halls at school and from Tommy, but I must’ve walked past you a hundred times and I never would’ve known it. It wasn’t until Tommy pointed you out at the party tonight that I really noticed you. And I guess some of what I’ve been told is true, but I don’t believe all of it. For instance, I was told about your “unbeatable” keg record. Hah.

Still, I guess some things were true. You’re annoying, for one. Seriously, Tommy announces you’ve been dethroned and you just walk away? You could’ve had at least a little bit of a reaction, tried to insult me or something, but you didn’t, and I think that was very rude of you. Not that I care about being the new “king” of the school, but still. 

Another thing is you seem popular with the ladies. When your girl stormed out on you tonight, I saw at least three other girls follow you out the door, trying to catch up, they all wanted a piece of you. Not that I blame them, you’re pretty good looking and you do have great hair. I’d want to date you if I was a girl. Or maybe I wouldn’t. I don’t know. Like I said, I’m kinda drunk. 

Anyway, I guess I say all this to say, you’re not exactly what I expected of you from all the stories I’ve heard. You’re quite the enigma, Steve Harrington, you make me curious. I want to know more about you. What’s your middle name? Do you like pineapple on pizza? What’s your favorite Cheech and Chong movie? Personally, I like ‘Up in Smoke’. Seriously, ‘Earache my Eye’? That’s the story of my life, man. How they came up with that song, I’ll never know but it’s hilarious.

Anyway, I’m tired, and I’ve got to drive Max around tomorrow, so I better try and curb this hangover while I can. Goodnight, I guess. 

-Billy

P.S. I just realized you don’t know who Max is, but she’s my annoying little stepsister, so there you go.

Steve didn’t know what he expected from these letters, but that was certainly the last thing he’d thought he’d find. He had no idea Billy had thought about him like that from the beginning. He seemed almost friendly in that letter, like they could’ve ended up friends if either of them had given it half a chance. Which only made him wonder, why didn’t they? It could’ve been completely different, things could have played out so much better, but they didn’t, and it only made him more curious as to why as he picked up the next letter, trying to find some answers.

December 22nd, 1984

Dear Steve,

Once again, I don’t know why I’m writing this. I’m not drunk this time, but I might as well be. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear, but sometimes things in life are just easier to take when you’re drunk. That beating I gave your face a month ago, for example, that might not have hurt as much as I assume it did if you had been drunk. And this fucking holiday coming up, I swear, if my dad and Max weren’t watching me like hawks, I’d be blitzed through until New Year’s. But life sucks, so I guess I have to just fucking deal with it.

Oh, and speaking of beating you up, I’m sorry about that. I saw you driving that kid to the stupid dance at the middle school when I was dropping Max off earlier tonight, and I wanted to get out and say it to you in person, but I chickened out. She made me promise not to mess with any of you anymore, and that combined with the fact that you’d probably tell me to go fuck myself and we’d just end up fighting again anyway made me drive off without saying anything. 

But I did want to apologize. I had no right to hurt you like that. It really wasn’t you I was mad at, it was mostly my dad. He put me in charge of Max, but she snuck out and maybe I should’ve realized that, but I never signed up to be her babysitter. It was just kinda thrust on me when our parents got married, and only after we moved here. I guess they wanted to keep both of us in line, and keeping us accountable for the other was their way of doing it, but I was the only one that ever got in trouble if either of us did something wrong, so it was a rigged system anyway. And when they got home that night and found her missing, of course it was my job to go find her. This was after my dad shoved me up against a wall and slapped me across the face for “losing” her. So you can see my frustration. Still, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I was wrong for that, but I couldn’t hit my dad back, so when you hit me, I just snapped. And yeah, I started it by pushing you, but I knew there would be more to come if I didn’t get Max home, so I just wanted to get her and go, and you were in the way.

Anyway, I’m sorry about all of that. Maybe one of these days, I’ll get the courage to say that to your face, but I doubt it. Max would have my balls in a blender if I even tried to get close enough to talk to you, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear from, anyway.

But anyway, back to what I was saying. I wish I was drunk right now. I hate Christmas. I hate pretending to be a happy family so that Susan can send out Christmas cards to all her friends (Susan is my stepmom, by the way). I hate watching Max open gift after gift on Christmas morning while I get a pack of socks, a stick of deodorant, and maybe a new book, if I’m lucky. Mostly I just get ignored while she gets doted on. And it’s not like I’m jealous that she gets presents or anything, I’m just pissed that I have to pretend to care and act like I’m not hurt that they didn’t care enough about me to get anything. And most of all, I hate all the reminders that Christmas is a time to be spent with family. I don’t have one of those anymore, not since I was ten.

I mean, I still have my dad, and Susan, and Max. But they don’t exactly count. Dad is an asshole, but he’s the only one who stayed with me after everything. Susan doesn’t look at me, she turns a blind eye to everything, but I guess that’s the only way she can cope with being married to a tyrant. And Max, well, you know Max. She’s stubborn, got a real mouth on her, and she acts like the rules don’t apply to her. I know a lot of people have dead families or their families are a lot worse than mine, but still, there are a lot of people who have a lot better, and it makes me wonder, how did they manage to get that lucky? It just doesn’t seem fair.

And even through all this, the holiday might still be bearable, if I could just see my mom again. She’s the reason I lost my family when I was ten. She left that year, she couldn’t handle my dad anymore, and I always wondered why she never took me with her. She was my best friend, she took care of me. She read me bedtime stories and embroidered flowers on my clothes. She called me ‘mi pequeño amor’, which means ‘my little love’ in Spanish. There was no doubt in my mind that she loved me, so why, when she couldn’t stand living with my dad anymore, did she leave me behind? 

Sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump all that out on you. Although, I don’t know whether I’ll ever give you this letter or not, so I guess I don’t need to apologize. I mean, I want to, but I never gave you the last one, either, and if I ever do, you’ll probably think I’m insane or something, so I probably won't. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Merry Christmas, Steve.

-Billy

After reading the second letter, Steve practically dove for the third one, needing more information and needing it now. He had no idea so much was going on in Billy’s life. He suddenly felt like a world-class jerk for ever thinking anything bad about Billy, when he really had no clue what was going on behind closed doors. He had to know how things played out the way they did, and he had seven more letters waiting to explain it to him.

January 4th, 1985

Dear Steve,

Happy New Year. I know that was a few days ago, but today was our first day back at school, and I didn’t get to tell you in person, so here you go. I also still haven’t apologized, and I feel like a dick for this, but I don’t think I ever will. I mean, you seem pretty set on avoiding me as much as you can, and I guess I don’t blame you. I’d avoid me too, given our past encounters. But as much as I get it, I also kind of hate it. I still want to know more about you, but there’s only so much I can learn by watching you from afar. Wow, that sounded creepy, but I swear, it’s not. I’m a people-watcher by nature, so that’s where this is stemming from. 

Anyway, I did learn a few things. For one, you’re a sweater guy. I saw you around town a few times during the break, and every single time, you were in a soft, expensive looking sweater. Two, you have a freakishly close friendship with that kid, Henderson. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like an okay kid, better than Max at least, but frankly, I don’t understand it. But if it makes you happy, I guess that’s good. Better one weird friend than a hundred fake ones, right? And finally, three, (and I could be way off on this one, but) you seem kinda lonely. I mean, other than Henderson. But if ever he’s off with Max and their other little friends, you always look a little lost. You look like that in the hallway, too. I know it’s not how you always look, because when you were with that Wheeler chick, you never looked like this. And as soon as you broke up for good, that’s when it started. I’m sorry you’re lonely, I know how that feels.

I wish there was something I could do about it. I could lie and say that I don’t know why I wish I could change it for you, but since I’ve already decided I’m probably never going to give you these letters I write, I might as well just come out with it. Hah, see, I made a joke. I hope you understand what I’m getting at, but if you don’t get it yet, I’m rambling to try and brush over the fact that I have a thing for you. Yep, cat’s out of the bag now. 

I could also lie again and say I don’t know when it started, but I think I can pinpoint the exact moment that I started thinking of you like this. It was the first time I saw you, at Tina’s party. I didn’t know who you were, exactly, until Tommy said it, and then I think I started trying to hate you just because of who you were, but I just couldn’t. I knew I liked you and I knew I would do something stupid about it, like maybe giving you one of these letters, if I didn’t make you hate me first. It was like reverse psychology or something, make you hate me so that I’d hate you back and then I wouldn’t ever do anything about my crush on you. Maybe that’s stupid, but hey, it worked, kind of.

But anyway, earlier today, as we were walking down the halls, I felt really sorry for you. Jeez that sounds terrible, but I just mean that it made me sad that you were so lonely. I don’t want you to be lonely. If I could, I’d be by your side always, just so that you’d know someone was there. I’d be your best friend and do everything I could to make you smile instead of sulk all day. But I guess it’s too late now. I showed you my mean streak, and now you don’t want anything to do with me. God, I’d do absolutely fucking anything to change that.

Yours, Billy

The third letter hit Steve like a train. He could feel tears forming in his eyes as he read it, and now that he was done, they had started falling. How could he have not noticed Billy had a crush on him? Why didn’t he try to rectify their relationship after the fight himself? Maybe then they’d have ended up friends and things would’ve been different. He wouldn’t have been lonely, and then Billy wouldn’t have had to notice it, and everything might’ve changed. He didn’t know, and he never would. He picked up the next letter.

February 10th, 1985

Dear Steve,

I wanna set the record straight. I don’t hate Max. I really don’t. From what I’ve heard from people who have real siblings, she’s pretty much the standard. They’re hard-headed, stubborn, a bit of a bitch, but when it comes down to it, they stick by your side. That’s pretty much how she acts with me, although, maybe it’s different with stepsiblings, because sometimes it’s different. When my dad is beating on me, for example, she never jumps in and tries to defend me, or says it’s her fault, even if it is. Granted, I don’t think I’d want to get into that situation, either, but still. And as for today, when you saw us arguing in the car and gave me that look, that was something else entirely.

See, she was asking me what I’d get for someone I cared about for a valentine’s gift. She was hell-bent and determined to get something for the Sinclair kid, but she didn’t want to just do a card, she actually wanted to get him something. And I told her not to get anything. For one, she’s the girl, and as much as I’m all for equality and all that, I still think that it’d be better if she was the one getting the gift. Her mom is kinda old-fashioned, thinks that girls should all still wear dresses and be demure, polite little shells, even though that mentality was left behind in the sixties. 

And the other thing is, if Max came home with a valentine’s gift for someone, one of our parents would inevitably ask who it was for, and Max doesn’t know better than to tell them the truth. It’s the main reason I tried to scare Sinclair away from her, because if he steps one foot onto our property and asks for Max, he’s done for, and so am I. Apparently, both of our parents are stuck in the 1950s, when women were “proper” and when black people could be killed for so much as looking at a white person. And, of course, if Sinclair did end up getting her a valentine or vice versa, Max wouldn’t see the problem with saying so when we got home, and guess who would end up with a beating for “not protecting” her from him?

So, I know I haven’t been the nicest to Max, or to Lucas, but you can understand why, right? I don’t take pleasure in scaring off kids, and I don’t enjoy playing the bully to either of them. But I also don’t enjoy people getting hurt for the hell of it, which is what would happen if I didn’t try to keep them apart. And I’ve tried explaining it to Max a few times before, but she’s still living in Wonderland where everything is nice and her stepdad wouldn’t kill her boyfriend just for talking to her. So I’m doing what I can to keep all of us safe, no matter how unpleasant it may seem. 

Truth be told, it upsets me just as much as it does them. I think Lucas could be really good for Max, and I think it’s great that she has friends like him and the rest of their crew. They might be annoying and a pain in the neck, but I think they work together because of that. And Max deserves some good friends. She didn’t ask to be in this situation anymore than I did, but we’re both here, and I just wish she would understand it a bit more to make it easier on both of us. And I know I said I didn't consider her family a couple letters ago, but really, the way things are now, she's the closest thing I've got, and I guess I kinda love her for that, no matter how it might seem to anyone else. I guess we just show our affection in different ways.

Anyway, I gotta go now, I gotta talk her out of buying Sinclair a new radio so they can keep in better contact. 

Yours, Billy

P.S. Fuck it, change that “Yours” to a “Love”. It is almost V-day, after all.

This was starting to become a bit much for Steve. He didn’t know how to take all this new information about Billy. He’d spent so much time hating him, judging him, dismissing him, that he never even thought to look below the surface and try to understand if there was more to the story. He never thought that to protect someone, you might have to be a little mean to them, but now, he supposed a lot of things made sense in a way that they didn’t before. And suddenly, he found himself wanting to learn everything he could about Billy Hargrove.

March 31st / April 1st, 1985

Dear Steve,

It’s currently 11:58 at night when I’m writing this, and the clock is about to change again. So, fun fact about me, I guess, did you know that I was supposed to be born on April 1st? At least, that’s what the baby book my mom made for me said. My dad threw it out years ago, but I remember that part of it. I was supposed to be born on April 1st, 1967, but that’s not my birthday. It was actually a few days ago, March 29th, and I turned 18, finally. I came out early, I guess I didn’t want to be seen as a joke for the rest of my life. Hah.

I still feel like a joke, though. Maybe the due date was more fitting than I realized. I guess it’s hard not to feel like your whole life is a joke when life is constantly making you the punchline. Literally. 

See, around my birthday every year, my dad gets more pissy than normal. He’s always in a bad mood, that’s just his default state, but when the reminder that I’m alive comes around, he always ends up even more upset than normal. But this year was different. My birthday was on a Friday this year, and Susan decided to buy me a cake. It’s the first time she’s ever done that for my birthday. Max gets one every year, but this was the first time she got one for me. She went to Melvald’s and had them put my name on it in icing and everything. She even got it in my favorite color, blue. She said it was a milestone birthday for me, so she wanted to make it special. She put it in the fridge and said we’d have it after dinner.

But then my dad came home. He took a nap in his chair first, and then Susan woke him up for dinner. We had chicken, like we do almost every night. Dad can’t eat a lot of red meat or seafood because he has gout, and the beer doesn’t help either, so he gave up one vice for another, and it’s been chicken ever since. I'm so damn tired of chicken. But Susan tried to make it special, she added all kinds of spices and served it with noodles and a special sauce, and it was actually pretty good. But dad didn’t like it. He said there was too much going on and it made it disgusting. He likes his food bland, but Max and I liked it. We’ll never eat it again.

Anyway, after we finished, Susan got out the cake, and she put it on the table before going to get a knife. I’m really glad she waited and didn’t just bring it all out at once, because before she even got halfway back to the kitchen, Dad stopped her in her tracks. He asked what the hell the cake was for, and she must’ve been scared to death, because she couldn’t even stutter out a lie, and then my dad turned on me and asked why in the fuck I’d ask for a cake when I didn’t deserve it and I knew they didn’t have any money to spend on one. He said I was an ingrate and that I was spoiled, and then he took the cake and threw it on the ground, and it was ruined. You can see why I was glad he didn't have access to a sharp object right then, right? Then he told Susan to come with him, they had to have a talk, and then he told me that the floor better be cleaned up by the time he gets back. Then, he had the gall to apologize to Max for having to see that, and then he and Susan disappeared back into their bedroom. 

I cleaned up the cake and Max helped me, although neither of us said a word to each other as we did. She just took the plastic and as much of the cake as she could and threw it out, then handed me some paper towels and I finished cleaning up the floor. I didn’t even thank her for her help, I just told her to go to her room when it was done because she didn’t want to be there when dad came back out. And I’m glad that she listened for once, because I was right. 

Susan stayed in their room and Dad came back out then, and the first thing he did was go to the fridge and get another beer. He was kind of limping, so his gout must’ve been having a flare up and that made him even more miserable than usual, so I knew nothing good was to come. He opened his beer and drank at least half of it, and then he set it down and he came for me.

See, here’s the thing about my dad. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. If he’s upset, he’s gotta make everyone else upset. If he’s in pain, he’s gotta make someone else hurt, too. And that someone else is usually me. I don’t know why he’s like this. And it kinda fucks me up to think about it, because I should love him. He was the only one who stayed with me my whole life. He’s half the reason I exist in the first place. He fed me and put clothes on my back and always made sure we had a roof over our heads, and I should be grateful. But he also drove my mom away, and he likes to beat on me, and he blames everything that goes wrong in his life on me. And I want to love him, I want to be happy to say that he’s my dad and that he always took great care of me, but it’s just not true, and I hate it. 

Anyway, when he was half done with his beer, he came at me. He grabbed me by the collar and marched me to my room, and he slapped me around a bit and asked again why I thought it was okay to ask for a cake even though I knew we were struggling with money. I said I didn’t ask for one, Susan surprised me with it, but he didn’t believe me. He told me not to talk back to him and lie on top of it, and I wanted to say more, but he never gave me a chance. It would’ve only made things worse, anyway. So he keeps hitting me and lecturing me about how I’m an adult now and I need to be responsible for myself. It’s been the same lecture since I was ten. Respect and responsibility. Over and over he’s drilled it into my head, and over and over he says I haven’t learned my lesson and that’s why he does what he does. 

Anyway, to make a long story short, I ended up with a black eye and was locked in my room for the rest of the weekend. Apparently, I also have to start paying rent now that I’m 18, so I have to start looking for jobs tomorrow. And he said that since I think we have money to burn on extravagant food, I wasn’t going to be allowed to eat until the weekend was over. Max snuck me a turkey sandwich yesterday night and I keep emergency food in here just for this reason, but it still fucking sucked. 

I wanted to write this sooner, but I was so angry I could hardly think, so I waited. I didn’t know if I should write anything at all, because I’ve never told anyone about what goes on at home before, but I had nothing else to do in here, so I finally just did it. Besides, I wanted to tell somebody, even if I know it’s just myself. 

So, I guess I’ll sign off here. I have to try and get to bed now anyway, since we have school tomorrow. That’s the best birthday present I’ve gotten this year, the fact that I get to leave the house again and even though I know we won’t talk to each other, I’ll get to see you. I’ve missed you.

Love, Billy

There were only four letters left, and even though he was going to push through, it was getting hard for Steve to read them. The last one had left him crying like a baby, so much so that his eyes were blurred and he had to hold the paper away from his face to keep from smudging the ink. He felt like with every new thing he learned about Billy, more questions were brought to the surface, and he wasn’t liking the way any of them were answered. But he had come this far, and there were only four left, so he kept on.

May 17th, 1985

Dear Steve,

Today was actually a pretty good day. I wasn’t planning on writing anything, but I just realized that when I write you these letters, I only end up telling you the bad things going on in my life, and even though I’ve been able to learn a lot about you, you haven’t learned much about me. I mean, you know what my favorite color is and which is my favorite Cheech and Chong movie, but other than that, you don’t know much, so here we go.

First off, as of today, I now work at the community pool. I went down and got an application, and after meeting the manager, I got a job as a lifeguard. I have to renew my CPR certification at the YMCA before I can start, but I can get that done easily and be all ready to go when the pool opens on Memorial Day. I’m really excited about it, I haven’t been in a pool since before the move, and it’s not quite as good as the ocean, but it’s the next best thing. And now I can start making more money to pay my dad and to save up and get my own place, maybe. It’s gonna take a while, but that’s the goal. 

And the pool job is only gonna be temporary. Are you planning on going to college after graduation? I don’t think I’m going to. It’s a waste of money, I don’t need a fancy piece of paper telling me I sat through classes of things I already knew, so no college for me. I’m gonna go right into the workforce as soon as I graduate. I know a little bit about cars, at least enough to build my own basically from scratch, so I’m gonna try and get a job at a mechanic shop and work my way up the ranks and just learn on the job. I think that’s the best thing for me.

Oh, and speaking of graduation, I don’t know if I’m even gonna go to ours. I’ll still get the diploma in the mail, and I’d rather not spend a week practicing standing and sitting on cue just to have no one show up to clap when I walk the stage. It’s pointless. Although, I’d get to sit next to you and neither of us would have a choice in the matter, and it might be the last chance I get to be that close to you. Not in a creepy way, either. I just mean we would see each other way less often and I want to get my fill of you before that happens. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go, I’ve still got time to decide.

By the way, I had a dream about you the other night. It wasn’t dirty or anything, although I wouldn’t have minded that, but that’s not what it was. Basically, I was in this aquarium, walking down a hallway into this room. It was the coolest room ever, all four walls were part of just one big tank and so was the ceiling, so that it felt like you were inside the tank, and it was all filled with jellyfish. Most of them were bioluminescent, so there was very little light in the room, other than the light emitted from the jellyfish, and it was just beautiful. They were all different colors and sizes, and it was so pretty. And as I walked into the room, I saw you standing there, just watching the jellyfish float around with a content look on your face, and when I walked up to you, you smiled. I went up and all I said was hi, and you said it back, but you called me ‘babe’. Then you kissed me, and it only lasted a second, then you turned back and kept watching the fish. And I could actually feel my heart beating in my sleep, and I kept glancing over at you until finally you smiled and laughed and said ‘okay, okay, I can take a hint’, and you went back to watching the fish, but then you grabbed my hand and held it, and we just stood there together until I woke up. It only felt like a minute or two, but it had to have been hours, because when I woke up, I realized I had slept through my alarm and was almost late to school. I’m really gonna miss you once school is over, Steve.

Anyway, what else can I tell you about me? I guess I told you a couple things already. I like to swim, and I like working on cars. But I said I was gonna tell you more, so here we go.

First of all, I like to read. I know, I don’t really seem like a reader, do I? But there’s something safe about books, you can hide in their worlds when your own becomes too much. My current favorite is one I found a few years ago in a little shop in California, it’s called “Annie on my Mind”. I can’t remember the author’s name, but it’s a fantastic book. It’s about two girls named Annie and Liza who meet in a museum in New York City and become best friends, and after a while, they fall in love. It’s not easy, and they break up when Liza goes off to school and has to leave Annie behind, but just before it ends, they call each other and end up getting back together. It’s a sappy rom-com, but it’s so beautiful, and reading it three years ago at 15, it gave me hope for my own future. Maybe one day I’d find my own Annie. I like to think that if I ever got the courage to go for it, maybe you could be my Annie. You fit the description to a T.

But enough of the mushy stuff now. Seriously, mushrooms are gross, I hate them. That’s another thing about me, I guess. I’m not picky with my food, not really, but if there’s one thing I just can’t stomach, it’s mushrooms. Not even on pizza, and everything tastes good on pizza.

Anyway, the next thing I’ll tell you is my favorite band, at least right now. It changes a lot, but as of right now, it’s Van Halen. They’re great. Something about them, I don’t know, they just make me happy. They’re just silly, I guess. The singer, David Lee Roth, sometimes he’ll just start monologuing randomly in the middle of a song, and if you ever see pictures of them in magazines or something, the guitarist, Eddie Van Halen, he’s just always smiling. They’re great, and I love them. I hope I can get a chance to see them in concert someday.

Anyway, I’m running out of ideas of things to tell you. There’s not a whole lot of room for individuality in my life, especially with my dad constantly going through my stuff to try and find either money or another reason to rag on me, but I’ve got two more things. 

One, I think that old movies are the best kind of movies. Especially if they’re B movies. There’s something so simple about the humor, it’s all slapstick, and I think horror and mystery movies are so much creepier when they’re done in black and white. I don’t know if I can pick a favorite, but the Miss Marple movies that came out in the sixties will always hold a special place in my heart (and yes, I realize that I’m about as old as these movies, but they’re at least 20 years old, so they count as ‘old’). 

Two, Billy is actually not my real name. I mean, it is, but it’s not. I was named after my dad, and William is actually my middle name. Still, I never liked the name Neil, and it was confusing having two Neils in the house when I was growing up, so my mom started calling me by my middle name, shortened it to Billy, and then it just stuck. Now that I’m legally an adult, I’m going to get my name officially changed, I just have to save up the money. I can now that I have a job, so hopefully soon, it’ll be done.

Anyway, this letter is getting kinda long, so I should probably wrap it up soon. I didn’t mean to ramble all that time, but I just like being able to tell you things. I haven’t ever really told anyone anything about me that they didn’t need to know, not even some of my friends from back in California, but I feel like I can tell you anything. I guess that’s kinda silly, but whatever. Somehow it still feels like you’re listening, like you’re hearing me, and that’s all I need.

Love, Billy

P.S. I remembered that author’s name, it’s Nancy Garden.

The last letter had been a little bit lighter than the previous few, and it made it a little easier to read it. At least he’d been able to stop crying while reading it. It even made him smile a little, until he got to the part about graduation. He remembered that day, Billy hadn’t shown up. He swore he saw him by the bleachers on their way to the football field for the ceremony, but he had never been sure. He always assumed Billy was just being aloof and blowing it off to be an asshole. Now he knew better, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked knowing. On the one hand, it was nice to understand Billy, but on the other hand, it was a tremendous burden. He’d never be able to discuss that book with him, or sing Van Halen while driving, or watch black and white movies with him. And maybe they never would’ve anyway if Billy were still alive, but now, there wasn’t even a chance. And it wouldn’t have weighed on Steve so much if he were still alive and it never happened, either, because he never would’ve known about any of this to begin with. And now, he just had to live with it as he read the last few letters.

June 14th, 1985

Dear Steve, 

Today was the first time since school ended that I saw you. I had to drive Max and her weird little friend Elle around, and they wanted to go to the mall, so of course I had to waste my gas chauffeuring them around, but even though I was pissed about it at first, it ended up being the best thing that could’ve happened to me today. I was just gonna drop them off and have them meet me back at the doors in a few hours, but as we drove around the building, I saw you walking in through an employee door on the side, and I decided then to park and go in, too. Max demanded to know what I was doing, she must’ve thought I was gonna follow her and her friend around all day, but I just told her that there were a few stores I wanted to check out inside, then left the car before she could ask anything else and told her and her friend to meet me back there in a few hours.

It took me a while to find you, but that was okay. I was able to go around and look at a few of the stores, and there were actually a few decent ones. There was a record store, for one, and I got a new cassette I’ve been looking for, so that was cool. There were also a couple of decent clothing stores, though I doubt they’ll last. The mothers and fathers of Hawkins will probably be too scandalized by anything they sell unless it's also sold at the Gap, so hopefully, I’ll be able to get some things while I can. I don’t make a whole lot at my job, not after I pay my dad for rent, anyway, but I should be able to get a few things by the end of the summer. 

But anyway, back to what I was saying. I walked the whole mall, looking in every store trying to find where you worked, but after a thorough sweep of the whole first floor, you were nowhere to be found. I even pretended to get lost and wandered into the movie theater to see if that’s where you were, but no dice. Then I saw the escalators that led upstairs. I don’t like malls, there’s too big a chance of running into somebody that you know that you don’t want to see, so I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to, but I was determined to see you. I didn’t realize how much I would miss seeing you every day until school ended, and now I feel like if I don’t see your face at least once a week or so, I might lose my mind. I know that sounds stupid considering how little we actually saw each other in school, but it’s the truth.

Anyway, I didn’t want to leave without seeing you, and I knew Max and her friend wouldn’t be done shopping for at least another hour, so I went up to the second floor and started to look around. There wasn’t as much to see up there, mostly just more clothing and shoe stores, but then I passed these two girls, and they were tittering on about how funny and cute it was watching you trying to flirt with them. They each had an ice cream cone in their hands, and I saw the store they got it from a little farther down the hall, and figured that was as good a place as any to try and find you, so I went there. 

Scoops Ahoy! is kind of a stupid name, isn’t it? What does ice cream have to do with sailing, anyway? But whatever, it doesn’t matter, because when I looked in the window, there you were, in all your glory, behind the counter with the silliest outfit on that I’ve ever seen. Seriously, it was just like those girls had said, cute but hilarious, especially that absolutely adorable hat. Kudos to whoever designed those uniforms. And all joking aside, you wore it well. 

Well, I guess you know what happened next, you were there. I went inside and pretended to give a rat’s ass about the girl you were working with and flirted with her, but I was only trying to make you jealous. Which is stupid, right? Because there’s no way you’d ever be into me like that, but I can pretend that your face got all red because you were jealous of her and not because you wanted to flirt with her yourself and I had stolen your thunder. Not that I blame you, she’s got a certain awkward cuteness to her and you would make a sickeningly sweet couple, but you can’t blame a guy for hoping, right? It didn’t matter anyway, I guess I’m not her type, because she dismissed me before I even got going, so I guess you still have a shot.

Anyway, after that, neither of you seemed to want anything to do with me, but your girl was closer to the employee door, so she left and it was just you and me. You asked what I wanted, and to be honest, I wasn’t trying to be a dick when I said I wanted something smooth, sweet and rich, and I wasn’t referring to your coworker, I had just been so distracted up until that point that I hadn’t looked at the flavors yet, so sorry about that. 

You took it well, though, just rolled your eyes and suggested something with entirely too much chocolate, but it was pretty good, and that’s saying something considering I was the one who ate it. I’m usually not a huge fan of ice cream, but whatever you gave me was decent enough. I can’t remember what it was called, but I’m sure it’ll just give me another excuse to start up a conversation with you the next time I come in. It’ll probably be soon, since Max was already talking about going back to the mall when I dropped her and her friend off at the Chief’s house for a sleepover. I guess I don’t really mind wasting my gas carting them around if it means I get to see you again. I just hope that you and that girl aren’t an item by the next time I see you. 

Love, Billy

Steve found himself starting to get teary-eyed again as he finished the last letter, remembering that day he saw Billy in the mall. He’d gotten so upset when he started flirting with Robin, and he’d wanted to smack him when he made that crack about ‘smooth, sweet and rich’. Now he just felt guilty about everything. If ever there was a time he wished he had access to a time machine, it would’ve been now, because maybe he could go back and change things, fix one little thing and make everything better, make it so that Billy didn’t die and they could start all over. Instead, all he could do was keep reading and try to keep himself together as he did.

June 29th / June 30th, 1985

Dear Steve,

I wrecked my car tonight. It was out near the old steel mill, something ran in front of my car and I swerved to avoid it, and I completely ruined her, my baby. I don’t want to tell you where I was going. I shouldn’t have been going there, I shouldn’t have been out there that late at night. I just got so lonely, y’know? And it was nice to feel wanted, even if I knew from the start that nothing good would come from it and that it was wrong on so many levels. But I’ve been pent up and going stir crazy since I last saw you, and I just needed something to get me through until I could. 

Damn, I really built up the suspense there, huh? I guess now I have to tell you. I was going to a motel just a little bit out of town. I was gonna meet Mrs. Wheeler there. She and a few of the other moms that hang out at the pool every day like to flirt with me and sometimes I play into it, because what else is there to do? And it’s not like they’d stop if I asked them to, so sometimes I just decide it’s not worth the battle. I don’t get paid enough to deal with them anyway, so sometimes I just say whatever I can think of to get them to leave me alone. So maybe it was a bad idea for me to suggest it, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. 

But anyway, I was gonna meet Mrs. Wheeler out at a motel, but then that thing ran in front of my car and I wrecked it. I don’t think the thing was hurt, but I was totally freaked out. It was dark and I was alone on this desolate little road and nobody knew where I was at or where I was going and I hit my head and my car wouldn’t start again, so I didn’t know what to do. And I think I hit that thing anyway, because when I got out to look at the damage, there was this weird goo on my car, like animal guts or something, and that just freaked me out even more. But what really got me was that then, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, so whatever I hit, I guess I didn’t kill it, and I don’t know what kind of animals are supposed to be out in those woods, but this thing fucking growled at me, this weird high-pitched screechy kind of growl, and I wanted to get out of there so bad, but I couldn’t. And then I tried to be rational about it, hoping it was a person instead and not some kind of animal and that maybe they could help me, so I asked if anyone was there, but then something grabbed me.

Steve, I don’t know what the fuck it was. All I know is that it grabbed my ankle and was strong enough to pull me backwards and it was fast. Like, faster than any wild animal should have been, especially while dragging me along with it. It pulled me into the abandoned warehouse and tried to drag me down a flight of stairs, but I grabbed the handrails and tried to get away. It gets kinda blurry at this point, but I think I did, and I ran as fast as I could out of that building, and I didn’t even think, I just got back in my car and somehow it was working and I sped away and just drove until I found a phone booth. I called the cops, but I had no idea what the hell had just happened to me, and it was coming back in bits and pieces and I just couldn’t speak. And when I opened my eyes again to try and talk, everything was different. I mean, it was the same, but different. It was freezing, like it was winter instead of summer, and there was this weird dust floating around like snowflakes, and I was so confused that I hung up the phone and went outside. And my car was still there, it was still Hawkins, but somehow, it felt like the fog that hadn’t been there before was staring at me. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but in my head I could hear it laughing at me, like I was a sideshow attraction or something, and it made me feel anxious. And I started screaming at it, like that would do anything, because I had no idea what else to do, and then the sky lit up red from this weird lightning and I had no idea what was happening, just that it wasn’t good, and I was right.

This is the worst part, though. I saw someone walking towards me, and at first I was relieved, because I thought they were coming to help me, but then they got close enough for me to see them through the darkness, and it was me. It was me, but it wasn’t. It looked like me and walked like me, but it’s voice was different, and I know for a fact it wasn’t me, because I was right fucking there and it was speaking to me. I had asked it what it wanted while I was just shouting into the dark, and that thing, it answered me. It said in this dark, deep voice that it wanted to build, that it wanted me to build, and I had no idea what that meant, so I asked it what it wanted me to build, and it just said ‘what you see’. And I said I didn’t understand what that meant, and it didn’t say anything else, it just turned around and walked off. 

And then, the next thing I knew, I was back in my car, and I was on my way home. The crack in the windshield was still there, and it was still dented up, so I knew the accident happened, but now I don’t know what to think. I know I hit my head, so it must’ve just been a really intense dream, but it just felt so real. I could feel everything that happened, and I don’t know why I would dream first and black out second. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know if it’s over or not, but I really hope it is. And this is gonna sound crazy, but on the off chance that whatever happened to me tonight actually was real and it did happen, I hope I die before I see the rest of it pan out. If that other me was real, I don’t want to know what the hell it can do to me or anyone that I care about. 

But I don’t know what’s real anymore. Maybe I’m not even writing this, maybe I’m still passed out in my car on the side of the road somewhere, still dreaming away. Or maybe I died tonight and this is the purgatory/Hell I was sent to. Either way, I hope that after I finish this letter and go to bed, I wake up for real tomorrow and everything is back to normal, or at least I get some answers on whether or not I’m going to spend eternity in that Hellscape I dreamed up.

Love, Billy

This had been the hardest letter of all of them to get through. There were so many things that just made Steve’s stomach turn, and he wasn’t sure which was the worst. For one, Billy must’ve been terrified. To be in a car crash and then to also be faced with what he assumed was the Mind Flayer and then end up facing himself after ending up in the Upside Down? Steve had faced demogorgons, demodogs and even torture from Russian soldiers, but all that seemed like nothing compared to what Billy went through. Not only that, but he hadn’t even known if it was real or not. That would be terrifying in and of itself. And to think that all of this happened because he was going to meet Mrs. Wheeler at some motel. 

Steve had never been very close with Nancy’s mom, but after spending so much time at her house, he liked to think he had a certain knowledge of the way she was. And to now find out that she was planning on having an affair with someone his and Nancy’s age… It made him feel disgusting on so many levels. It would be like if he had a thing for Holly, it was just gross. And Billy had to deal with that on a daily basis, and while he was working, too. And sure, maybe Billy wasn’t exactly innocent in all of this, either, but he was barely an adult, and he shouldn’t have had the opportunity in the first place. The only good thing about Billy getting into that accident was that he never had the chance to meet Mrs. Wheeler. The problem was that he met something much more dangerous.

That point was reiterated as Steve picked up the next letter, before he even started reading. The paper was a little crinkled in some places, like drops of water had hit it, and the pen was smudged in a few spots. It made a pit form in Steve’s stomach as he realized Billy must’ve been crying as he wrote it, and a lump started growing in his throat as he started to read.

July 2nd, 1985

Dear Steve,

I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m scared. Ever since the accident, things haven’t been right, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but I know it’s not good. And I know that it involves you, and Max, and Elle, and probably all of their little friends and your girlfriend, too, and probably a lot of other people. 

See, I’m writing this in a moment of lucidity, because lately everything’s been going black and when I wake up, I’m in a whole new place and I don’t know how I got there, and I only have so long before it all goes black again. I never know how long I have, but hopefully I can finish this before I run out of time. If not, I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to finish, because these blackouts are becoming more and more frequent and I think soon they’re gonna take over and I’m not gonna wake back up again. 

I don’t know what this thing is, though. I just know it’s what got me the night I crashed. It hates when it’s warm, and the sun is basically its enemy. I think that’s why that place where I saw myself was so cold. And speaking of seeing myself, I think that, whatever it was, that other me, it takes over when I black out, which is how I go from place to place without knowing it. It’s like a parasite, I guess, it takes you over little by little until there’s nothing left of you. I don’t want that to happen to me, but who could I tell that would A, believe me and B, help me get rid of it? I don’t think anyone would. It’s like the plague, everyone would find out I’m infected and run away screaming, and I’d be left to die all alone. I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want to die period, but it’d be even worse if I was alone when I kicked it.

Anyway, I don’t have much time, so I wanna say some things before I can’t anymore. One, if you ever find these letters, please don’t hate me for the things I say in them. I didn’t mean for it to go this far when I wrote that first one, but after I did, it just became like a journal, I could tell you anything and you’d listen and you’d comfort me just by hearing me. That’s cheesy as hell, but it’s true. I still kinda hope you never find them, but if you do, don’t hate me for them.

Two, if you are reading this, that means you found the letters, and if that’s the case, then I need you to do something for me. I need you to help Max through this. Make sure she’s okay, make sure she stays safe, and make sure as hell that she learns to drive better than the way I did. She better never crash because she was driving recklessly like I did, and if she does, I will personally kick your ass when I see you in the afterlife. And if this thing that’s in me ever goes after her, you better make sure it suffers as it dies, do you understand me? And I know that’s already a lot to ask, but I just need one more thing. As much as we got on each other’s nerves, Max and I needed each other. So if I die, please do what you can to be a big brother for her. Pester her a little bit, pretend you hate it when she demands rides all over town, and above all, be there for her when she needs you, because I know she will. Y’know, now that I think about it, I think I understand your relationship with the Henderson kid now. You’re already his big brother, so just be the same for Max, okay?

Three, make sure the rest of their little gang knows I’m sorry for the things I did to scare them, especially Lucas. I know it sounds like a cop-out, but I really was just trying to protect them. They’re good kids, but I knew they wouldn’t leave Max alone, and if my dad found out she was hanging out with a bunch of boys, it wouldn’t have ended well, for any of us. And as for Elle, I know that whatever this thing is inside me, it has something to do with her. I keep seeing her in my head, and I just hope that she knows that whatever happens, it’s nothing personal. I actually kinda liked her, as far as Max’s friends go, she was the nicest, and she always said thank you whenever I drove them somewhere. She’s a good kid, they all are.

And lastly, whatever happens, don’t feel guilty about it. You’re a great guy, Steve, and I know you think it’s always up to you to be the hero, but if I die, don’t feel bad, because there’s nothing you could’ve done. And even if there was something you could do, don’t feel bad, because even if I die, if you can help save Max and the rest of the kids and your girlfriend and maybe even a few other people, you’ve done more than enough. Don’t worry about me, okay? If this thing can be beaten, I’m gonna beat it, and if I come to after it’s all said and done and you’re mopey because you didn’t get to save me and be the hero, I’m gonna let it get back in me and finish the job.

Wow, actually, scratch that, I didn’t realize how morbid that was until I wrote it down, but the message is the same. If there’s even a chance I can get through this, I will, and that’s that, okay? I’m gonna see your face at the end of this, mopey or not, and when I do, maybe I’ll give you these letters. If I can face whatever this thing is in me, I can face you with a few sheets of paper, right? And if I don’t make it through and you find these letters anyway, know I did everything I could. 

Oh, and one more thing. If I don’t make it, I want you to take my bomber jacket. Y’know, the one I was wearing on that night back in November. You don’t have to wear it, you don’t even have to look at it, just keep it for me, okay? I love that jacket, it was my mom’s, and she gave it to me before she left because I always said how much I liked it. I know that when I’m gone, my dad’s not gonna want to deal with my stuff, so he’ll probably donate most of it and pitch the rest, but I want you to have the jacket. It means too much to me for it to end up at the bottom of a landfill or being sold for two bucks at a thrift store, so if you’d keep it, it would mean a lot to me. And if you want to wear it, please do. It’s kinda corny, but it’d be like giving you my letterman jacket like the guys would do with their girls in the movies. That might make it weird for you to think of it like that, but like I said, you don’t have to wear it. Just keep it for me so I know it’s in good hands.

Anyway, I’m gonna try to wrap this up now so I make sure I finish in time. I’m doing my best to be positive here, but I gotta tell you, every minute that passes as I’m writing this, the more scared I get. I don’t think there’s gonna be a way out of this for me. I just hope I don’t take too many people down with me. I’m sorry if I do. And I’m sorry in general. I wish I wasn’t such a coward and would’ve been able to put aside my pride to make things right with you. I wish we could’ve been friends. I wish I could’ve given you these letters and seen your face as you read them. I wish I would’ve known if you’d hate me for having a crush on you or if you would’ve been nice about it and let me down gently. I wish I would’ve known what your favorite Cheech and Chong movie was, and if you liked pineapple on pizza. I wish I’d have been able to learn your middle name because I asked you, not because I hid under the bleachers on graduation day and waited to hear it. I wish I could stop saying “I wish” and just get to the point. I wish I had all the time in the world to keep coming up with things to say “I wish” about. But I don’t, and I need to cut myself off before I keep saying it and I never say what I really want to say. 

I really care about you, Steve, maybe I even love you. I don’t think I’ll ever know, because I never got the chance to try, and it’s my own fault for fucking things up with you early on. But if it is love that I’ve been feeling all these months, I’m sorry that this is the way you had to find out. I’m really gonna miss you, Steve. And maybe it’s selfish, but I hope you’ll miss me a little bit, too.

All my love (I think), Billy

Steve finished the last letter, and as soon as he did, he scrambled out of bed and down the stairs, heading for the phone in the kitchen. It was a little after two in the morning and he was a mess, tears were streaming down his face and it was going to be hard to talk through the sobs, but he needed to talk to Robin. He punched in her number and tried to calm himself down a little, but it was no use, he only became more hysterical the longer it took for someone to answer. Finally, just before the answering machine would’ve picked up instead, her mom answered, sounding groggy and annoyed as she asked who was calling.

“It’s S-Steve. I’m so sorry, Mrs. B-Buckley, but I need t-to talk to Robin,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he continued to try and calm down.

“Steve, oh my goodness, is everything alright? Did something happen, are you okay?” Mrs. Buckley asked, her annoyance melting away into concern.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “I’m really sorry, ma’am, I just really need to talk to her, please.”

“Okay, honey, just hold on a second and I’ll go wake her up. We’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve said, swallowing as he listened to Mrs. Buckley setting the receiver down and walking away to wake Robin up. A few seconds later and he heard someone picking it back up, followed by a few steps and then the sound of a door closing before Robin finally yawned at him through the phone.

“Steve, it’s two a.m., what-”

“They were letters,” he interrupted, sniffling a little, “In that envelope, they were love letters.”

“Holy shit,” Robin said, both curious and astounded. 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, leaning his back against the wall and then sliding down to sit against it.

“What did they say?” Robin asked.

“Everything,” Steve said, shivering out a sigh, “It started with him saying that he wanted to understand me more, and then the next few said that he was sorry for the thing last November and he told me about some of the things he went through at home and how his mom left when he was ten, and then he said he liked me but we weren’t even friends so he wasn’t gonna tell me in person but he cared about me and then in the next one he told me why he was always so mean to the kids and after that, he told me all about how his dad would treat him like shit and-”

“Whoa, whoa, Steve, I’m starting to lose you, take a breath, okay?” Robin said, breathing with him through the phone. “Now, I was with you for the most part, so keep going, just try and slow down a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve said, taking one more deep breath. “He told me that on his birthday his dad beat him up because Susan got him a cake, and that it happened all the time for stupid reasons. And in the next letter, he had had a good day, so he told me all about himself. He liked black and white movies, Robin. He was gonna be a mechanic. He hated mushrooms and he loved Van Halen and he liked to read and Billy wasn’t his real name and he had a dream about me and jellyfish and I never even thought to learn any of this about him when he was still here and now I feel like a fucking jackass because I should’ve given him a chance while I could but I didn’t and now it’s too late!”

Steve had started crying harder again as he explained, and Robin just let him. She wished she could crawl through the phone and hug him, but she couldn’t, so she just let him get it out. He cried through the phone at her for a few minutes, and she kept telling him it would be okay, until finally, he’d cried himself out enough to keep talking. 

“He didn’t like ice cream, but he liked the chocolate cheesecake explosion I gave him when he came into Scoops that one time,” he said, swallowing thickly. “And then the last two letters was when he told me about how he got possessed by the Mind Flayer. He was in an accident and it got him, but he didn’t know what was happening because we never brought him into the loop about all that stuff.”

“Steve, you know we couldn’t. I didn’t know about it either, and you only told me when I got involved, otherwise you’d have broken your NDA. And Max couldn’t have told him, either, or else she’d have gotten in trouble, too. It’s not your fault,” Robin tried, but Steve only chuckled dryly through the phone.

“That’s what he said, too. He said it’s not my fault, but that’s bullshit. I’m bullshit. I should’ve told him.”

“Steve, you are not bullshit, you’re the farthest thing from bullshit. And when would you have told him, huh? When you hated him and didn’t want him within ten feet of you? You said yourself, you weren’t friends, and who knows if he would’ve believed you, anyway. I didn’t at first, I doubt he would, either. There’s nothing that you could’ve done.”

“Yes there is, I just didn’t do it and now he’s dead and it’s all my fault!” Steve yelled, slamming his fist down on the floor. “It’s all my fault, Robin.”

“It’s not, Steve. Billy made the choice to drive the way he did. He made the choice to be on that particular road at that particular time. And he also made the choice to save El and the rest of us by standing up to that thing. He was a fighter, if there was anything he could’ve done to get out of there with us, he would’ve, but he must’ve figured it was either him or us, and he chose to save us. There was nothing any of us could’ve done.”

“I could’ve forgiven him.”

“He never asked if you would forgive him.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserved what happened.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. But it is what it is, and all we can do now is make sure we don’t take what he did for granted, right?”

“I guess so,” Steve sniffed, wiping away some fresh tears as he leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know it, but Robin was sitting against her door in exactly the same position as she stayed on the line, just breathing with her best friend.

 “Hey, by the way,” he said after a few minutes, “Do you remember what we did with Billy’s bomber jacket?”

“I think we took it to Goodwill with the rest of his clothes, why?”

“In the last letter, he said he wanted me to have it if he died because it was his mom’s and he didn’t want it to end up in a thrift store for someone else to buy.”

“Then tomorrow, when they open, you and I can go and get it back, okay? For right now, I think we both just need to get some sleep, and then when we go tomorrow to get it, you can tell me more about these letters, does that sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. See you tomorrow, Robin,” Steve said, waiting until he heard a click followed shortly by the dial tone. He grunted as he heaved himself up after that, putting his phone back on the cradle and then trudging back up to his room. He was exhausted, but he was almost afraid to fall asleep, not knowing what might enter his head if he started to dream after all this. Still, he cleaned up the letters off of his bed, folded them gently back up and put them back in the envelope. He put the envelope in his nightstand drawer and sighed as he closed it, wiping his eyes one last time as he settled in bed, falling asleep quicker than he would’ve liked.

He then found himself in an aquarium, surrounded by jellyfish on all sides. He was a little cold as he looked at the tanks, and he could feel himself shiver as he watched the creatures floating around him, but then he heard someone coming up behind him, and when he turned to look, there was Billy. He didn’t say anything, just took off his jacket, the bomber, and held it up for Steve to put on. He did, and then the two of them just stood there, watching the fish. Every few seconds though, Steve would glance over, searching for something to say.

“Okay, okay, I can take a hint,” Billy finally said, smiling and turning to face Steve before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly as he added, “It’s okay, Steve. It’s all okay, I promise.”

It felt like only a second had passed when Steve woke up the next morning, in his bedroom, the covers twisted around him and his clock reading 11 a.m.. He called Robin and they made their plans, agreeing to meet in a half hour so that they could get to Goodwill with plenty of time before it opened. It was a Sunday, so they didn’t open until noon, and Steve was glad about that. If it had been any other day, Robin would’ve called early in the morning so that they could get there when it usually opened, and he might not have been able to see his dream play out, and that would’ve killed him. 

The dream didn’t fix everything, and Steve knew that more than likely, it was just his subconscious picking something to try and help him rationalize everything that happened. But he liked to think that maybe, just maybe, it was no accident that he had that dream. Maybe Billy really was there in his head, trying to send him a message. And if that was the case, he was going to take it and run with it, all the way to the Goodwill and back again, bomber jacket in hand.

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! Catwin motorcycle au part 9.

still sfw, for now *cackles* x

Around 9:30pm, Edwin knows it's a mistake, to be drinking as much as he is. But the wine is good, a proper vintage, the kind one reserves for special occasions, the armchair is warm and comfortable, and also, the company. Thomas is making him laugh. He's telling some hilarious story, incredibly hard to believe yet endearingly earnest, with lots of arm waving and smothered giggles, as he struggles to recount the time his dorm mate’s cats took off with his clothes, after sneaking into the bathroom while he was showering. 

"And I'm not about to go chasing after them wearing nothing but a smile," Thomas shrugs wildly. "He had his girlfriend over, in the common room, and it was kind of going good for him this time, so I couldn’t exactly add a naked scruff chasing two cats down the hallway to that? So, they dash away, laughing their little heads off if they could, and I have to tiptoe slowly back across the hall to my bedroom, wearing my dirty old socks, clinging to my last shred of dignity." 

"Oh gods." Edwin collapses into a fit of giggles, turning red, as he pictures it in his head.   

"Babe," Thomas sips his wine, leans forward, his face dead serious, "when I tell you that it was the worst timing for his girl to get up off the couch and- " 

"Oh gods!" Edwin waves his hands in front of him, he really doesn't want to hear about that part. He collapses back into his chair, laughing so hard that he snorts through his nose, the sound joined and mixing with Thomas’ own delighted giggles.  

The night continues. It must be after 11 by now.   

Edwin is opening up a bit about London, what it was like to live there. Thomas has never been, though he tells him he hopes to one day visit. Edwin's rambling about the hidden treasures of London, how to avoid the tourist traps, what he’d show and recommend to Thomas, when the latter suddenly bursts out laughing, interrupts him with a heavy hand on his arm. "Ghostie, Edwin, have to stop you there," he smiles, lopsided, completely losing his composure, almost spilling the last of his wine, "you've been speaking the most unintelligible British English for five minutes, and I can't follow a single word!"  

Edwin buries his face in his hands, by the time he's done laughing there are tears running down his face. 

In the corner of his blurred vision, he sees Thomas get up, fetch another bottle of wine.  

The incessant, rhythmic buzzing by his face is quite possibly the most obnoxious noise Edwin has ever encountered in his life. He wants to kill it. Throw it across the room, stomp it out of existence. He manages to gather enough of his wits to simply smack the offending device with one hand, knock it away. He hears a clatter, and then… silence.   

Even the absence of sound seems to hurt. Oh god. My head.   

It feels like his brain has been hollowed out during the night, then shoddily put back together, with duct tape and rocks. As soon as Edwin's fully awake, he can feel the room spinning. Closing his eyes does nothing to alleviate the dizziness, quick on its heels is a fiery hot wave of nausea.   

Blearily opening one eye, trying to focus on his surroundings, he ticks off a mental checklist. It's morning, he's in his bed. In his own house. His shoes are on the floor near the bed. His belt is by his shoes. His jacket hangs on the closet door, his watch is on the nightstand. He's wearing the pants and shirt he wore to the picnic yesterday, and the covers have been kicked off the bed, onto the floor.  Also, he feels like he's been run over by a motorcycle.   

Edwin thinks back on the previous night, realizes with a fair amount of horror, he actually drank enough to black out. There's a rather significant portion of the night that he just can't remember.  Most conspicuously missing, is how exactly he got upstairs, into bed. And where is Thomas? 

Sitting up is a challenge, he tackles it slowly, bit by bit. Once upright, his body protests violently at being disturbed, rushing him to the bathroom. What comes up is mostly liquid. On top of drinking enough to temporarily drown his brain, he recalls that he didn't eat much the previous day either. Not that he laments any real loss at missing out on the church picnic. He does berate himself, being so careless with his drinking, as he fills the sink with cold water, unceremoniously dunks his whole head in it. He must look ridiculous, but it feels so good. It takes away the dull ache of nausea, anyway.   

Staring at himself in the mirror, Edwin sends a base thanks to anyone willing to listen that at least it’s Sunday, and he’s not supposed to be at work already. He’d seriously consider calling out sick, something he’s never done in all the years he’s worked at the school. Drying himself off with a towel, Edwin tries to compose himself. While not an official school day, he, as a teacher, still has papers left to grade, tests to prepare. He dresses slowly, makes his way downstairs. The nausea has mostly subsided, but his head is still pounding, and he feels overwhelmingly dehydrated. If there are any bottles of wine left in his pantry, Edwin resolves to pour them down the sink.  

When he enters the kitchen, he finds Thomas, drinking pitch black coffee, with a stone serious expression. He has an ice pack resting on his head as he reads the paper, blinking as the words obviously don’t register, Edwin figures he looks a fair bit like Edwin feels. When he sees his host entering the room, Thomas fumbles for words a bit, but collects himself, manages a wry grin.  "Overdid it a bit, didn't we?" 

Edwin nods, sits across from him, feeling like he's aged 50 years in one night. "I need water. I need some sort of caffeine. And then I have work to do." 

Thomas immediately takes on the task, expertly throwing two pieces of bread into the toaster, pouring an extra cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. He puts it in front of Edwin, returns to the kitchen counter for the now toasted bread and a glass of cold water.   

Edwin takes a sip of the water first, it's so cold he can feel it traveling all the way down his throat, into his stomach. "Thank you, my friend." He sighs in relief, braving a few nibbles of the dry toast, starting in on the coffee. "Forgive me, there is a lot from last night I don't remember." 

"Oh yeah?" Thomas hums, gets up to refill his own mug with more coffee. 

"I haven't lost time like that in ages, not since I was much younger. I honestly can't recall how the night ended, or getting in my bed at all." 

"No worries, I remember all of that. I carried you up the stairs, but you made a valid effort of your own, in your defence. S'a good thing we stayed home instead of going to a bar though, don’t think either of our legs, or any limbs really, would’ve been steady enough for a ride home. That was some good vintage."  

Edwin frowns, rests his head on his arm. "Don't drive drunk ever," he scolds weakly, "I'd be very upset if you were killed in some horrible accident." 

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I would’ve gotten us a taxi, babe." Thomas chuckles, refreshing Edwin's cup.   

"Did… Did you put me to bed?" Edwin murmurs into his arm, too embarrassed to make eye-contact.  He almost keeps the question to himself, but the curiosity is killing him.  And his history as an affectionate drunk, poses the ever-more embarrassing unspoken question; what exactly had he said last night, if anything? 

Immediately, Edwin can tell that Thomas is watching his words. "Yeah. You were three sheets to the wind, so after I walked you upstairs, I just made sure to put you on your side." He gives a good-natured smile, choosing to lean against at the table, inhaling the scent of the coffee.   

"Not too much trouble, I hope? It's been a long time since I've had that much to drink in one sitting." 

"Nah, Edwin. You were fine."  He says it with a thread of finality, Edwin can't help but feel that it's not the whole story. But he doesn't have the energy, the brain cells, the confidence to figure it out right now. He gulps down the water, munches the toast, sips the last of the coffee. He feels like something resembling a human again, afterwards, he feels like maybe it's possible to finish out the day without further ailments. He shoots a thankful smile at Thomas. 

"Do you have any plans today?"   

"Was thinking of a walk. Get a bit more of a sense of the neighbourhood? It's a nice day, I could use the exercise." Thomas stretches his arms to the ceiling as he talks, and perhaps Edwin’s head isn’t that fully clear yet, because he permits himself a peek at the muscled torso displayed as a result, without a shred of guilt. Maybe it’s the same kind of guilt-less, freeing kind of confidence, that drives Edwin forward. 

"That sounds like a good idea, actually," Edwin retrieves his coat from the front hall closet, "I'll join you, come on. Let’s steady our legs." 

The weather is quite nice, the neighbourhood a calm picturesque backdrop. Edwin ponders it might actually be enjoyable, if they didn’t walk side by side, swinging wildly from awkward, stilted small talk, to complete silence. It feels like torture. Edwin is sure that he somehow utterly embarrassed himself last night, and Thomas is too kind, or worse, too mortified to bring it up. If only he could remember, but it's not coming back to him. There are several times where Edwin finds himself leaning or straight up bumping into Thomas, as his feet struggle to task on auto-pilot, while Edwin’s mind is racing. 

On one such brush of their shoulders, Edwin tilts his head to apologize, when a flash, an image, comes unbidden to his mind; Thomas's face, in quite a close proximity to his own. That happened last night, as well. Thomas looked tired, but amused, and he's saying something. Edwin replays the image in his mind, again, again, like a broken record. The complete image is so close, so within his grasp, yet so far away, intangible.  Again and again, he pores over the memory, certain that it's from last night.  Thomas's face, close by, slightly above his own? That would only make sense if he was leaning over him, considering the man isn’t naturally taller than him. Thomas looking at him, then looking away.  Looking at him, then looking away. Saying something. Saying something with a wry grin, sympathetic eyes.   

This memory can't be from his imagination. It's from last night, and his damn brain won't give up the clues.   

He's interrupted by the present. "Edwin, are you okay?" He hums in reply, already knowing the other won’t be convinced. "Come on Ghostie, we’re going home.” A strong arm wraps around his waist, warm hand dipping lower, steadying pressure on his hip. “I think a nice nap on the couch might make you feel better."   

Edwin smiles. Thomas is a good, caring man. 

Make you feel better. 

Feel better. 

When you feel better. 

Maybe when you feel better- 

Listen, when you feel better- 

You're not yourself, but when you're feeling better- 

"Listen Ghostie, babe," a gentle, reassuring voice, "you're not yourself right now. But, maybe, when you're feeling better, you could ask me again?" 

Edwin feels his face go white, he’s grateful for the arm around him, as he suddenly feels dizzy.   

Oh. Oh no. Oh Hells. 

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

i keep thinking about ocelot takarazuka i dont really see the influence like he just looks like a middle age guy with masc features manner and fashion so what do you think the artist actually meant? there's nothing feminine about ocelot like how does the "is that a man or woman" thing play in here cause i don't see it. He's not like raiden or raikov. He's just a guy 🧍‍♂️so how does the all female theatre thing apply

Hello Anon! Full, immediate disclosure, this answer is messy and disjointed. I probably don't even answer the question your asking end of the day, but I'll try my best.

I believe this is the post you're wondering about?

As I said in this earlier post I'm not a Japanese speaker, so I have to go on interpretation, and what has been offered by the translations available. I can't help but think there is going to be some sort of nuance missing as a result, but I'll do my best.

To start, I think you and I might have a slightly different view on masculine and feminine-to me the two concepts are pretty interchangeable, but I do understand where you're (probably, I don't know you personally after all) are coming from and that, no, Ocelot doesn't have many traditional 'feminine' characteristics.

You'll note that in the original post, Shinkawa refers to getting inspiration from the idea of 'women in their 40's (the age Ocelot almost is in MGSV)' and 'long, flashing eyelashes'. (My interpretation here is that by this, he means in the way long eyelashes that are considered sexy have an eye-catching flow to them. Sort of like how we can say 'fluttering lashes'. Intended to draw a person's gaze in, and command their presence).

Doing some cursory research tells me that the Takarazuka Revue (because Takarazuka is also a city in Hyōgo Prefecture, Japan.) is an all-female musical troupe located within that same city. Started in 1913, by Ichizō Kobayashi.

(I also got distracted by this version that is a performance of Casino Royale, so there's that)

Anyway, ahem.

"Kobayashi believed that it was the ideal spot to open an attraction of some kind that would boost train ticket sales and draw more business to Takarazuka. Since Western song and dance shows were becoming more popular and Kobayashi considered the kabuki theater to be old and elitist."

Throughout the article, there is also this;

"Takarazuka has had a profound influence on the history of anime and manga, especially shōjo manga.[27][28] Osamu Tezuka, a highly influential manga creator, grew up in the town of Takarazuka. His mother knew many of the Takarazuka actresses, and as a child he knew them and watched many of their performances"

I can assume that the performances have a lot of influence on media, and it's not uncommon for MGS to take inspiration. There could be an entire article on the things MGS takes inspiration from, even outside the most obvious like Escape from New York, character model bases, etc.

Cycling back to the original point, (there is also a video that exact post comes from, but I don't have the link on hand, on YouTube *no translations). I think that it's entirely possible Shinkawa took 'loose' inspiration, or a little more. I can see why and how he might've based Ocelot's look on the idea. (Loose shirt, tight pants, scarf open neck). But there is also the element of which Takarazuka is a performance, more than anything.

It's acting. Playing. Something Ocelot does all the time. Half of his time on screen, he's putting on some kind of performance. While this is something he does the least in MGSV, that never fully changes 100%. (And after all, he's also hypnotized for most of the plot). So there's a counter argument to be had that this is one of his greatest performances pre-MGS4. But that's a different post.

Ocelot presents/is masculine. But, he has longer eyelashes, his clothes are a little more 'free' than the standard military garb when he's allowed to choose his own outfit. (Again this is specifically MGSV Ocelot, though there's something to be said about his chosen attire being such a sharp 3 piece later on).

At the end of the day, maybe a way you can look at it is to say that, Shinkawa looked to Takarazuka when designing MGSV Ocelot to give him a sort of 'flow' to his looks. He was attracted to the idea of taking elements from Takarazuka, because Ocelot is a performer, and he sees some possibility for feminine additions in his looks *or* might've thought it more 'fitting' than Kabuki.

But again, I don't know if we see fully masculine and feminine the same way, (and maybe Shinkawa personally associates long eyelashes with sexy women; or women made up to look like men but with longer lashes) I can't know for sure myself. I think you would need a native or very good Japanese speaker to interpret it fully.

If I was to offer you a personal opinion-I can see it. I can see where there's a draw that one might have with the look, and where Shinkawa might've gotten said inspiration. But I am not entirely certain how to put that into words either? My perspective isn't going to be 1-to-1 of yours either.

Maybe someone else can interpret all this better than me, I definitely feel as if I've not done this justice at all. Because at the end of the day, I don't see a hard divide in masculine and feminine in Ocelot, but I think that you, Anon, see him as 100% masculine. But again, I can't speak for you and I am not sure.

[ntls-24722]

i caved. i made shit in the lead sketchbook. according to the lead warnings it's probably alright if i touch it as long as i don't start chewing on it or something (gonna have to restrain from eating sketchbook paper). I'm just gonna start washing my hands alot

if i make weird shit that's weird even for my taste, i'm just gonna blame it on lead poisoning

I mentioned zebramen have bubbles to depict love instead of hearts, and mentioned that there was a creature that existed with tandem with this: here it is! bubble worms, these photosynthetic "tube worm" things that took to the land and brought with them a fascinating way to do broadcast spawn.

They make a kajillion bubbles whose liquid is essentially their "semen" for both their eggs and sperm, and just send those suckers out into the air. If bubbles meet up in the air, perfect, but if not, they'll probably meet up on the ground once they pop, or if the rain comes and washes everything together. Bubble worms are kind of like reeds where they can be found on the sides of bodies of water and they might even have a mobile, carnivorous larval stage where they swim/crawl around and settle in a good spot?

Either way, their bubbles have kind of become a symbol of love and romance with Zebramen the same way flowers are for us. I don't know why this idea came to me, there's not really any real reason for it, but I'd like to say it's because of the inherent giddiness of being around bubbles lmao.

There's a god of love in zebraman mythology that's pretty much "zebraman cupid" with the exact same premise as him, too. Instead of arrows, it's bubbles he makes from his mouth, and if one gets on you, or you pop it, you'll fall in love. His bubbles specifically are a deep blue, and there's a bubble worm that makes deep blue bubbles, too, and it's believed that worm has the same effect. Some modern reinterpretations say that it only has an effect on you when you're already in love, and if you pop it, it'll give you the courage to confess, and... cmon that's adorable :>

There's also a subset of zebramen "lovemakers" who, among other things, have a flask of soapy liquid that they'll blow on a couple, often to save their marriage. Does it work? Don't even worry about that, that'll be [70 units of zebraman currency] :)

music men from a place in my head. i can't tell you about this au but enjoy music man with a gun

There's also this old OC of mine: Redwood. I've never posted about him, but I made him for the JSAB fandom 4 years ago and he's really been on the mind recently, after I reworked him.

He's a fusion. He's a fusion gone evil.

Fusions in his world don't work like SU fusions where two people work together to inhabit the same body - fusions work by two people making up a completely independent individual. Their body parts coalesce and they become a whole new thing like some fear and hunger shit. They can unfuse, and fusions are much more different than having a kid (fully grown, still retaining both minds to some degree, if the parts are a couple, then the fusion is romantically interested in their parts), but they have their own personality, and unfusing is the decision of the fusion, not the individuals.

I would like to note that fusions are also not a reflection of the individuals: Redwood isn't evil because his parts - Jon and Anthony - are an abusive couple or that they're individually evil, it's actually quite the opposite. If they were, then Redwood would probably just be depressed and super weak and not all mentally there, super unstable and always unfusing. The issue is that they're too good for eachother.

They're literally so good to eachother that their fusion is... ultra-stable. It's actually hard for Redwood to conciously unfuse. Which Redwood has taken as a sign to stay as himself... among other things. Fusions can retain the minds of their parts, but fusions don't live in the minds of their parts - they outright disappear from existance once they unfuse. Redwood has the existential crisis of depending on his parts to secure his existance and has decided to go about it very maliciously.

Anthony is burning alive, constantly! He has a void in his chest which essentially worked like a pocket dimension, and that void has been lit ablaze in some awful accident. He's burning all the time and can't put the fire out, he's actively dying and what's been keeping him alive is periodically fusing into Redwood, who can take the burn. So what Redwood's doing is just actively kill Anthony - If Anthony's dying even more than he already is, Redwood becomes more of a necessity to keep him alive, until Redwood needs to stay as himself all the time.

Redwood has made his motives really apparent to Jon and Anthony, and there's nothing they can even really do about it since they even accidentally fuse when given the chance. so they just have the possibility of their evil frankenstein creation just yoinking them out of existance looming over them at all times. it's gay frankenstein

bonus: redwood isn't red, he's actually extremely blue

finally: fritzes, the first thing i drew in here as i was grappling with the possibility of lead poisoning

[teecupangel]

Desmond miles as hopes older brother! Des as hopes brother! I don't have much due to my painkillers giving me a crash and burn boost, but I can help offer what little info I do think of.

It's very clear hope has had a lady's upbringing and education, Desmond alreadly had "big brother" vibes after his time near ezio's sister and little brother so he gets soft with the pretty menace that is now his sister. He's sadly not fully aware of how bad things would get in their adult lives under Achilles, but with his time as connor he knows things went horrible enough for Achilles to take things more seriously. So he's ready, but not truly ready

Now growing up before and after the death of their bio family then adoption by the german couple who raised them, he helps set hope up to be a better person once tragedy struck once more. Not just in skill, but her morals, right from wrong and her blind loyalty with plea's and warnings falling to deaf ears.

To most he's mildly serious yet calm and laid back, easiest assassin on the homestead to get along with. Most recruits who get to train with him come out sore and tired, but full of pride with a goofy smile. (I love when desmond gets to act like a big brother, he can't help it- shays his brother, liams a brother, the other's are questionable at best)

(It alsi really got to me in shay's game that hope of all people didn't listen, she seems so smart and clever! Hell she IS smart and clever)

Wanna make it more tragic?

How about when they lost their parents they were separated due to their parents’ actions, who had been kind people but may have gotten in with the wrong crowd or might have accumulated too much debt from the wrong people.

Desmond, being the older of the two, promised to find Hope and told her to wait for him. Hope is left with nothing else to do but believe in her brother and she’s taken away to an orphanage while Desmond is left to ‘pay the debt’.

Hope is adopted and her adoptive parents love her but she still remembered the warmth of her brother’s hand on the top of her head, could still remember the kind smile he always had even when Hope annoyed him.

So she believed him.

She believed him and kept on waiting for him.

Then her adoptive father was killed and she and her adoptive mother were thrown out of their own home.

It’s during the time she tried to steal for medicine to save her ailing adoptive mother that he finally found her.

It’s a bittersweet reunion as she had waited for this moment for so long but she had imagined their reunion to be a sweet one. Where he would appear on their doorsteps and would embrace her tightly…

Where her adoptive parents would welcome him to their home, her adoptive mother cooking for him and her adoptive father teaching him their family business…

Not in this dank alleyway with his hand gripping her arm tightly, the surprise clear in his eyes.

Like he didn’t expect to see her here.

Like this had all been a coincidence.

She had half a mind to push him and run away.

To ask why he had taken so long to find her…

Yet…

“Patricia?”

Just one word.

A name she had not heard for a long time.

Spoken in a much deeper voice than she had grown up hearing.

Spoken with such…

Hope.

Her body moved before she could stop herself.

His hands held her like they’ve always had.

His embrace was just as warm as she remembered…

.

Unorganized Notes:

With Desmond’s help, Hope’s adoptive mother didn’t die.

Desmond had been ‘paying’ their parents debt for years by singlehandedly destroying their group. It took some time as they were all scums who had enough money to pay for decent security and Desmond had no allies or informants of his own so he had to do all the information gathering on his own (aka: the Altaïr way)

During this time, Desmond had also amassed a… following as some of the people he took out had really had sidegigs.

So, yeah, while Hope had been growing up in a safe loving home, Desmond had been ‘unintentionally’ creating his own small gang.

Hope joins the gang, of course, and it’s actually less of a gang and more of a lite Brotherhood that focused more on information gathering and causing distractions for Desmond.

Desmond isn't Desmond's biological name but the name he went with while doing his 'sidegigs'. Only Hope and Desmond know each other's biological names and they only use it when they're alone.

Desmond actually didn’t want to train Hope to be an Assassin like him because he will always see her as his that little kid who would cry for her brother whenever she tripped. Then he realized how his feelings were the same as the ones Ezio had felt about Claudia and knew that he can’t stop her. All he can do is guide her and make sure she grew up to be strong enough.

Hope's first Assassination mission was to hunt down the men who used to be her adoptive father's business partners.

So when Achilles finally finds them, they’re pretty much Assassins by their own rights and he had heard rumors of them and the immense network they held in the colonies. That was what Achilles was after.

Desmond has no reason not to join Achilles. He only heard a bit from Ratonhnhaké:ton’s memories of what happened and Achilles had been cagey, after all, only saying that the Colonial Brotherhood fell into a Templar ‘trap’.

But… Desmond has no reason to see Achilles as a mentor as well so he acts more like an unofficial Assassin (which always left a bitter taste in his mouth), it’s a small price to pay to retain his freedom from the constraints of having to listen to Achilles’ orders.

Desmond usually just visits once in a while and every Assassin in the homestead are immediately swarming him, wanting to learn from him and ask for his advice. He’s friendly to everyone and acts like a big brother to them (especially as Achilles’ recruits are usually younger than Desmond).

Hope and Shay have a more rivalry-type relationship because Desmond told Hope that Shay had potential which Hope took as a declaration of war for her brother’s attention. Shay thinks Hope is just a very… ‘aggressive’ woman.

Liam thinks Shay is dumb for not realizing that Hope only acts like that to him. Everyone has heard of Hope, Desmond’s sister and first apprentice. Among their group, she’s one of the few to actually be on the same level as an Assassin and she’s as cunning and smart as one can get. She’s also usually nice and polite and her treatment of Shay makes Liam mistakes it as… Hope having feelings for Shay!

Desmond knows Hope is acting out because she has abandonment issues but, at the same time, her rivalry with Shay was helping the two of them grow so… he’s not going to do anything other than remind Hope that she’s his own and only sister and nothing will ever change that.

Desmond is close to Achilles’ apprentices and acts like a secondary mentor + older brother to them all. Since he’s older than them (physically and thanks to the Bleeding Effect + his reincarnation bs), he tends to treat them as young ‘kids’.

Up to you if Desmond’s presence have an effect and saves Achilles’ wife and son.

[not-poignant]

Techniques for writing a bad drug trip:

We're going to be using excerpts from one of my own chapters here from my story Eversion to discuss the kind of writing techniques that will help make a bad drug trip more believable. In context, the character Connor has nonconsensually been given a synthetic made-up highball of drugs that gives him a horrible time, and this does not accurately reflect what bad drug trips look like across all drugs, for example sometimes throwing up on ayahuasca is a feature, and not a bug. What I'll be focusing on instead are the actual narrative techniques that indicate an affected mind and body vs. specific technques for specific drugs.

Beginning Stages:

Firstly, pre-bad-trip, it's useful to depict your character beforehand as being fully - or as close to fully lucid as possible. Have them realising things, actively thinking, describing their surroundings, and doing things in a kind of logical way - show them doing something mundane even, like walking into a room, or a cafe. In this case, Connor walks into a cafe, describes the cafe, makes some mental notes and then has a lucid conversation.

Next, most of the time any drug gives you physical symptoms even before the bad trip part, so describe those. In this case:

Seconds later Connor’s heart began to race

The needle slid free and Connor hardly felt it.

He stumbled over nothing as he passed the group of cyclists, staring at them as his heart beat harder and harder, as sweat broke out over his forehead.

At this point in the story, another character takes over, the person who gives him the highball picks up the conversation because Connor is overwhelmed by the physical sensations and doesn't feel like talking. He stops thinking about his environment accurately and starts to notice things while dropping others. His thoughts are already being affected.

This is when you can start using techniques like time skipping, forgetfulness, memory loss, or alternatively focusing on one thing a lot and a lot of other things a little.

Connor nodded, thinking that he needed to get away, that he needed to go somewhere. He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t there. Where was his phone? His vision slanted, time slipped away from him. He was beneath a tree, throwing up while Gabriel petted his shoulder and waited beside him.

Here we have a strong time skip - Connor goes from looking for his phone, in the next paragraph he's throwing up by a tree. This progression of events has no logic, except for the bad drug trip. Which means we now know Connor is being really affected by what's happening. These two paragraphs also show forgetfulness - Connor needs to get away / needs to go somewhere, but can't remember where. He looks for his phone, but has forgotten Gabriel took it from him. You don't even need the 'time slipped away from him' description, vision slanting or blurring tends to indicate to readers in situations like this that someone is being quite seriously affected by what's happening to them.

Middle Stages:

Then, he was walking, but couldn’t think past the scattered, rushing noises in his ears, looking like black jags across his vision.

He landed hard on his knees and stared down bewildered at the grass. He looked around, vision turning to brightness, cars zooming by too fast and too large, the sky distorted, the clouds inverting. He raised a hand to his head, but another hand – warm and gentle – rested at his temple, thumb gently stroking. Connor leaned into it, whimpering.

We're doing a lot of time skipping now, alongside mental symptoms.

The writing technique itself is changing. In one sentence we cover a lot of choppy subjects - vision turning bright, cars too fast, sky distorting, clouds inverting. It gives a sense of too much information happening at the same time - Connor's senses are overwhelmed.

This kind of choppy information can be delivered in short complete sentences, but I liked one run-on sentence here because it gives that sense of 'and then this and this and this and this and this' which is sometimes how it feels to have too much information coming in at once.

It's also making use of the senses. We have vision and hearing and touch all in the same paragraph. We also have 'too fast' 'too large' - things are too much. Not only that, but describing things as distorted indicates strongly that Connor's already hallucinating and hasn't realised yet.

At this point in your bad drug trip, you should not be using your regular writing style. If your character isn't thinking like normal, you might want to consider also not writing 'like normal' for that character.

(This is the same for when a character is having a flashback, is overwhelmed, or is experiencing something intense for any reason).

He took great, shuddering breaths and then pressed shaking fingers to his stomach. The knot of pain in his thigh was manifesting there as well.

Now, for the bad drug trip to truly be bad, we also have the physicality of the experience. The body comes along for the ride and it often feels like it's dying during a bad drug trip.

Huge shuddering breaths and shaking hands can indicate an overloaded nervous system, also someone who might be going into shock, or who is hyperventilating, or who is literally experiencing respiratory distress. We don't have to know what it is - one or all of them could be true! A person on a bad drug trip, unless they're a medical professional or experienced with bad drug trips, will not know or be assessing what is happening to them as it happens.

He flinched back when he saw black inching out from beneath his knees on the grass, dimly knew it as a hallucination before that awareness vanished and he pushed himself back and away.

Boop a hallucination. Connor was already hallucinating, but now he realises too. You don't need to include this. I was writing a smart, analytical character, and he does know he's having a bad drug trip, so he's allowed little moments of realisation. Your character might know more, or they might know less.

Intense / Peak Stages:

He could feel the way his body pulsed at discordant rhythms, too fast, too slow, never in sync throughout his body. The tips of his fingers were throbbing. His feet felt like stones. He looked at Gabriel’s perfect beard and thought of tearing his face off. It would be brief, brutal, bloody, but then he could just lie down.

Writing emotional distortion here is that Connor feels like behaving violently, which - to this degree - isn't normal for him. The drug overdose is making him vengeful. We know it's part of the drug overdose because the first part of the paragraph focuses on all his physical symptoms. The drug trip might make your character too terrified to function, it might make them aroused (i.e. fuck or die sex pollen scenarios), it might make them giddy. Have some emotional distortion going on on some level. Even if it's extreme anhedonia or apathy in the face of potentially dying.

The hospital was clearly giving him too many sedatives. He didn’t know how to tell them that he had no tolerance, he couldn’t take the dosages that his father was pushing for.

Now we hit full flashback. Connor now believes he's being overdosed with sedatives in the hospital, and is no longer in the present at all. He's not even 'I remember' - he's just there. Flashbacks won't happen with every bad drug trip but they are common to any bad drug trip that is hallucinatory in nature.

Connor stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, and his hands rested on the floor. His heart was beating far too fast, fluttering in his chest. He felt hazy. Every now and then he had to clench his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles ached. A compulsion. He couldn’t stop himself from doing it. He’d feel himself shake, and then he’d stop, and he’d stare upwards. He was lying on the floor.

Connor stared ahead. The corner of his mouth felt wet. He was drooling. His fingers and toes kept twitching against his will.

What Connor is describing now is seizure activity.

Connor isn't consciously clenching his hands into fists, his body is doing that. He calls it a compulsion, but it's not. Feeling your body shake and then stop and then shake again is - in this instance for Connor - active seizure activity.

Not all seizures cause full unconsciousness of the entire brain, for example. Connor doesn't know what's happening to him, but we can tell from the physical symptoms here - heart fast and fluttering, feeling hazy, physical movements completely beyond his control - that he's now in a danger zone.

If you want the bad drug trip to reach 'a normal person would be in an ambulance by now' - this is a good place to be. Focus on strange sensations of the heart, the pulse, shaking, the sensation of overheating or being too cold. If you want, look up the symptoms of shock, or tachycardia.

Aftermath of bad drug trip:

In the aftermath of a bad drug trip, be aware that it can take some time for a person's thoughts to return to normal. Don't write an instant return to normalcy once a person is physically stabilised. Often they show mood shifts that are quite profound. Even a person coming down from MDMA often experiences depression or flatness after a great night out with zero negative memories.

Normal aftermaths/ongoing side effects from bad drug trips include apathy, depression, suicidal ideation, anhedonia, flatness, lethargy, exhaustion (literally, the body physically went through several marathons), pain, and foggy, disconnected thinking (both because the brain went through something traumatic and the drugs take a while to work through the system). GI (gastrointestional disturbances) are common, from 'not going to the bathroom at all' to 'diarrhea' etc. Sometimes these after-effects last days, sometimes they last weeks, sometimes they even last months.

-

So! In summary helpful techniques for bad drug trips can include:

Shorter, choppier sentences to indicate overwhelm

Physical symptoms being 'experienced' - character often doesn't know what's happening except in special circumstances

A progression of physical symptoms.

Focus on all of the senses

Hallucinations and/or flashbacks (one usually happens with the other)

Unusual emotional affect or emotional distortion

Time skips / non-linear time jumps

Inability to think properly

Focusing on some things too much and other things not at all

Realising there is a progression, that must include a heavy aftermath (unless you're trying to be special, or unless it's one of the few drugs that can make you feel unusually euphoric afterwards and then there's still usually a crash after that lmao)

Different drugs create different, known effects, however, people will have different 'bad drug trips' depending on their circumstances.

I'm a little bit afraid this post is going to crash so I'm going to post it now! And for that anon who asked me what kind of writing I used - this is it! :D

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

"lecturing" for the wip game! xo @hardly-an-escape

Certainly, my dear ❤️ I believe I've described the premise once before, but I'll give you a little recap anyway as well as a snippet! Perhaps this will somehow help this poor fic get out of WIP hell... I know how I want it to end, but I just can't figure out whether to throw some smut in the middle or just...skip it, uncharacteristically enough... A wise reader may at this point ask, "Why don't you just write the ending first then and decide later if you feel like calling it done or if you want to add a sex scene?" Well. That's a good question. Hm. I'll have to think on that.

So, anyway, it's a human AU wherein Professor!Hob (well, lecturer, technically) holds a series of intro lectures on Literary History. A certain tall, dark mysterious stranger sits in the front row every week without fail, watching and listening very intently. Of course, Hob does his best to ignore how attractive this guy is, because god dammit he's trying to be a better person these days and hooking up with his students does not help with that. Except...is he actually a student...? *the soundtrack in the background turns mysterious*

You may find out if you read the snippet below and also PART TWO and PART THREE since several of you asked about this WIP! (List of titles in the og WIP game post here.)

PART ONE

Part of the problem was that the man always sat in the front row, thus giving Hob far too good of a view of his full body, which was just as unfairly gorgeous as his face. His proclivity for the skinniest of jeans did nothing to help Hob in he Sisyphean task of keeping his eyes away, nor did the fact that he kept looking right back.

Of course, Hob was lecturing, and so it was to be expected that his students would look at him when he talked, but he also expected them to look away at least some of the time. At their notebooks or laptops as they took notes, for example, which this bloke never ever seemed to do. Sure, it was not an advanced course by any definition, and he might have a good memory, or was one of those people who preferred not to distract themselves with taking notes during lectures, instead refreshing his memory by studying at home later. Or perhaps he didn’t care about getting more than a barely passing grade for a basic course like this—except he appeared to be paying rapt attention at all times. It was likely this intense focus which made it so hard for Hob to just ignore him. He had taught plenty of good-looking people throughout his career, and it had never been a problem until now. He was quite practised at turning off the part of the brain that noticed such things, and, even when he did notice, it normally didn’t fluster him like this. The man just had a…a weight to his gaze, somehow. His pale eyes were piercing, and Hob could practically feel them boring into him even when his back was turned. He also believed that he had caught them wandering over his body every so often—lingering on his arms when he rolled his sleeves up to combat the heat of a fully packed and poorly ventilated classroom, homing in on the sliver of tummy skin exposed as he had to stretch up to turn the projector on with a pointer when the damn remote control malfunctioned again, and fixating on the hint of chest hair visible that one time he had accidentally left one too many buttons undone on his shirt. He really, really wished that he had not noticed any of this, because the only thing worse than being attracted to a student was being attracted to a student who reciprocated. Fortunately, the man had done nothing to indicate that he intended to actually make a move on Hob, which was some small consolation. In fact, many tortuous weeks passed without him saying a single a word, never raising his hand to answer one of Hob’s questions or ask one of his own, never approaching him after lectures with queries about the curriculum or the final exam, never even talking to his classmates. All he did was sit there, in the same place every time (front row, third seat from the right), silently staring at Hob while nursing a cup of coffee from Bennie’s café two buildings over. Then, every week without fail, he quietly slipped out of the room exactly five minutes before the time was up and the lecture ended, presumably to rush to some other lecture on a tight schedule. Hob could only hope that he checked the information he put up online about suggested reading and the end-of-term examination, since he never stayed to hear Hob’s reminders at the end of the lectures.