#but i totally get what y'all mean with my chapter endings

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

mr trashcanwithsprinkles i swear if you don't add cliffhangers we will still come back to read you don't need to resort to such horrible tactics :(((( /lh

genuinely unsure if that even counts as a cliffhanger honestly

like i'm not debating you but still. they're so fun to write;;

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.” 

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade. 

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less. 

“Hurricane’s coming.” 

“Bomb’s dropping.” 

“World‘s ending.” 

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic. 

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense. 

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning. 

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last. 

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?” 

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself. 

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.” 

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed. 

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.” 

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back. 

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding. 

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood. 

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.” 

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home. 

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound. 

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon. 

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up. 

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours. 

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down. 

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!” 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you. 

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under  your breath. 

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had. 

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them. 

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions. 

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like. 

You know he’s right. 

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.” 

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.” 

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game. 

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away. 

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention. 

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?” 

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf. 

“Hey!” 

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you. 

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming. 

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat. 

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold. 

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-” 

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!” 

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.” 

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them. 

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.” 

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?” 

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you. 

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.” 

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small. 

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.” 

Frankie. 

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right. 

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.” 

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name. 

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?” 

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him. 

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed. 

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort. 

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks. 

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.” 

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment. 

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which. 

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.” 

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke. 

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade. 

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours. 

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football. 

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you. 

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you. 

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task,  to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales. 

You weren’t ever going to let him down. 

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you. 

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.” 

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?” 

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.” 

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend. 

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself. 

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them. 

“Fine. She can stay.” 

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi. 

“Nice work, Kenz.” 

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest. 

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind. 

Frankie, Present 

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there. 

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place. 

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t. 

“Hey, Mamá.” 

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”  

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-” 

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.” 

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?” 

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.” 

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-” 

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.” 

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago. 

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there. 

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey. 

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come. 

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all. 

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person. 

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for. 

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad. 

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too. 

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!” 

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!” 

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.” 

“Perfect, you look just like him.” 

“Frankie!” 

“Kidding, kidding!” 

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same. 

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters. 

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it. 

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you. 

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now. 

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is. 

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi. 

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass. 

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.” 

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth. 

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?” 

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you. 

“Fine. What flavor jello?” 

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.” 

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left. 

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.” 

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.” 

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering. 

“Your dad only eats jello?” 

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.” 

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before. 

“Um, w-why?” 

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better. 

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.” 

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.” 

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.” 

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back. 

“Your dad sounds nice.” 

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?” 

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know. 

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.” 

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building. 

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys. 

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.” 

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.” 

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?” 

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.” 

“Are they as bad as mine?” 

“No. They’re worse.” 

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say. 

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

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@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[andypantsx3]

andie's wips for gaza — ˖˚˳⊹

hi all! i'm not sure if this is something anyone would be interested in but i'm giving it a shot. i have a little capacity to contribute to fics for gaza's option to sponsor a wip. below are a couple of my wips i think i can realistically deliver all or most of before end of year, divided into current wips + a few smutty one shots i hope you might be interested in. if any more of my time clears up i can add more & let y'all know!!

i'm setting the threshold at the standard rate of $1 donation per 100 words, any extra would be sooo incredibly appreciated but obviously not at all required! notes on how this will all work below my wips.

update 5/29 — ˖˚˳⊹

All of my WIPs have been fully funded! I am so deeply grateful to everyone who donated and/or helped spread the word. I promise to work hard and write fics that live up to just how much this means to me. If you still have capacity to donate, I encourage you to check out the other authors participating and help fund their WIPs too. Thank you so much; your generosity means the entire world to me.

current wips — ˖˚˳⊹

something in the water : todoroki shouto x reader

As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. — estimated remaining wc: 3 chapters @ 3k each (9,000 total words) — donated wc: 9,000/9,000 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 3,800/9,000 words

ready or knot : todoroki shouto x reader

Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... — estimated remaining wc: 5 chapters @ 2.5k each (12,500 words) — donated wc: 12,600/12,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 200/12,500 words

new wips (smutty one shots) — ˖˚˳⊹

title tbd : midoriya izuku x reader

When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. contents: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, fluff — estimated wc: 2,500 words — donated wc: 2,500/2,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 300/2,500 words

loads of fun : todoroki shouto x reader

After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he catches you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. contents: nsft, pro hero au, domesticity kink, gn + afab reader established relationship, fluff, emotional sex — estimated wc: 2,500 words — donated wc: 2,500/2,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 2,800/2,500 words completed!

filling in : bakugou katsuki x reader

A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent goes missing, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki. contents: thee classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar bakugou, soft dom bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush — estimated wc: 3,000 words — donated wc: 3,000/3,000 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 300/3,000 words

notes — ˖˚˳⊹

rate: $1 (USD) donation per 100 words, any extra would be sooo incredibly appreciated but obviously not at all required!

how it works (you): send me an ask with the wip you're donating towards and a screenshot of your donation to any fund from this list, a charity of your choice (please make sure it's verified), or my preferred one here! please do not send the same screenshot to multiple authors, and please make sure any personal information is scrubbed from your screenshot as i will be supplying @ficsforgaza with the proof of your donation!! i will aim to update the donated wc section of each wip in this post so there's not overlap in what people are donating for.

how it works (me): i will log my progress below each wip (the progress tracker section of each) & will commit to updating that count weekly. i will work in the rough order of donations received, by adding that number of words to each wip. this also means that for $5 i could add 500 words but not publish until the chapter or oneshot is completed, so please be aware of that!! my goal is to at least publish every single word people have donated for by end of year, but obviously things can happen & i will provide updates if anything gets in the way of that!

if you have any further questions please let me know!! i've never done something like this and it's very probable i've left something unclear lol.

lastly i'd like to thank you in advance for helping out if you can, but no worries if not! i also know times are tough and money is tight, and i'd encourage you to check out the other writers on @ficsforgaza's list of participants when published to see if you'd rather spend your money on one of their wips (or their custom requests!) before selecting mine!! the money goes towards a good cause either way.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Y'all there's no freaking way the mystery character in 425 is Tenko. I don't think it's any character we've met before. (And it sure as hell isn't Deku's dad, god that theory is so dumb). The identity of this new character in fact is basically told to us in Todoroki's line earlier in the chapter.

This is most likely a new character entirely, a Tenko parallel who is on the cusp of becoming a villain and that needs someone to reach out to him the way nobody ever did for Tenko. Someone that's going to put Deku's new resolve and mission to the test. It's Horikoshi's way of saying that just because the heroes defeated Shigaraki and All for One, that doesn't mean that they're victorious - they've only gone back to square one.

But square one and the status quo is not a win for these heroes. They need to better their world and build towards a bright future that will prevent the creation of villains like the League. And I think the appearance of one last villain in this story is a great way to show that.

Deku and friends had to use the old hero ways to defeat the League, yes. But now they get to decide what the new image of a hero looks like. And maybe they can even get rid of the idea of villains altogether.

So, no. Even as a die-hard Shigaraki simp, I am not putting my bets on the "Tenko is revived" horse. And honestly? I don't even think I want this character to be Shigaraki or Tenko or whatever version of him people think it will be. I think that would actually invalidate his death earlier even more. Because if nothing else, Deku did save that crying child within him. He did heal Shigaraki's heart and get him to let go of his hatred. But look at this guy:

This man is in fucking DISTRESS. He has none of the acceptance or calm or even will to fight that Shigaraki had - during his death or otherwise. I think if this was the Tenko that was resurrected, someone so clearly disturbed and in pain, then it would make the one save Deku did make in that fight completely meaningless.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I don't technically hate the way Shigaraki went out. I'm glad that in the end, he died as himself rather than turncoating to join the heroes. I'm glad he's not going to be rotting in prison for the rest of his life. And I'm glad his legacy is clearly going to live on in this world through Deku, even if he doesn't personally.

This issue that I have with Shigaraki's death is the pacing of it. That's all.

I'm still not giving up hope that Shigaraki comes back as a vestige/force ghost though. That for me feels like the only way to bring him back that wouldn't totally undermine the climax of the story.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Unknown amount of chapters right now.

Chapter 1: Pilot: Delta finds their Madonna Chapter 2: The wedding Chapter 3: Aftermath of the wedding FishBen: Symptom of Being Human Chapter 4: Pope is not pleased. Chapter 5: Jonah lore, Madonna gets through to Frankie Chapter 6: Madonna gains Frankie's heart, Santi is jealous Iris: Rey and Iris find pockets of time Chapter 7: Fun with Ben: wining Pope back Chapter 8: big announcement to the community

Non canon Frankie Madonna Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10: There's a lot Madonna doesn't know.

Chapter 11: Things start to crumble around Madonna

Chapter 12: It's all too much for Madonna

Chapter 1 3: Santiago’s true colors come out

Chapter 14: Jonah tries to show the truth

Chapter 15: madonna begins to learn her power

Chapter 16: Frankie and Ben reflect

Chapter 17: Ben shows his true colors

Chapter 18: Iris makes her stand

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?" Jonah smut

Jonah Hanson character ai

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

As I said, a lot of themes and dynamics ended up accidentally similarly to Watch Your Step by the amazing @charnelhouse Some was because that fic is what developed my characterizations of the boys. Some was totally incidental, like Pope and readers relation to art. It's different though, a much different series, but I wanted to tell y'all that she s PUBLISHING WYS AS A NOVEL NOW, Its called Cardinal Sin's and I'll link it right here!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

THANK YOU FOR YOU'RE SUPPORT!

Please remember to reblog, and I love comments/asks, anon or not, and would love to see engagement and theories!

[flatassthrowaway]

Passionate and Deeply

~Chapter One~

Y'all might actually hate me for this chapter, but you can let me know what you think.

Just a gentle reminder that this story will eventually become 18+. MDNI please.

If you didn't read the prologue, it's here. Enjoy!

A few days passed, and it was now the end of February. I haven’t seen Ford for a whole week since we met. According to Susan, I just missed him the other day.

I wonder… was he looking for me?

No, it couldn’t be. No one sought after me.

He’s probably busy anyway with his paranormal investigations. He doesn’t have time to think about lil ol’ me.

Nevertheless, he did give me his address and said to stop by whenever I wanted to talk about the paranormal.

I was finished with my work for the day, and we only had like one more hour of sunlight before it was total darkness, so I decided to go visit him. I mean, why not? It’s not like I have anything better to do.

I got all bundled up before heading out the door. As I locked the door, I noted that the icicles around my home appeared to be… moving?

I shook my head and looked at the icicles again, but they were completely still.

Sheesh, I think I’ve been working too long. Now I think the icicles are moving.

Maybe getting out of the house will do me some good.

Thankfully, his home wasn’t too far from mine. But… I did start seeing weird signs shaped as arrows that said, “To the Mystery Shack,” and “Amazing!” as well as “Enter!”

Where did he live, exactly? And why were there so many bizarre signs leading to his home?

By the time I got there, there was a young man sitting on the porch of the home, talking with…

Ford!

He was fully bundled up with a maroon jacket lined with faux fur, and dark jeans with dark brown winter boots.

“There you are, Ford!” I called him, rushing over.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Uh… what? Do I know you, kid?” He asked in a raspy voice.

Oh no! I wonder if he caught a cold? Although, it sounds like he’d been smoking for a while to have that kind of voice. I didn’t notice it during our time at the diner.

“Come on, Ford! It’s me!” I told him my name again. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already!”

“Kid, listen! I told you I don’t know who you are! Now leave us alone and get outta here!” He said in an even rougher tone, and he turned his back to me.

I sighed sadly. I guess he really doesn’t remember…

“Wait a sec, girl dude! Mr. Pines, why are you being so mean to the nice lady? She’s just looking for your brother,” the man on the porch spoke. He wore a dark green jacket, grey sweatpants and black winter boots.

“What…? Brother?” I asked. This man looked identical to Ford!

Twins…?

The man sighed and turned around. “I’m not Ford. My brainiac brother is inside. I’m Stanley Pines, but you can call me Stan,” he introduced.

“And I’m Soos, Mr. Mystery himself! I, along with my wife and grandma, live here with Mr. Pines and his twin brother,” Soos introduced.

I smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Soos… and Stan.”

“You too, girl dude!”

The door then opened, revealing a young woman who appeared to be the same age as me, but she was heavily pregnant. She wore a long sleeved lavender dress that fell to her feet, and white fluffy slippers. She had light brown wavy hair that was pulled up in a ponytail, hazelnut brown eyes, and tan skin.

“Soos? Mr. Pines? Dinner’s ready!” She told them.

“Finally! Thanks Mel,” Stan said, leaving the three of us.

Well at least I found people in my age range. The woman, who I assume is Mel, turned to me. “Oh, hello! Soos, who’s this?”

Soos introduced me to her. “And this is Melody Ramirez, my lovely wife, and soon-to-be mother of my child,” he said.

I smiled. I could feel the love radiating from his words about his wife. He truly loves her.

“Nice to meet you, Melody,” I said.

“You as well,” she said. “Hey! Why don’t you come in for dinner? We’re having meatloaf tonight!”

“Oh… I wouldn’t want to impose…” I trailed off.

“Hey, don’t worry about Mr. Pines,” Soos said my name. “He’s a little rough at first, but he’s one of a kind. Plus, his twin brother is here, which is who you really wanted to see, right?”

I nodded. “Yes…”

“So come in! I’d hate for you to be left out in the cold,” Melody told me.

I smiled and nodded as Soos went in, and I went in after him, instantly feeling much warmer. I took my shoes off, and once I finished, Melody and Soos gave me a strange look.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This isn’t a shoe free home. You can keep your shoes on,” Melody told me as Soos went to the table.

I shrugged. “Mine is. I suppose old habits die hard.”

“As long as you’re comfortable. Come on, let’s get you some food,” she said, guiding me to the dining table.

An elderly woman, who I assume is Soos’ grandmother, happily dished out food, and I saw Stan and Ford side by side, seemingly bickering. Soos was at the head of the table and started eating the food in front of him.

There was meatloaf, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, kale, broccoli and asparagus. There was a large pitcher in the middle that was steaming.

This truly looks like a feast.

As I approached the table with Melody, I heard what the bickering between Ford and his brother was about.

“But you told me I ought to make some more friends! I finally made another one and you’re irate over it?!” Ford said incredulously.

“Poindexter, I said find a friend, not someone you can fuck around with,” Stan said.

Ugh, he’s one of those guys.

“Ay! Language!” The grandmother scolded Stan. “Not in front of mi bisnieto!”

“Sorry toots,” he told her before turning to Ford. “But I’m serious, Poindexter. If-“

“Um, Mr. Pines-“

Stan cut Soos off. “Not now, Soos! I’m tryin’ to-“

Soos cut Stan off. “But Mr. Pines, she’s right here!” Soos cried.

Both Ford and Stan looked at Melody and myself, and went wide eyed.

“Well… shit,” Stan said.

“Stanley Pines!” Abuelita scolded him.

“Sorry! Sweet Moses…”

Melody turned to me and smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry about this. It’s normally not this noisy. Or rude,” she told me apologetically.

I shook my head. “No harm done,” I told her.

Melody sat down next to her husband, and Abuelita begrudgingly took a seat next to Stan. Seeing four empty seats, I took the one next to Melody. I wonder why there’s so many?

Actually, Ford did say his niece and nephew visited, so maybe it was for them.

Melody and I dished out for ourselves, and we began eating, along with the rest of the family.

“I just wanted to thank you for inviting me into your home,” I told them.

“Anytime, cariño. It’s nice to see that my granddaughter-in-law has a friend who she can share things with,” Abuelita told me.

Aww, she’s so kind. She reminds me of my own grandmother. I miss her…

“Actually Abuelita, she’s a friend of Ford,” Melody corrected her. “Although I wouldn’t mind being friends.”

“It would be nice to have a girlfriend here, I agree,” I told her.

“Oh? Wow, you must really like her to invite her here Mr. Stanford. Never invite anyone to our home, except that hillbilly man,” Abuelita remarked as she continued eating.

Ford doesn’t appear to trust people. I guess that’s one thing we have in common.

Except that hillbilly man she spoke of. I wonder who he is.

Ford scratched the back of his head. “Why, yes. I believe that she would make a great co- I mean female friend,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful!”

“So,” Soos said my name in between bites of his food. “What brings you to our wonderful town?”

I smiled. “I’m here for work,” I told him.

“Yeah, what kinda work you do?” Stan asked.

“Stanley, it’s ’what kind of work do you do?’” Ford corrected him.

“Poindexter I swear if you start with that grammar shi-“ Stan cut himself off when he noticed Abuelita was glaring at him. “I mean that grammar thing, we’re gonna have some problems!”

Ford rolled his eyes as I told everyone what I did for work.

“Oh, so you can travel and still maintain the same kind of work? That’s cool!” Melody said.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Listen, let me cut to the chase,” Stan told me. “How long ago did you meet my brother?”

“About a week ago,” I said.

Stan turned to his brother. “Normally I’d be happy for you, Sixer, but I don’t like this,” he told his brother.

“Stanley, why is-“

I drowned out their bickering and quickly finished my food. I thanked Melody, Soos and Abuelita for having me, and Melody went to see me off.

“I’m sorry about that again. You’re always welcome back here… with or without those two.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Melody. I hope to speak with you further at a later time.”

“Me too. I hope this doesn’t taint your experience of Gravity Falls. It’s a wonderful town, I promise,” she told me as I donned my winter boots again.

“Thank you, Melody. Have a good night. Rest well,” I told her.

“Thanks! See you around,” Melody told me as she waved.

I waved back as I stepped outside, and began trekking home. The wind was cold and bit at the exposing skin on my face.

I knew I should have brought a face cover.

“Wait!” I heard a familiar voice call my name.

I turned around to see Ford running up to me. He caught up to me and gave me an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry for what my brother said about you. He should have never said those demeaning words to describe you,” he told me.

I shook my head. “It was coming from a place of concern, so I understand,” I told him as we kept walking to my home. “I mean… I’d be a little surprised if he was on board with our budding friendship. Honestly… I’m surprised I’m not too young for you.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Why would that be a problem?” Ford asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You hear stories about young people like me taking advantage of older people? I think that’s what your brother is afraid of…”

“I’m sure you’re very smart dear, but I am rather intelligent. I would know if you were trying to take advantage of me,” Ford told me.

I gave him a half smile. “That’s the thing, Ford,” I told him. “You can be as smart as Einstein, Newton and Tesla combined, but emotions can cloud your judgement no matter how smart or how dull you are. Maybe… maybe your brother is right. Maybe we shouldn’t pursue this friendship…”

We arrived at my house, and he turned to me. “Is that what you want?” Stanford asked. “Please, look me in the eye and tell me that this is what you want.”

I looked at him, and… I can’t tell him that.

Maybe it’s because I’ve gone without having any close friends for so long, but… I really, really don’t want our budding friendship to end. It’s been so long since I had a friendship that I actually felt good about.

“I-“ I cut myself off.

The chime of the icicles interrupted me. I looked away from him as I saw the icicles come to life. And… I wasn’t going crazy! They really are mice!

“Ahh!” I cried, startled that the icicles turned into mice. We both heard a beeping coming from him. Ford turned around and looked at what I saw, and he breathed a sigh of relief, his breath manifesting in a small bit of mist escaping his mouth.

I looked at him in confusion. How the hell was he not freaking out?

“Well, I finally found it. The anomaly we were looking for,” Ford said, taking out a tablet and taking a picture of the ice-made mice.

What… the hell?

I was absolutely dumbfounded. Was this a part of his paranormal investigations?

“Is that… what?” I said in shock.

This was the first time I heard him genuinely laugh. It was… it was pleasing to hear.

“I’m sorry they gave you a fright. These little guys were what I was looking for,” Ford told me, softly caressing one of them with his index finger. These little icicle mice were rather… affectionate? It rubbed its tiny head against his finger.

“So this is what you do,” I said. “You never answered me in terms of what you did, after all.”

Ford scratched the back of his head. “Ah, that is true. I suppose I do owe you.”

I looked at him expectantly, and he turned a little pink. I looked away in order for him to feel more comfortable. I have been told that my gaze is a little jarring.

“In short, you were right to say that I am a paranormal investigator,” he told me. “I am also a scientist and adventurer.”

I smiled. “Ha! I knew it!” I said, watching the little icicle mice curl up with each other to create one large icicle.

It’s so interesting how… they even exist.

“I just hope… the experience with my brother doesn’t dissuade you from coming to see me again,” he told me. “I meant it when I said you could come and see me whenever you wanted to talk about paranormal topics.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Ford.”

He gave me a kind smile in return. My smile dropped, and he gave me a concerned look, almost as if to ask me what was wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your brother when we were in the diner?” I asked.

Ford sighed. “To be frank… I try not to talk about him. Not because I’m ashamed of my brother, but…”

I nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

Ford scratched the back of his head. “Well, perhaps I can tell you at a different time.”

I nodded. “Whatever is most comfortable for you.”

“While I have you here…” Ford trailed off. “Why did you give me the exact change of the bill? Even after you went on that tirade about needing me to be a gentleman?”

I raised an eyebrow. “It most definitely was not a tirade! I said one sentence!” I retorted. “But, with that being said… I would be comfortable telling you that at a different time.”

Ford nodded. “I see. Perhaps instead of you dropping by unannounced, we set a date for when we can speak about our favorite topic,” he told me with a smile.

I gave him a small smile. “At long last, a solution!” I said playfully.

Ford chuckled. “Friday almost always seems to be a good day for spending time with others, if my people watching is anything to go by.”

I chuckled. “This Friday it is,” I told him. “I didn’t realize you were such a stalker, Ford~”

Ford blushed when I said this, and scratched the back of his head.

Mbjr mbjr mbjr mbjr

Zopa zopa zopa

Why the hell do I always do that? I always make people uncomfortable and put my foot in my mouth! This is why I can’t keep any friends! Now this nice man doesn’t even want to meet up anymore.

Thankfully, he did crack a smile and chuckled, which relieved some of my anxiety.

“Goodnight,” he said my name. “Rest well.”

“Goodnight, Ford. You too,” I told him. I waved to him as I went inside and closed my door, and it wasn’t until then that he started walking back to his home.

Also, what the hell was he talking about when he said that house was eerily quiet? That was a lively home!

Whatever. I’ll bust his chops about it later.

For now, I sleep.

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Next part is here!

[bibibbon]

I made a huge mistake in going to the MHA subreddit. The braindead takes on 427 have me convinced I'm stuck in a parallel universe where we're reading a completely different story:

"It's great seeing Deku play therapist with the LOV, but all it seems to have done is make things worse!" A) Izuku shouldn't be having to play therapist to begin with, considering he's a 16 year old kid. B) most of the LOV don't see anything they did as wrong, so idk what the fuck Izuku can do about that. Also, WHY AREN'T PEOPLE HELPING IZUKU WITH HIS OWN GODDAMN FEELINGS?!

Apparently Bakugou killed Kurogiri, and there's absolutely ZERO reaction to it both in and out of universe. So of fucking course Izuku is a murderer, but not their precious Bakugou 🥱.

"I feel like Hori's really underrated as a writer!" Horikoshi doesn't know Show Don't Tell, how to actually develop characters, and how to craft actual stakes in the narrative from a hole in the ground. Also, MHA is one of the most popular mangas worldwide, so you're not even using underrated right.

"I feel like Horikoshi sees our discussions and then implements them in the story!" This I can kind of agree with, considering how much y'all hate Izuku and worship Bakugou. But on the other hand, I really doubt Horikoshi thinks the MHA subreddit is as important as you think it is.

"Bakugou's totally going to ask Izuku to start their own hero agency together at the end!" Jesus fucking Christ, just say you hate Izuku. How would that be a great ending for him? He not only has to see the source of his low self esteem and borderline suicidal feelings achieving the dream he'll now never have, but you want them to WORK together?!

@nutzgunray-lvt 👋

Well a lot of the time looking into Reddit is always a mistake unless you're asking a very niche question and you get an answer from 9 years ago or something.

I feel like a lot of people whether that be in universe or in fandom forget that izuku is a 16 year old child soldier. Izuku is more than a decade younger than a lot of the villains in the leauge. He is a child who has been exploited by the system and abused. We have seen in 425 izuku try and talk to someone but simply get brushed aside and while I don't blame shoto or ochako for doing that as they probably didn't mean it and are traumatised themselves it kinda of shows how much this has effected izuku. Also this doesn't help BECAUSE HORI GAVE US NO FLIPPING INTROPSECTION ON IZUKU'S BIT AGAIN!! Also Iam not sure if it's just me but Izuku's eye bags are heavily prominent in this chapter especially when he is talking to spinner.

The fandom especially the lov stans side of it love babayifying the actions of the leauge and hyper fixating on the humane soft side they may have while completely ignoring the horrible actions they commited. I talk about this better in one of @palesweetscherryblossom asks

I still can't believe that bk may of killed kurogiri. I don't even know when that happend and I checked the wiki but it says that kurogiris status is unconfirmed so I will be waiting until the last chapter to fully acknowledge if kurogiri is dead or not. However this brings up the point that the fandoms is being quite hypocritical if they're calling izuku a murder but not bakugo. They both killed people but for some reason it's izuku thats put into public light and bashing instead of all the other characters that have killed in the series including villains.

Yeah sometimes it feels like hori is looking at discussions of his series and implementing ideas but I think that goes more for his Japanese fans than us to be honest because after all they're his target demographic. I remember when I first joined Tumblr one of my earliest posts talked about how horikoshi's writing decisions were heavily influenced by his fans which may or may not be true.

At this point IAM convinced that izuku isn't getting a proper happy ending. Every time I think it can't get worse it does. Just by your comment of them starting an agency together haunts me just like the possibility that bk may become the number one hero

[errruvande]

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @thelettersfromnoone for the tag!! 💖

How many work do u have on AO3?

3, not your local AO3 girlie lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

8 534

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I'll go with Tumblr ones, cause from my 3 AO3 works the biggest number I got is 31 lmao

Anyone but you (Legolas x f!reader)

Night watch (Legolas x Reader)

Well-deserved rest (Haldir x f!Reader)

One messy night (Boromir x f!Reader)

Transition (Haldir x f!Reader)

Honorable mention (since it's not fics but headcanons)

Green Council receiving a hot pic from you (HotD)

TLK men's reaction on being pet named

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments! These little things are brightening up my day, so I wanna let the people know that they are my heroes hahaha

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I really think it's Transition. All in all it's a pretty dark story, a bit depressing I think (I had these intentions while writing at least).

Otherwise, I don't think I have angsty endings fics?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

New family members for sure!! Was thinking hard what to choose, cause I think all of my happy ending fics are on the pretty same level on a happy scale, but I remember that I have this gen, non romantic baby and I love it so much ❤️‍🩹 There's a little TLK OMC for y'all

Do you write crossovers?

I wanted to say I've never done this BUT THEN!!! My Assassin's Creed (Ezio) x LOTR little headcanon!!! My beloved child!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, not that I remember getting any hate on my fics

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, tho not much and on rare occasions. I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger (a teen), then I stopped being comfortable with it for a wild few years (tho reading never made me uncomfortable lmao).

Now I started writing smut again, idk what kind? Don't really understand what does that mean lol F x M traditional sex? Pretty detailed? If so, then yes lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know 😂 Maybe, maybe not. I think rather not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge, I don't think so.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

We tried with my friend a long long time ago. Didn't go well lmao It's hard and kinda stressing, cause you never know what the other person is gonna write (at least we had this SURPRISE system), so... You kinda have zero plot cause everything you want to write plot-wise can be ruined by the second person's plot lmao

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Athelnar?? Athelstan and Ragnar were my first ever OTP (quickly followed by Alfred and Uhtred). You could never beat that Athelnar shit out of my body lmao I've never written for them, but oh I do love them boys!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Now, that's the HARSH one lmao

I think I have at least 3 OC stories that I really wanna write (2 for TLK and one for LOTR), but I'm scared that I will never actually do it. I never was good with multi chaptered stories, and these are indeed not a one shots 🥲

What are your writing strengths?

Ugh... I don't know? I think I was pretty good with dialogues and descriptions of the surroundings to build the atmosphere. But... I guess it's not for me to decide but for the readers?

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely finish what I've started lmao I should write everything in one go or else I'll never finish it... Or will finish it in two months even if it's a 2k words one shot

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love them! I've only done it with my LOTR fics (with Sindarin) but I really love it. But I really love it when the language is different from the language of the settings? Like, if the story is happening in England and everyone is English, but you have two characters who can speak idk Dutch, let them have a Dutch language in their dialogue. I had a rant post about it not that long ago actually lmao You have to think about your in-universe language

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Ahhh Bungou Stray Dogs! I love them, and I'd gladly try to write something for them. Not a character/character but reader my beloved.

And maybe Stephane Narcisse (reign) my beloved and a reader

What's your favorite fic you've written?

The blood on my hands (Eomer) and Peace (Finan) are definitely my fave ones I think. They are dark and both explore some trauma

No pressure tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @holy3cake @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @emmanuellececchi @bilbotargaryen @levithestripper @mrsarnasdelicious @paula-in-dreamland

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A big ol' fuck you to @rmd-writes for the tag xoxo

1. How many works do you have an AO3? Lol. Lmao even. 289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 914,620 on AO3, but that includes co-writes as well as things I've podficced where the fic and pod are in the same work. My actual personally-written wordcount, per my Batshit Spreadsheet, is 771,819.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly RWRB these days, though most of my back catalogue is Schitt's Creek. Also The Pairing and various other things scattered about.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kinda think that I might be his type aka Alex and Bea fake date coming in at the top spot, which will never not bewilder me. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely fic!! But I am always surprised that it was a few hundred more kudos than:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), the Much Ado actors AU. My magnum opus, my beloved.

We were supposed to find this - baby's first soulmate AU and my first RWRB fic. The brainrot really took hold with this one lmao.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, in which Henry takes 'open mouth insert foot' to a whole new level.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe, the age gap fic with older Senator Alex and younger Prince Henry. This is probably the only one in my top five that really surprises me, considering age gaps are... divisive.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I mean I did write that one MCD fic in Schitt's Creek, though I maintain the other five parts in that 5+1 are in fact angstier than the MCD ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uhhhhhhh, the rest? The Doylist answer is any of my fics where the HEA is literally forever rather than 'till death do us part'; so, the Schitt's Creek afterlife AU and the RWRB zombie!Alex AU. (Is that all? Am I forgetting one?)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes. Weirdly, more through tumblr anons than on the fics themselves? A lot of them I just delete, sometimes I'll give them a bit of a public scolding etc. Frankly at this point if you come into my ask box to be a cunt on anon I'm going to assume you have a public humiliation kink and will indulge you accordingly.

9. Do you write smut? Who's to say.

10. Do you write crossovers? I'm more inclined towards a fusion than a crossover (love a good media fusion) but I did write a short RWRB/The Pairing crossover for VoiceTeam.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Someone did ask recently, so we'll see!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? HEAPS. @ships-to-sail is an ongoing collaborator, but I also did a bunch of "each write a chapter" type collabs in Schitt's Creek. Currently co-writing something truly fucking incredible with @indestructibleheart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? IDK if it's a WIP by the strictest definition, but every day the likelihood of the SC kink!verse series being completed slips further away lol.

16. What are your writing strengths? Rae, you're the worst.

Smut, I guess? Giving people new kinks, apparently. Character voice. Also a very specific type of world-building where I explain nothing because the characters already live in that world and let y'all infer how it works, which came up a LOT on one of this year's Kinktober fics in particular and led to my spouse saying "okay so you're basically the Brennan Lee Mulligan of tree fucking", which is sure not a sentence I expected to ever be directed towards me, but here we are.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything original, apparently. Good thing I didn't quit my job to be a writer or anything OH WAIT.

(In all seriousness, though, I am genuinely shit at, like, plotting. And action sequences.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it makes sense for the character, sure! I'm enlisting someone who speaks it for anything more complicated than, like, a pet name - I've seen what Google Translate tries to spit out for my second language and therefore don't trust it lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for? terf queen mcgee's property.

20. Favourite fics you've written? The RWRB fic specifically based on the episode The Husbands of River Song from Doctor Who. Hands down the best thing I've ever written.

I also fucking LOVED the Much Ado actor AU. My love letter to Shakespeare and theatre and queer joy.

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[liminalmemories21]

There’s a way that panic can make you feel nauseous, and he has to swallow hard before he can get the words out.  “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Trudie gives him an approving smile, like a teacher with a student who’s given the right answer.  “You’re going to help me steal a statue.”

The Knave of Clubs . . . swears he'll take her part

liner notes below the cut

First things first.  Yes, Iris is in this alot.  No, there is no secret marriage. This is not a spoiler, this was referenced in the previous story in this series. The Carlos in this universe is a step to the left of the Carlos in canon, and he has different experiences.  Also, this is my unhinged AU, which means I get to pick and choose which bits of canon I work with.   I did not vibe with that one.

Second things second.  This was going to be a caper, y'all.  It was going to be a short caper.  Carlos and TK were going to go to NOLA and help the Leverage crew take care of some business , and, I don't know, eat beignets and popsicles.  Why popsicles and not po'boys?  Because the last time I was in NOLA I had the best popsicles of my life - they sadly no longer exist, but I can resurrect them for fic.  I also had excellent po'boys, but the popsicles were better.

[eyes fic] I don't know what happened?  Okay, I do know.  One of the weird upsides to writing a series is that you get to deal in consequences and messy afters, and the way that making a decision isn't the end to that decision, and what you did last time around keeps echoing in what you do this time.  Nothing exists in isolation.  And, I love love a story about what happens after - after the war, after the quest, after the reveal.  How do you rebuild, what happens next.  That is my die-hard kink.  Also, there was S4 of Lonestar and I had . . . thoughts, questions, concerns, reactions.  I worked them out in fic.

Third things third.  My characterization of Trudie in this fic owes a debt to Mags Bennett in S2 of Justified.  She was terrifying, and ruthless, and totally in control, and one of the most interesting characters - she's why that season was so good.  Also, go watch Justified, it's fantastic.

Fourth things last.  As ever, don't try this at home y'all, this is not how any of this works.

Reference links in final chapter, because see previous notes about being too much of a geek not to footnote.

And finally, the chapters aren't for @rmd-writes, but they're not not for her either (sorry @freneticfloetry- but this time, the structure did actually lend itself to chapters).

[soaps-mohawk]

okay so firstly, I do have to say, it is your blog, you can do whatever you want, blah blah blah moving on

Secondly, I'd like to point out that professional writers usually take breaks between books as well. in my opinion, the first "book" of CRCB either ended after omega was rescued or will end after this next chapter depending on how long the story ends up being (I'm basing this totally off vibes btw pls don't take me seriously I beg)

that being said, you're doing this for free. FREE. if professional writers (who are paid to write) can take breaks, so the FUCK can you. the story you're creating is amazing and incredible, and while I (and probably everyone else who reads it) appreciates the regular updates, we also understand that you're a human, not a living typewriter.

take a break. please, God, take a break. focus on kyletober, or other fics, or even just go on a full writing hiatus if you need. but please, take care of yourself first. we can wait. we'll be fine. there's other authors and fics in the meantime.

Thank you, love 💚

That is true, even professional writers take breaks (I mean GRRM has taken like what more than ten years for the next ISOIAF book? Looking at you George...)

I do think this is a place where it would split into the next fic, if I was going to do things that way. There's still quite a bit to get through, even though we've kind of already had the big climax for at least that bit. So yeah, you're right that this would be the end of the first book so to speak lol.

And yeah, that's a good thing to remember. I do this mostly for free (not counting Patreon). It's a hobby and I do have a life outside of this hobby that I have to attend to that matters more than the fic and the blog and everything. I have a job because I have to have money to survive and I have appointments and friends and other things I like to do. While I've been blessed for a good chunk of the year to be able to focus a lot of time on this blog and this fic, it's just not possible anymore. At least for the time being. Come January and the end of the holiday season and as my job kind of winds down, then yeah. I'll probably be able to focus more energy on the fic and the blog again, but for now, I have to take a break.

It's not even just real life that's getting in the way, I'm burning out on the fic too. I've put out over 300k words in about eight months with weekly updates. That's a lot. That's on average almost 10k words a week counting this next chapter. It's hard to write 10k words in a single week. Chapters are starting to get hard to write and I'm finding myself excited that I'm taking a break and won't have to worry about writing the next chapter, so yeah. It's time for a little break from CRCB to let my mind focus somewhere else (I'm so hyped for Kyletober y'all have no idea) and refill those creative juices towards CRCB.

But thank you for being so understanding. Really. It's so reassuring to see everyone being so supportive. And it's not like i'm not going to be writing during this time, I'm just focusing my energy elsewhere for a bit to give myself a much needed break. 💚

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you @thewholelemon @moodandmist @run-for-chamo-miles and @youarenevertooold for the tags! I'm in love with everything y'all posted, what the hell.

In other news, it seems like my recipe for success is to have a Bad Saturday, unexpectedly write an unprecedented amount on Sunday, manage nothing throughout the week, then rinse and repeat. However, yesterday was a kind of okay Saturday, and I've still written a lot today, so maybe the point is really just Sunday.

In any case, what I've written today is from the same unexpected fic I mentioned in my last WIP post. But also like that post, that's not what I'm going to share, because it's not on my hit list for this year. Instead, I'm joining in with the CORB cheer by posting about, y'know, the one I started last year, good old Bait and Switch, because that's what I was getting all my words out for last weekend. Like, the next chapter is about 2 scenes away from done, when there had only been about 3 scenes in it when I started. So that's good?

Under the cut because this is already getting kinda long and I'm not stopping at six sentences.

I don’t know the answer to that. “Because I’m better than you. Now c’mon, get your head in the game. We have a plan.” “Do we?” “Here’s the plan. You give me a good zinger to make Simon go off—” “No.” “What?” “You think I can set him off with a zinger?” he audibly sneers. “This isn’t a one-liner trick. We build up to it.” “Fine,” I roll my eyes. “You long-con him, he goes off, I get my energy back. Easy-peasy.”  Baz is silent. Maybe being a dick and maybe asleep. I can never tell. Finally, he says, “And then you’ll let me out.” “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

The slightly difficult thing is that there's also rather a bit of angst being threaded through a fic that is at its core quite lighthearted, but I've received some comments in my time that suggest I may be good at writing things that make you laugh and then also hurt you in rapid succession, so hopefully I can pull it off without it feeling like we're switching genres.

Here's another that's a very little bit of both.

“I would not fucking say that!” Baz yelps. “Calm down,” I swat at him, but the tips of my fingers just slide through the edge of the coffin. I scowl at them. “I saw it in a film. It’s fine. It’s a totally normal thing to say.” “It’s not! It’s really, really not!” By the time he’s run out of steam screeching at me about it, I’m thinking there’s no way this ends up worth it. I don’t feel bad for doing it, but seriously, no one has ever yelled at me for this long. His voice is wearing down. Getting scratchier, which just makes him sound more violent, but then quieter. He ends by mumbling, “I hate you.” It hits weird. I mean, I don’t know. It just sounded sad. And it’s not true.  He doesn’t hate me. We’re helping each other.

Now, tags!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission

@mooncello @monbons @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife

@confused-bi-queer @iamamythologicalcreature @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @onepintobean @raenestee

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Five - Part 1

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: Hopper breaks into Hawkins Lab, while Nancy and Jonathan confront the forces that took Will and Steph. The boys, and even to their surprise, Steve, ask Mr. Clarke how to travel to another dimension; All while Stephanie frantically starts looking for Will after hearing his cries.

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

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 22,544 (In Total)

🎲Date: 7/31/24

🎲Warnings: Heavy Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Funerals; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Being Drugged; Brief Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; Suicidal Thoughts; Minor Blood; A Certain "Curse" Comes Into Play Early; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Overprotective Brother; The Harringtons' A+ Parenting; Steve's Emotional Damage & Signing Up To Be A Babysitter; Stephanie & Will Deserved All The Love, man. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Heads up, Readers! This document is split between two parts. For some reason Tumblr said I reach my 1,000 space limit, or something like that and wouldn't let me post it because it's so long. But at the very end of this part will be a spot you can click on for the next. Hopefully where I cut it off makes sense. Hope y'all in for a treat :) - And as you probably will notice when you're reading this, I left out Lonnie, Joyce's ex-husband. I left the scene out of chapter two where Jonathan goes to meet him and inform him that Will is missing. I felt like I really did need to write that, kind of like I don't feel like writing him in this chapter either. He doesn't exactly benefit this story, and this chapter/episode, is the last appearance of the character anyway, so... I just decided to just cut him, and replace his intense "dialogue" with a scene between Joyce and Jonathan. Hope you understand, and enjoy this chapter ❤️

Hopper wasn’t sure what he was even doing or thinking anymore. He got the answers he was looking for, but there were still some follow up questions about those answers that he needed to know. When the horrible, horrible thought crossed his mind about breaking into the morgue and seeing if the poor kids’ bodies were even real, he barely even hesitated. Why he didn’t hesitate kind of scared him. I mean, did deep down he know his doubts might be real?

So he swallowed and drove over to the place, still in his street clothes, hat discarded in his seat, and smelling like cigarettes and three hour old alcohol. He got out of his car, parking illegally, and was surprised to see the receptionist outside the door.

“Hey, Patty. Heading home?” He said, and she perks up upon seeing his face.

“Oh, Chief. Perfect timing. I was just debating if I should call you or not.” She says, confusing him.

“Is there a problem?”

“I…” She sighs. “I-I don’t know. About… ten minutes ago, I would say, a young lad came in and said his brother left something behind and wanted to retrieve it. I let him do it, but I noticed he hasn’t come back. And when I try calling out to the officer in the back I get no response. Frankly, I’m a little freaked out to investigate myself.”

A young lad? An officer? That’s weird. “Did you recognize this man? The one who came in?”

“I don’t recall seeing him this morning. Just Ms. Byers, her son and of course Ms. Henderson. But that’s all I’ve seen all day.” Patty explains before pointing in the distance. “I’m assuming that’s his car.”

Hopper follows her finger, a familiar black BMW was parked a few feet away. If it wasn’t for her pointing it out, he surely would have missed it since the area had poor lighting. It didn’t take him long to realize who’s car that was.

He puts on a front to calm her. “I’ll see what’s going on. Just wait right here. I’ll make it quick. ‘Kay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Chief.”

As soon as he’s inside, his hand is already on his holster. Judging by the car, he knew the Harrington kid was here, which he’s not exactly sure why; But to be honest, him being here was his least concern at the moment. He was more concerned about another officer being here. I mean, this was a morgue, people unfortunately die all the time, whether it was just natural or part of a crime; So it didn’t make any sense why the murders of two local kids would get special treatment.

His mind of course wanders back to the bar earlier where he had to beat the crap out of O’Bannon just to get some answers.

.

“Okay…” Hopper pins him to the wall. “Let’s try this one more time.” He grabs the man by the chin, squeezing. “Who told you to be out there? What were you doing out there?” He watched for an answer, and when he wasn’t getting any, he dialed back his fist.

“I don’t know!” David shouts. “I don’t know. They… they just told me to call it in and not let anybody get too close.

“Get close to what?!”

“The bodies.”

.

The bodies. Someone told him not to get close to the bodies. There was something about Will and Stephanie’s bodies that no one was supposed to get close to, and needed a cop to guard the morgue.

And I am a little afraid to find out why though. As Hopper got closer to the back, he immediately saw something that made him draw out his gun. The cop, whom he didn’t recognize at all, was lying unconscious on the floor (At least he hoped he was unconscious). He runs over quietly, and squats down to check for a pulse. Breathing. That’s good.

Now for the real question is… why was he unconscious? Was this the teenager’s doing? He frowns and pushes open the unlock door carefully, and steps inside. The cold temperature hits him hard but he doesn’t shiver; Maybe it was the adrenaline that was pumping in his veins, and pulled his heart to his feet. It was so eerily quiet, it was like straight out of a horror movie. He had half expected someone to come through the shadows with a knife. As he move inland more, he heard some shuffling and someone muttered, ‘What the fuck’, and then decided to push open the door to the fridge.

He must have startled the other party, which so happened to be the Harrington kid, brown eyes blown wide and (Oh, the irony) a knife pointed his way. They both stared at one another in silence, both surprised to find each other here…

Both surprised that they had the same idea/doubts.

Hopper’s eyes trailed past the boy’s shoulder, landing on the table where he could see the top of the dead girl’s head. What is he–

Then he stops himself when he notices something else. In the tips of Steve’s fingers, he sees a small ball of… cotton. Afraid, but he didn’t show it, he starts walking towards the table, lowering his weapon as Steve sidesteps to give him room – Hopper’s heart almost stops. He sees the incision immediately, and the white fluff pooling out of it. The two of their gazes meet, silence was enough to tell the adult everything. 

Deciding he needed to know more, he pulls the sheet back over the body and slides her back in before searching for another one. In the drawer below, he pulls out Will’s body and pulls the sheet back. It was still a sickening sight to see, despite knowing damn well it was a fake; But he still needed to know. Still not saying any words, Hopper holds his hand out and Steve gets the message and hands over his blade.

With no hesitation, Hopper digs into the realistic flesh, the flesh that was dry and had no prior incisions like it should have, and pulls out the same fluff like the last one. 

Oh, my God. His doubts were real. The bodies were fakes. But if that was the case, where were the children? Closing the blade and handing it back, Hopper grabs the teenager by the bicep and strings him along. “Come on.”

They leave in a hurry, only slowing their pace when they see Patty outside. Hopper puts on a cheeky smile, still holding onto Steve. “Dang, teenagers. Always wanting to do a good prank.” He chuckles. “Everything’s all good. Goodnight, Patty.”

“Uh…” She stares at him, slightly confused but still waves goodbye. “‘Night, Chief.” He drags the boy back to his car, glancing back to make sure she was inside before exploding. 

“Hey, listen–” Steve begins, as he tries to wiggle out of his hold.

“What did I say about forgetting our conversation at school?” Hopper snaps, and let’s go.

He scoffs and gives him a look. “How could I forget? Especially the way you reacted? How could I forget all that?”

“Listen, son, whatever this is–” The adult gestures around. “Is dangerous. Something’s going on, and it’s a dangerous slope.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know?” Now it was Hopper’s turn to scoff. “Then why the fuck are you running head first into this?”

“‘Cause I had doubts too. I thought about everything, and nothing’s adding up, Chief.” Steve explains, getting a groan from the man. “Nothing’s making sense. They said the two of them drowned in the Quarry, but I highly doubt that. But, who knows! Maybe they did get pushed towards the Quarry, but they also took a shotgun with them. If someone was chasing them to a cliff, why didn’t they use the gun? Why did they feel like they had to make their bodies fake? Were they actually taken and not lost? Or–”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Hopper says, holding his hand up. “I know you have questions, I get that, but you really need to stop and let me handle it.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not letting this go.”

“You should. Before you get hurt.”

“They stuffed my friend like she was a fucking stuffed animal!”

“I thought she wasn’t your friend anymore?” Hopper asked, and Steve shut his mouth and looked away. His face softens a tad. Just a tad. “Listen, something is definitely going on, that’s as clear as day. But when I poked around today, I noticed someone was following me, which means I’m getting close to something that I’m not supposed to.”

“That means you’re on the right track then.”

“Yes. But that’s a track that I don’t want you on.”

“Chief–”

“Steve.” Hopper steps closer, and grabs him by the shoulder. “I know this is an emotional time, but I need you to trust me, and let me do this. Please.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I can’t see another kid get hurt or die on me. So trust me, and stay away. Okay?”

Steve nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Good. Go home. Be safe. And please, do not do anything stupid.” He warns, because he’s about to do something stupid. But Jim Hopper doesn’t really know Steve Harrington all that well.

Because the teenager was already planning on doing something stupid too.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Besides the migraine, Stephanie wakes up to the sound of screaming. She shoots up from her sleeping form, big blue orbs blown wide and adrenaline starts to spike. Memories came in slowly, remembering the way her body basically gave her the finger and shut off on its own, falling into the deepest, but dreamless sleep. Her body felt colder than usual, and hugs herself for warmth.

What is… She winces at the pain in her temples spike, followed by a small drop of blood coming out of her nose. Slowly, she reaches up to touch, her fingertips stained red. She wonders if she hit her head too hard when she fell over. That could explain the headache, the nosebleed and the feeling of being in a fog. Hopefully she didn’t give herself a concussion. That’s the last thing she needs.

And that’s when she hears the scream again.

She felt a shiver, not from the cold, run down her spine immediately. She knows that scream so familiar now, it’s engraved in the back of her skull.

“Will.” She mutters, and looks around. Sure enough everything was here except for him. “Will?!” And then another scream, and Steph wastes no time to grab her pistol and bolt back towards the house. “WILL!!”

Completely scared – heart beating, head pounding, blood trickled down her chin – and the thought of not losing her footing was keeping her going. She doesn’t know why he was gone. Did he run off on his own? Did the monster get him? She’s not so sure, and she doesn’t care. She just needs to find him and make sure he’s safe. 

“Will!” She shouts again, completely obviously how short the run time was,  and rammed through the back door and–

Right back outside. 

She stumbled to the stop, and her eyes burned in the light, the buttercream sun and the sound of peace, and the feeling of warmth she hasn’t felt for days now. Confusion hits her now, and she suddenly finds herself on her very own lawn that was connected to her very own home. She blinks, and looks around, spinning on her heels like a twirl. Everything looked… normal. No weird snow-like substance falling from the sky, no darkness, no weird plants that pulsate, and drop temperatures close to zero. She was back home, and totally not in a scary place she’s been stuck in.

But how did I– How did I get back here? She touches her head, thinking. None of it made sense. She ran through Will’s back door and now she’s here? Back at her home? The normal version? This doesn’t–

Then, a car pulled into the driveway, making her breath get taken away. It was a 1960s station wagon, her Mom’s car, her Mom’s old car, The one that had gotten totaled in an accident years ago. 

She tilts her head, squinting like it would just change at any second. Why is it–

Then the front door opened in a flash with another shocking sight. Her grandmother, the one that passed away when she was just a kid, was standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her non-sickly face.

// Oh, baby, they’re here // She says, and that’s when she’s hit with another strike to the gut.

Stephanie watched as her barely five year old self shifted around her granny, practically bouncing down the steps towards the yellow car. Her mother gets out first, with a small bundle of cloth in her arms, which her younger self was giggling about.

// Stephanie, come meet your brother, Dustin // She said, with a smile that touched her eyes and soul.

Her younger self laughed as she showed her baby sibling. // Hi, Dustin //

Stephanie stared, the confusion intensifying by hundreds, no even sure what else to say except, “What the fuck…?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper manages to sneak through the door just as a scientist left for the night. He was out of his mind, he knows that for sure, especially since he decided to trespass into Hawkins Labs that seemed more guarded the last time he was here. He was also more out of his mind when he decided to head inside the place that was blocked off and had two large hazardous signs on the entrance. Well… what do they say?

You only live once.

The hallway was short lived, leading right up to a door that was of course locked, and unable to access it without a passkey.

“Shit.” He said, unaware of the two security guards rushing up behind him.

“Hands up!” They shouted, guns drawn. “Forgot all the cameras, bub?”

Hopper decided to play it cool, his face calm with a smile as he slowly turned around, hands in the air. “Look, Dr. Brenner asked for me specifically. Okay? How else do you think I got in here?”

One of the guards raised an eyebrow, using a free hand to reach for his walkie. “What’s your name again?”

“It’s Jim Hopper.” A little chuckle. “Chief Jim Hopper.”

He presses the button. “Yeah, I’ve got Jim Hopper–”

And the Chief landed a punch across his jaw, sending him to the floor and grabbing his gun. He immediately points it to the other party, and pins both his arms against the wall. The guy over the radio shouts what’s going on, but Hopper ignores it and takes the guard’s weapon away from him too.

“Hey…” His fingers latched around the badge. “You mind if I borrow this one?” 

He plucks it off and swipes the card, never taking his eyes on the conscious guard until the door shuts. As soon as he’s in the dark room, Hopper shoots a bullet through the card reader, trapping himself inside.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the boys were back at the Wheeler house, all lounging around in the basement, trying to process everything they heard on the radio.

“What was Will saying? Like home... but dark?” Mike said, pacing around, occasionally glancing at Eleven who was laying in a daze on his couch. He feels a bit bad that they might have pushed her too far tonight.

“And empty.” Lucas adds, face in his hands.

“Empty and cold.” Dustin says, sitting on the steps, a worried look on his face. “Wait, did he say cold? And who was he talking to?”

“Could have been your sister.” Mike suggested.

“No. He said my sister was passed out. There’s no way that was her.” Dustin groans. “That stupid radio kept going in and out.”

“Like home. Like his house?”

Lucas perks up with a snap of his fingers. “Or maybe like Hawkins.”

“Upside down.” El mutters from her spot on the couch.

“What’d she say?”

Mike was suddenly hit with realization and springs over to the table. “Upside down!”

“What?”

“Upside down.” He waves them over, and flips his upside down game board back over. “When El showed us where Will and Steph were, she flipped the board over, remember?” He flips it over again. “Upside down. Dark. Empty.”

“Do you understand what he’s talking about?” Lucas asked, meeting his other friend’s eyes.

“I’ll admit, I’m a little lost.” Dustin said, sheepishly. 

“Guys, come on, just think about it.” Mike pressures. “When El took us to find them, she took us to Will’s house, right?”

“Yeah. And they weren’t there.” Lucas points out.

“But what if they were there? What if we just couldn’t see them? What if they were on the other side? What if–” He flips the board back to its normal side. “This is Hawkins and–”  And then back to the blank side. “This is where they are? The Upside Down.”

Dustin gasps. “Like the Vale of Shadows.” It took his friends a moment to process the reality of this as he fished out his ‘unofficial’ D&D guidebook. He flips to the page he was talking about. “The Vale of Shadows is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you…” He locks fearful eyes with them. “Don’t even see it.”

“An alternate dimension.” Mike realizes, terrified as well. 

“But... how... how do we get there?” Lucas asked, worriedly.

“You cast Shadow Walk.” Dustin answers.

“In real life, dummy.”

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” His blue eyes trail to their sleepy friend. “Maybe she can.”

“Do you know how we get there?” Mike asks, hopefully. “To the Upside Down?”

Unfortunately for them…

She shook her head no.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Will?” Hopper frantically called out into the darkness, frantically scanning the area with his flashlight. “Stephanie?”

From what he can tell, this area mimicked a hospital. The white walls, colorless floors, the cold. I guess he should have suspected the rooms lined in the hallway to be filled with beds, but what he wasn’t expecting was the rooms to be catered with a few stuffed animals and security cameras in them. He also got a sudden wave of sickness when he saw a drawing done by a child on the wall, one that looked pretty recent.

What the hell? And that was his last thought before he could hear alarms blaring in the distance. He was honestly surprised they didn’t sound it sooner. So with a gun back in his hand, Hopper raced frantically down the rest of the halls, checking each room he could find.

“Will? Stephanie? Kids?” He shouts, and picks up speed. Come on. Where are they?

When he reaches the end of the hallway, he finds an elevator. A slight blessing in some way, but he also dreaded what else he might find. Are the kids really here? Or is he really following a thin thread? 

“I see him!” Someone shouts just as the door opens. “Hey! Stop!”

Hopper just gives them a sharp glare as the door seals him inside, heading down yet another level. When he did arrive, this floor was a lot creeper than the last. This time it did have lighting, except only every other light fixture ‘worked’ (It was more flickering on and off), and there was something floating in the air – a substance that looked like snow, but wasn’t. 

“Will? Stephanie?” He manages to yell before breaking into a coughing fit. “W-Will? St-Stephanie? Kids!” He continued to cough, covering his mouth with his elbow as he continued his trek. “What in the world?”

When he entered the room at the end of the hall, he saw something he cannot explain. Stretching along the back wall was a very disgusting looking plant; Black veins shot out like the spiderwebs that were hanging off of them, and the middle of it, the core, seemed to glow a red hue and it was… pulsating. In a strange case of curiosity, Hopper couldn’t help but reach out to touch the stickiness.

What is this thing? And that’s when he catches something moving in the corner of his eye. He whips around, gun out again and starts looking around worriedly. And just like a fucking horror flick, a man in a hazmat suit came right out of the darkness and straight towards him. 

“Hey!” He takes a step back as a warning. “Hey! Hey!”

And then out of the depth again, only this time he did not see, another masked up individuals come from behind–

And plunges a needle into his neck.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan was rushing home rather late. His little… “shopping trip” was cut short by none other than a schoolmate, Nancy Wheeler. Never in his sixteen years on the planet did he think he would get a visit from her – and over something so strange. But now, he was trying to get back home, to tell his mother that she wasn’t insane, that he finally understood what she was saying these past few days.

When he got home the first thing he noticed was there was a big gaping hole on the front of his house. Distressfully, he did his best to rush inside, finding his poor mother shivering with a conveniently placed axe by her feet. It didn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together.

“Mom, what happened?” He asked, and she didn’t even flinch – almost didn’t acknowledge he was even there. 

“Oh… hey, Jonathan.” She said, the exhaustion made her look ten times her age. “How was the shopping?”

“Forget shopping. Jesus, you’re freezing.” He replies, slugging his jacket off and placing it over her. “Just wait right here.”

It took a few minutes to retrieve a few things from the shed, but he managed to nail up a tarp to block the chilly November winds. Holding back the urge to shiver himself, he focuses his strength back onto his mother.

“Mom.” He begins, sitting down next to her (He even takes her cold hands into his own). “What happened?”

“Oh…” She shakes her head with a sniffle. “Nothing, sweety.”

“No, not nothing.” Guilt started to eat at him a bit (Why didn’t he believe his own mother in the first place?). “Why did you take the wall down?”

“Jonathan, it’s nothing–”

“Mom… that thing you saw before–” He swallows “Did it come back?”

She shakes her head again. “Who cares. Maybe it was all in my head after all.”

“No, it was not.” Jonathan reaches inside his jacket pocket, pulling a photo out. “The thing you saw, is this it?”

“Jonathan–”

“Mom, please. Just look.” He gives her a set of pleading eyes. “Please.”

It took a moment, but she did. It took another moment for her to process what she was looking at. And another for the realization to settle in. 

“W-Where did you get this?” Joyce gasps, and points at it.

Jonathan takes a second to think over his story. “Two days after Will and Stephanie disappeared, I decided to look in the area they vanished from. Somehow, I ended up at a house where one of my schoolmates was having a party; Nancy was there with her friend Barbara. Remember Barbara?”

“Yeah, I remember Barbara.”

“Well, you know she’s missing right?”

“I’ve heard. So you…” Joyce gives a look. “You saw her before she went missing?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “But before you scold me, I ended up taking pictures of the people at the party, one of them happened to be Barbara when she was alone at the pool.”

“Jonathan–”

“I know, I said wait… Please.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Continue.”

“Okay. So I snapped a picture, and as soon as I snapped it, she was gone.”

“Gone?” Her look intensifies. “What do you mean ‘Gone’?”

“It’s like she vanished out of thin air. I thought it was weird. Kind of freaked me out too, so I left.” He frowns, scared. Even when he found out what may have happened, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. “It wasn’t until earlier today that Nancy came up to me and asked to see my photos, from there she revealed she saw something at the house. A man with no face.”

Joyce covered her mouth with her hand, processing. “Oh, my god…”

“Mom, is this what you saw? Is this what came out of the wall the night before?”

She shakes her head eagerly. “Y-Yes. This is what I saw.” She replies, ending with a small sob. “I… I couldn’t hear them, y-your brother and Stephanie, but I just…” She touches her chest, her heart. “I-I just had this feeling that I knew they were there, right next to me and–” She sighs heavily, feeling like she’s losing her mind again.

Jonathan starts rubbing soothing circles on her back, still holding one of her hands. “It’s okay. Take your time. Just… walk me through everything. Please.”

Another sigh, but this time it was for her to steady herself. “Okay. I… started hanging lights, ‘cause when I-I was in the store I felt their presence, the lights on the aisle flickered, so I thought maybe I can get some reaction here. It took a few hours and I did. I said, one blink for ‘Yes’, two blinks for ‘No’. But–” She bites her lips. “It wasn’t giving me the questions I needed, so I painted the wall.”

“The alphabet wall?” He asked, gesturing behind them with his head.

“Y-Yeah.”

“What did you ask them? What did they say?”

“I… I-I really could only get one answer. I asked them, ‘Where are they?’. Then, they gave me a strange response.”

“Which was?”

“‘Right here’.” She points to the floor. “They said, ‘Right here’.” She frowns. “I… I tried asking what that means, but then they told me to ‘Run’. And that’s when that… th-that thing came out of the wall.”

“It came out of the wall, okay. Um–” His eyes glance over to the tarp. “Is that why you took the axe to the wall? Were… were you trying to see if it was in there?”

“No.” Another shake of her head. “I heard him. I heard Will a few hours ago, so I… I peeled back the wallpaper, and… there was this– this bubble type thing inside, and… a-and I could see him, hear him. He was talking, and he was scared. I asked him where he was, and he told me he was here, but it was dark and cold. And… s-something was coming for him, so I told him to run, and…”

“You took down the wall to see if he was there?”

She nods. “Y-Yes.”

“Okay.” He says, nodding to. He was trying to process this. “Okay. Okay. Okay. Um… shit.” He starts rubbing the side of his head. “I… I don’t have an answer for this.”

Joyce laughs quietly. “Yeah, neither do I.” She sighs. “I don’t know… I do know what to do. All I can do is communicate when I can get a hold of him.”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “I guess…”

Suddenly, the lights flickered for a few seconds, and the boombox flipped on. 

.

[ ♪ –or should I go?

If you say that you are mine

I’ll be here ‘till the end of time

So you got to let me know

Should I stay or should I go? ♪ ] 

.

Jonathan had jumped to his feet when it turned on, and got all defensive. “What the–”

“See?” Joyce said, touching her son’s arm to get him to calm down. “Your brother is here.”

The eldest stared at the box, imagining his little brother laying on the floor with his legs in the air, and adding color to a drawing he’d finished. He felt a bit relieved that his brother was still “around”; But it also made him feel terrible, because…

.

.

.

He has no idea how to get Will back to them.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will will admit… that this did not go as he planned or at least hoped it would have. He actually got through to his mother, he actually got to see his mother. Even if it wasn’t the clearest image, he could tell it was her. He wonders when the beast crawled out of the wall earlier it must have left behind some kind of doorway to the other side. The sucky part was, no matter how hard he pushed on that… disgusting bubble it wouldn’t budge. All he could do was explain where he was to her and hoping she understood before the faceless beast returned to hunt.

But Will wasn’t shaking this thing off. This thing seemed to be mad, a bit pissed off with the way the movements were, frustrated even as it let out a few growls and huffs of air. He tried to make a few runs for the door, but everytime it kept lunging and throwing him off track. He felt his heart pounding in his ears as he trips on something, losing the shotgun and literally crawling across the hallway to get away. 

He finds himself on the verge of tears at this point, wondering if this is how his life will end: By dying by a literal monster on his big brother’s bedroom floor. 

Will starts pleading quietly, the beast’s meaty hand reaching out towards him, and at the last minute, Will moves out of the way. The beast ran into Jonathan’s desk  before rerouting and stalking over his prey again. Will curls up into a ball in the corner, muttering ‘I’m sorry’ to everyone he knows…

Then his brother’s boombox fell, turning it right on, and causing the lights to start flickering like a rave. 

.

[ ♪ –or should I go? ♪ ]

.

The beast flitched hard, almost like it was hurt by the vocals coming out of the box. It made a distressful sound, Will uncurling himself to watch this turn of events unfold. 

.

[ ♪ If you say that you are mine

I’ll be here ‘till the end of time

So you got to let me know

Should I stay or should I go? ♪ ]

.

The thing lets out a shriek and starts jerking its head around, before calling it quits. It practically threw its body out the room, running frantically around the house until it finally got out and disappeared. Will followed carefully, poking his head down the hallway where he was met with silence again. The beast was gone. Like… actually gone. Scared away by The Clash? It almost seemed too good to be true.

.

[ ♪ It’s always tease, tease, tease

You’re happy when I’m on my knees

One day it’s fine and next it’s black

So if you want me– ♪ ] 

.

He comes over and shuts the boombox off with a small smile, and gets an idea. Rummaging around the filth, he started stuffing some cassettes into his coat pockets until they were full before shifting over to pick up the boombox until he remembered something. A boombox is a bit hefty to be lugging around, and what if it gets to be too much and then they have to ditch it? Then what? What could they use? That’s when he remembers his brother had a walkman lying around somewhere. He eventually finds it, and starts making his way back to Stephanie. 

Will did his best to carry everything in his tiny grip, still a little scared that the beast might make an appearance again (It’s not like he could whip out his gun quick enough ‘cause his hands are full), but now he knew it’s weakness. Who knew it was something so silly like music?

Maybe… this could be our way out? He wonders about that, and he also wonders about the way he communicated with his mom earlier. If the beast could travel to both worlds, could it also be their key to getting out of here? Could there be another gate somewhere? It was questions like these that were going to be hard to answer. Hawkins was so big, how long would it take them to search every nook and cranny for a gateway home?

This is something I got to run by Stephanie. Speaking of… When he got closer to where they settled down, he noticed she was actually awake; Sitting on her knees in the grass, looking like she hadn’t noticed his presence yet.

So, she is awake. Weird. I thought she would have run after me when reading the note I left her. But he shrugs it off. Maybe she was more understanding than he thought. With a huge smile on his face, he picks up his pace to tell her the good news.

“Hey, Steph. Before you get mad, I found a way to protect ourselves.” He explains, setting the items down next to her. “When I accidentally turned on the boombox, the monster got all frightened and ran off. I know that sounds weird, but it works! We can roam freely just by playing a song! Isn’t that crazy?”

He was expecting a scolding, maybe even a laugh, or a look of disbelief, but he certainly didn’t think she wouldn’t say anything. He doesn’t recall her being the type of person to give the silent treatment if mad. Will repeated the last sentence to see if he would get something, and that’s when he finally noticed something odd. The girl wasn’t… moving. She was just sitting there on her knees, slightly hunched over, looking like a statue.

He’s not going to lie, it was kind of freaking him out. “Stephanie?” He slowly crouches down in front of her, and brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and nearly falls back.

To his shock he finds her looking paler than the last few days, and her eyes were bloodshot red and dry, but that wasn’t what was scaring him. What was scaring him was the fact that her blue eyes looked unnatural, and that her pupils had completely disappeared from sight. To him, she looked like she was possessed. 

Will finds himself growing pale himself, completely scared of what’s happening to his friend. “Stephanie?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie couldn’t help but follow them inside. Her grandmother was saying to Claudia all kinds of loving things, as her younger self wouldn’t stop expressing how much she wanted to hold her baby brother. It all seems so surreal, it felt like it happened only yesterday, but it was in fact twelve years ago. 

She runs up the stairs and through the door, as soon as she does, the memory changes. The three of them vanished, and the house looks like it was spruced up more in this scene change. Now, she sees her younger self was a little bit older, Dustin was too, and they both were sitting on the floor in the living room, playing a game on their Atari. 

// You’re cheating // Her brother pouts as soon as the score on pong changes to double digits.

She snorts. // How am I cheating? It only has one control //

// Still cheating //

// Dustin… //

Stephanie smiles at the antics. This was pretty much the same conversation every time they played a video game of some sort. It makes her laugh and feel good every time she thinks about it. But this still doesn’t explain what’s going on.

// Ugh, this doesn’t make any sense! // Dustin, a different version, yells from the dining room table. His head lays across one of his books as his big sister looks over it, perplexed. 

// I don’t remember learning any of this // She mumbles, scratching her head. 

// I’m going to fail… //

// You’re not going to fail //

// I’m totally going to fail //

The oldest shakes her head at his antics. She remembers this too, and despite the hardship of it, he still passed with a B. It’s still better than nothing.

She then nearly jumps out of her shoes when she swears something exploded in her kitchen. She rushes over, finding herself again standing off to the side in disbelief. That’s when she saw her brother standing tall and proud with batter all over his face. 

// Pancakes are done // He said, oblivious to her shock. 

She rubs her face, cringing at the time Dustin tried to make breakfast on his own which was a complete disaster. How he managed to burn and undercook everything was beyond her knowledge. Oh, Dusty.

Then, she perks up again when her little bro is replaced by her mother. Her hair is tied back, and she’s wearing her kiss the cook apron. “Mom?”

// Hey, Ms. Henderson? //

Stephanie gasps quietly and spares a glance to the side where the entrance to the basement was. Just like she thought, she finds herself staring at a young Steve Harrington, probably about eight years old.

“Steve?” She said, taking him in. A little stripe button up shirt, shorts and small bandage on his cheek; He was also flashing a grin with a couple baby teeth missing.

// Yes, Steve? // Claudia said, not taking her eyes off the stove.

// Can we eat downstairs? Fia and I are almost done with our game //

Fia. Her heart clenched at the nickname she hasn’t heard in such a long time. I kind of… miss it. 

I mean, her brother calls her Phanie which was special to her, but that was something only he ever called her. And Steph was just a common nickname to call all ‘Stephanies’. However, Steve’s little nickname for her was really unique and special to her.

Apparently it was still special to her.

Some more was said but she didn’t listen, and before she knew it, little Steve was running back down the stairs. 

“Hey!” She shouts and chases after him. As soon as she gets off the last step she finds herself somewhere different again. She was met with a few flashing strobe lights, loud music and lots of laughter. She recognizes this place rather quickly, it was the roller rink they built in the mall a few years back.

// Steve! Stop! // Her preteen self yells, looking like a newborn colt on rollerblades. She was hanging onto dear life to her best friend who could not stop laughing at her over reaction. 

// You know you’re going to have let go soon // Steve says, as she shakes her head.

// Nope. No way. I don’t want to fall again //

// Falling comes with the practice, you know //

She sends him a look. // Easy for you to say. You haven’t fallen once! //

// What can I say? // He starts slowly pushing her away, only holding onto her hands for support. // I’m just a natural //

// Steve! Please! // She said, a mixture of panic and laughter. // Come on! //

He hums, acting like he was thinking before he lets go of one of her hands. // Oops //

// Steve! // She warns, and slouches a bit to keep herself small so she doesn’t slip.

// Relax, Fia. I wasn’t going to let you go // He replies, truthfully, warmly. // I’ll hold your hand until you’re confident enough. Okay? //

// You better, Harrington //

// I will. Relax. Here // He pulls her back, waiting for her to steady herself again before explaining. // This is what you have to do. First– //

Stephanie couldn’t help but smile. She loves that memory so much. It was so perfect in her eyes. The all American boy was the most elegant roller skater she’s ever seen, and he was so dorky and teasing, but patient while teaching her the ropes. She wishes sometimes she could go back to this day over and over again. I miss this so much. 

.

.

“Little Stevie here can’t protect you any more.”

.

.

And just like that, the scene changes again, only this time it feels more heavy and darker – like it was sucking the soul out of her. She felt so scared all of a sudden, and when she blinked she was sitting at a bar top. The smell of booze, money and cigarettes nearly knocked her over… and sent a chill through her body.

N-No. This was a painful memory she was trying to forget. What was she doing here? What was the point of–

“Are you not having fun, Munchkin?”

Now that voice almost made her die on the spot. Terrified, she slowly turns to her left, finding the only other person inside the place. He was rather tall, 

A bit lanky but built, dark hair and blue eyes. The genes that ran so strong in this family, the genes that her and Dustin hated they both had. And he’s sitting there with a stupid smirk on his bearded face, one that makes her want to crawl into a hole or slap off. She almost couldn’t speak as she felt like she lost her voice.

.

.

.

“D-Dad?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan’s bitter thoughts were pulled back into reality the early next morning by his own mother, who was helping him with his tie.

“Why are we sending daggers at our home phone?” Joyce asked, heavy makeup covering her exhaustion, a black jacket clings to her body that acted like her blouse. 

His gaze follows back to the phone before back to her. “I know we agreed not to talk to him at all, besides it being pointless because Will’s body is a fake, but still. He can’t even give us a call about his own son’s death?”

She finishes his tie, frowning out of sadness with a hint of hate for her ex-husband. “Well, another reason why I’m not with your father. This should be a lesson to you, don’t just settle for the first person that gives you attention, or makes your rebellious phase feel ‘special’. I know I’m not the best mother–”

“You’re the perfect mother.” Jonathan pushes, wholeheartedly. “I know it was hard, but for someone doing it on your own, you always made time for us, loved us, and did only what you thought was best. A thousand times more than whatever dad did. I just…” He gets a bit teary eyed. “I just wished I believed you in the beginning. Maybe things would have been different.”

Joyce chokes down her own sob. “Oh.” She brushes a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re going to make me bawl.”

He quietly laughs. “Sorry.”

“And you know, I’m not upset that you didn’t believe me. I never was, and never will be. I am glad that you came around though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Jonathan?”

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t… don’t do anything stupid, okay? We’re going to go to the funeral, act like we’re in mourning, and when everything is over, we’re going to figure this out. We’re going to figure out what really happened with you brother. Okay?”

He puts on a good smile and nods. “Okay.” Jonathan agrees with a heavy feeling. He knows he agrees, but deep down he’s not. He’ll pretend to grieve, pretend that he mourns his not-so-dead brother, he’ll pretend that he’s not going to do anything with going through his mom first. In reality, it’s the opposite. 

In reality, he’s about to do the stupidest thing in probably his entire life. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Claudia Henderson had to fix her make up for the fifth time already, and she hasn’t even left the house, almost too scared to even leave the door. She was sitting on the couch, a ball tissues in one hand and her baby’s photograph in another. She was shaking all over, trying to hold down more sobs. Her son eventually appeared, dressed in black, pretty curls brushed back neatly, and had a glass of water in his palm.

She looks up, watching him silently offering it. “Oh, thank you, honey.” She replies, gesturing for him to set it down. He does, and scoots next to her. 

Dustin can’t stand that his mom is this way, and half of him wants to blurt out that something about his sister’s and Will’s disappearance doesn’t seem right, and the bodies in the caskets had to be fakes, but he can’t. He can’t go off a theory that has barely any evidence still.

“Oh… look at her face. I’m going to miss her pretty face.” Claudia continues, touching the picture. “Her little curls, her freckles, her… beautiful blue eyes, those…”

Dustin’s heart clenched. “Dad’s eyes…”

“Oh, not him. Not his.” She shakes her head, batting her honey brown orbs. “No. You and your sister’s are so unique.” She reaches up to cup her son’s cheek, him leaning into the touch. “Hers is like a sky and sapphire, and yours is like this cross of sky, this pale blue and, uh…”

He gives her a goofy smile. “A light denim jean.”

That got her to laugh. “A light denim jean, yes. That’s… that’s perfect.” She then pulls him into a hug. “It’s going to be hard, but we’re going to get through this. Together.”

Suddenly Dustin felt the wind get knocked out of him. What if… what if he and his friends were actually wrong? What if they were just imagining everything? What if his big sister was actually dead? 

What if… she really is gone? He couldn’t stop himself from tearing up, a single stray rolling down his cheeks, clenching his sister’s necklace in the palm of his hand like it would make her appear in his arms.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Now you know who wasn’t ready for the funeral? I mean how could he when he just woke up in a cold sweat and a dazed look in his eye. Jim Hopper finds himself on his couch, still wearing the same clothes (minus the jacket) that he seemed to have sweated through most of the thin material. It didn’t take long for him to remember what happened last night and immediately bolted up. He takes in his coffee table, which to him seemed way messier than he left it (Plus, there were a lot more empty beer cans than he consumed over the few days).

Grabbing his gun that was right in front of, Hopper wastes no time to run outside with it held high. But as he searched the land that he was all alone on, he didn’t see anything or anyone out of the ordinary. He almost started to doubt that last night even occurred. 

Almost. That’s the keyword.

Coming back inside, he examines himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to find the needle marking in his neck. It took a hot minute, the doubt was coming back until his finger picked up the tiniest drop of blood. Now, the paranoia was setting in, and that’s when he started tearing his trailer apart. Anything he could get his hands on, pictures frames, light bulbs, home phones, stereo system, VHS player, cookie jars, anything was torn apart in his hands. He even went so far by cutting open his couch cushions with a knife. 

In a hot, sweating, panting mess, he was about to give up until he noticed he forgot to check his overhead light. Just tall enough to reach it on his own, Hopper carefully unscrews the fixture and that’s when he saw it.

The bug. 

Plucking it off so hard that the wires ripped, he examined it close, the disbelief came first, and ended with sheer anger.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

I guess you could say that Steve “snuck out” of his home, dressed appropriately in black attire, still thinking about what his next “detective” move could be. The funerals were being held together to make it emotionally easier for the families, and everyone in town was welcome to come. His parents wouldn’t have approved, anyone associated with them wouldn’t either, but I guess the “good” thing about coming to the graveyard is that he wouldn’t have to worry about any of them. The only person he knows that will be there is his girlfriend. Speaking of…

Nancy was quick to notice after getting out of the car herself with her family. She was honestly surprised a bit, but didn’t let that weigh her down as she excuses herself to come over.

“Steve?” She said, as he flicked her a sad smile. “How… how are you?”

“I’m… I’m good. Really, um–” He replies, fiddling with his hands. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good. How’s your brother doing?”

“Mike?” She takes a quick glance back his way. “He’s coping, I guess. I don’t know. He’s been really quiet.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Steve says, nodding slowly. “Listen, Nance, I wanted to apologize for how I reacted the other night.”

Nancy shakes her head. “Steve, it’s alright. I get it. You’ll tell me about the relationship with your parents eventually. I honestly really don’t care if you do or not. It’s not my business.”

“I know, but still. I got a little snappy and–”

“Steve, it’s fine. I get–”

“My parents don’t like her.” He blurts out, silencing her. He watches her tilt her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “My parents never… approved of my friendship with Stephanie. She wasn’t up to their… ‘standards’. So…” He sighs. “My parents are probably going to gut me when they find out I’m here.”

“Gut you?” She asked, worriedly. Was it really that bad for him to be here? “Friends or not, she still was a classmate, the least you can do is show up for a quick respect.”

“Yeah, they don’t see it like that. They…” His throat felt dry. Every time he starts remembering a few things about his past, his parents, he just feels like he’s going to shut down and hide. 

“Steve?” Nancy says, pulling him out of the rut. “They… what?” She needs to know more, she wants to know more. She didn’t like that he looked like a kicked puppy. What has his parents done to him?

“She wasn’t like Tommy or Carol, or even you. Steph was sweet and caring, but didn’t dress like a girl should, she didn’t talk like a girl should, she didn’t…” He laughs, a mixture of nerves and distaste towards his parents. “She likes heavy metal, she likes to wear black and stomp around in big combat boots, and she would always do the craziest shit I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t the girl my parents wanted me to hang out with because she wasn’t a ‘girly-girl’. She fits in with the school’s ‘freaks’.”

“Steve…”

“Sometimes… I miss it. I miss going behind my parents’ backs to hang out with her.” He says, sadly. “But I… I had to end it… for her sake.”

Well that’s news. She thought, piqued. “What do you mean by that?”

“I–” His attention was caught by someone else arriving. “I… I’m going to go pay my respects. I’ll catch up to you later, Nance.”

“‘Kay.” She mumbles, watching him leave with a heavy heart.

Steve makes his way over to the family he used to call his own; The mother gets out, in her own head, while the brother immediately stops in his tracks – looking like a deer in headlights upon seeing him. 

“Ms. Henderson.” He begins, getting her attention (His throat felt tight again and his chest felt like it was being kicked in). “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Steve?” It takes Claudia a moment to recognize him. “Steve! Oh, my gosh, I do remember you.” She smiles. “You’ve grown quite into a young man.”

Steve blushes a bit. “Uh, thank you. Um, listen I… I know your daughter and I had a bit of a falling out, but I thought it would be alright if I gave you my condolences. If you… approve that of course.”

“Oh, honey, I appreciate it. Friendships, I know, tend to end sometimes, and it can be hard. But I really do appreciate you coming.”

‘That’s good to hear.” He clears his throat and takes a step back. “I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, why don’t you stay?” She said, with her son perking up at the news.

“What?” Dustin said, a bit sharp for his mother’s liking.

“Dustin.” She turned and scolded. Her son gave her a shrug of disbelief, making her sigh. “Sorry. Do you mind staying for the wake? I think it would be nice if we can catch up.”

Steve was honestly lost for words. He’s guessing that Stephanie never actually told them what occurred… at least she didn’t tell her mother the truth. His gaze falls on Dustin who was pouting a bit and looking at the ground; The bitterness he probably had makes Steve wonder if he knew the truth. It was making him feel pretty shitty right now.

Jesus. If his mom wasn’t here I’m sure he would deck me by now. But Steve ignores this and just smiles. “If you insist, Ms. Henderson.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan, or course, ignores his mom’s pleas not to do something stupid. Him and Nancy had both stepped off to the side to discuss their findings, hoping to form some kind of plan of action. “This is where we know for sure it’s been, right?” He says, holding a small map of the area, some places marked with a red X.

Nancy leans in closer. “So, that’s…”

“Steve’s house.” He starts pointing out each mark and their meaning. “And that’s the woods where they found Steph’s car, and that’s my house.”

“It’s all so close.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s... it’s not traveling far.”

Nancy locks eyes with him, realizing what he was suggesting. “You want to go out there.”

“We might not find anything.” He admits with a shrug.

“I found something. And if we do see it… then what?”

He inhales. “We kill it.”

“Kill it?” She said, surprised. “Are you serious?”

“What? You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got.”

She shakes her head. “Jonathan–”

“What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.” He points out as she frowns.

“Your mom believed you.”

He averts his eyes from her. “She’s been through enough. It’s time for me to worry about this thing.”

“She deserves to know.”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her when this thing is dead.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was leaning against the wall next to a table full of snacks and drinks, ruefully chewing on some knock off brand cookies. His daggers were set on Steve who was chatting with his mom for most of the wake now. He still can’t believe he even showed up, the same boy who broke his sister’s heart and reverted her back into a bit of a hermit. Now, he loves his sister, his friends do too (probably as much as he does), but he kind of felt sad that after being disowned by Steve she decided to hang out with them more. Times at the arcade she was always driving them; The past few Halloweens she’s been stuck with them; A few times a week at school they would sneak outside for lunch and have it together. It was sad that no one else wanted to hang out with his sister, and it made him mad in more ways than one because of it. 

Stupid ass people. He thought, taking another harsh bit out of the food.

“Uh, Dustin–” Lucas says, nudging him a bit. “Maybe try to be a little more subtle on the lasers you’re shooting out at Steve.”

Dustin doesn’t answer his question, instead replying with, “These aren’t real Nilla Wafers.”

“Alright enough about him for a moment.” Mike interrupts, and tries to be the reasonable one. “How do we do this?”

“Do what?” Dustin mumbled, turning and taking another handful of cookies, making his friend sigh.

As the boys were distracted a bit, Steve had finally finished the nice chat with Claudia. He almost forgot how sweet she was, and how he remembers he wishes his own mother was like that. It could explain why he was always over at Stephanie’s house when he was young (he kind of misses it). He excused himself for something to drink, only to accidentally wander into another conversation that couldn’t help but hearing. 

Mike sighs. “Mr. Clarke. We were going to ask him our questions about another dimension.” 

“Oh, right. Another dimension.” Dustin says, nonchalantly, his friends looking at each other with confusion. 

“What’s your deal, man?” Lucas asked, confused on the sudden attitude change (and both him and Mike know it’s not about Steve). 

“My deal is what if I’m actually wrong? What if they really are dead?” 

Lucas made a look. “Dude, I’m supposed to be the skeptical one here. And besides, you’re the one who told us about hearing Will over the radio.”

“This funeral must be messing with your head.” Mike points out. “Will and Steph are alive. Where they are, we don’t know. But we aren’t going to know if we don’t ask Mr. Clarke about dimensional travel.”

“Yeah, man. Don’t be so down yet.” Lucas pats him on the back, before pointing out something. “Look. There he is.”

The Wheeler boy makes the first move, looking a bit sluggish to suggest he was sad. “Mr. Clarke?” 

“Oh, hey there.” He says, sending them a bittersweet smile. “How are you boys holding up?”

“We’re in... mourning.” Lucas replies, pretending to be glum too.

“We were wondering if you had time to talk?” Mike asks, nervously.

“We have some questions.”

“A lot of questions.” Steve says out of the blue, shocking the kids who were not expecting this. As the kids looked like they were fishes out of water, Mr. Clarke was overjoyed to see him.

“Ah, Steven. I haven’t seen you in a while. My, you’ve grown to be quite the stud.” He replies, his ex-student bowing with excitement. 

“You flatter me. Uh… the boys here were sharing a few things with me that I couldn’t really answer.” Steve points out, still having no idea where this was going and hopes he doesn’t screw it up. “But uh, hey! I always remember you were a man of answers.”

That seemed to fuel the adult’s ego a bit and got him more excited. “Oh, well, I can certainly try. Uh–” He gestures to an open table. “Let’s talk.”

Mike sits and is the first to speak, “So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions? Like, beyond our world?”

“Yeah, sure. Theoretically.”

“Right, theoretically.”

“So, theoretically, how do we travel there?” Lucas asks, getting right into it.

“Ah.” Mr. Clarke nods. “You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett’s Many-Worlds Interpretation, haven’t you?” 

The boys subtly glanced at each other, having no clue who he was talking about; Even Steve was trying to remember if he ever learned this when was young. But they shook their heads ‘Yes’, and went along with it. 

“Well, basically, there are parallel universes.” The teacher begins. “Just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there’s a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened.”

“Yeah, that’s not what they’re talking about.” Steve blurts out, before realizing he spoke. “Right?”

“Y-Yep!” Mike said, nodding eagerly. 

“We were thinking of more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows.” Dustin replies, the anger disappearing for now. “You know the Vale of Shadows?”

Mr. Clarke’s face lights up a bit. “An echo of the Material Plane, where necrotic and shadow magic—”

“Yeah, exactly.” Mike butts in, quickly. “If that did exist, a place like the Vale of Shadows, how would we travel there?”

“Theoretically.” Lucas adds.

Mr. Clarke’s gaze locks with Steve’s, who just shrugs. “Hey, I told you I couldn’t answer their questions.” He says, rendering everyone silence.

The teacher took a moment to think this over. “Well…” He picks up an empty paper plate and takes out a pen, drawing two lines and a tiny stick figure on top of it. “Picture... an acrobat… standing on a tightrope.” He shows off his drawing to everyone, before holding in a position where everyone could see.

He continues, “Now, the tightrope is our dimension. And our dimension has rules. You can move forwards, or backwards.” He drew an arrow on each side of the figure. “But, what if… right next to our acrobat, there is a flea?” He draws a tiny insect next to it. “Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?”

“Right.” They boys said, intrigued. 

“Here’s where things get really interesting. The flea can also travel this way…” He draws an arrow between the two lines. “Along the side of the rope. He can even go…” And another below it. “Underneath the rope.”

“Upside down.” The boys said, in unison (Steve just flashed them a confused look).

“Exactly.”

“But we’re not the flea, we’re the acrobat.” Mike asked, everything clicking in place. 

“In this metaphor, yes, we’re the acrobat.” 

“So we can’t go upside down?” Lucas asked, an undertone of concern.

“No.”

“Well, is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?” Dustin asked, hopefully.

“Well…” Mr. Clarke jogs his brain. “You’d have to create a massive amount of energy. More than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you, to open up some kind of tear in time and space, and then…” He folds the plate in half, and aggressively pokes his pen through it. “You create a doorway.”

“Like a gate?”

“Sure. Like a gate. But again, this is all–”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, almost rolling his eyes at how many times this word was repeated.

“But…” Mike shifts in his seat, another question lingering around. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did, I... I think we’d know. It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole. Science is neat. But I’m afraid it’s not very forgiving.”

The boys were left awestruck, all three of them looking at each other and agreed on something in silence.

“Wow, uh… thanks, Mr. Clarke.” Mike replies, standing up. “You, uh, really answered our questions.”

“Any time. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asked, as they shook their heads.

“Uh, nope! W-We’re good. We’re, uh…”

“We’re off to grieve some more.” Dustin said, his friends agreeing.

“Yep. Thanks again, Mr. Clarke. See you at school.”

“Uh–” He watches his students leave, a little thrown off by the mood swings. “See you around.”

“I… better see what’s up with them.” Steve replies, taking a stand too. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too.”

Steve quickened his pace to catch up with the group that was now outside, a small part of him can’t believe what he’s about to do or say. “I didn’t know you guys felt the same way.”

“Why are you following us?” Mike asked, stopping with annoyance all over his face.

“Look, I didn’t mean to bud in, but it just so happens that you guys feel the same way I do about this situation surrounding Stephanie and Will.”

Lucas rolls his eyes for real this time. “Ignore him. He probably just feels bad.” He says, and they started walking away, wanting some time alone to think their plan over.

“No, guys, come on. Listen to me.” 

“Stop following us, man.”

“Guys, just a moment of your time–”

“Leave us alone.” Mike snaps harshly. 

Steve sighs heavily, the debating he felt was necessary was suddenly over and he finally lets it out. “Her body’s fake!”

And like pressing pause on a TV, the boys immediately stopped. It took them a moment, a solid moment to process what he’d just said before turning around and staring like he was crazy.

Dustin was the first one to speak, the fierceness he spoke with earlier had returned with a hint of disbelief. “What?”

Well there’s no backing down now. Steve thought, and went along with the punches. “I went to the morgue last night, with the Police Chief. Your sister’s and Will’s bodies are fake. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever happened to them, someone doesn’t want people to know how, what or why.”

“You went to the morgue?” Lucas said, after another moment, to process what he just admitted.

“With the Police Chief?” Mike adds.

Dustin shakes his head, not sure how he feels about this. “H-How do I know you’re not lying? You’re the reason my sister was in a rut that whole school year.”

Steve frowns, apologetically. “Listen, I’ll admit I was an asshole, but despite that, I would never, ever lie about something like this. Even if someone I didn’t know, I would never snoop that low. And…” He shifts his weight around. “And if you don’t believe me, you can call the Chief yourself. Although, he’d probably be pretty mad because he told me to forget about what I saw. So…”

Forget being gutted by my parents later, he would definitely kill me on sight if he knew about this. Steve waits anxiously as the boys look at each other, mutely communicating like they were doing earlier. 

Lucas looks between them and shrugs (Even Mike does too, as Dustin looks a bit on edge still). “I think he’s telling the truth, man.”

“If he is, why bother?” Dustin asks, looking over at the teenager. “Your friendship’s been long gone with my sister.”

“Yeah, it has.” Steve admits, heart clenching again. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I know her, and when I found out the official ruling for her death, I knew something felt off.” His frown deepens. “I was going to do a little investigation on my own, until I overheard you boys talking about how you don’t buy any of this bullshit either.”

Although I’m still a little confused on the whole other dimension thing. But he kept his mouth shut for now as the boys looked at each other again.

“Can you excuse us for a second?” Mike said, turning around and pulling his friends into a huddle. “Listen–”

“No way.” Dustin says, putting his foot down.

Lucas sighs. “Dustin, look, I understand the hate for this guy, but either way, if we take him in or not, he’s going to be snooping around too. You know, you can’t beat ‘em, you join ‘em, right?”

“Plus, he is older, and he can get away with a lot more shit when things get tough for us.” Mike points out, and they all looked back at him for a second. “Come on, man. The more the merrier, you know?”

Lucas and Mike plead with Dustin with just a look, and soon he caves in.

“Fine.” He says, arms crossed. “But the moment he disrespects my sister, he’s out.” 

“Agreed.” Lucas said, and they disassembled.

“Hey, Steve?” Mike said, getting his attention. “You think you can come over to my house afterwards?”

-To Be Continued-

Read Part 2: Here

~

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[anim-ttrpgs]

A new video about Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy!

Curtesy of @talenlee!

This video isn’t so much a review of Eureka’s mechanics as it is an overview and analysis of some of Eureka’s goals, such as how Eureka differs from many other RPGs in that it isn’t just a story about detectives solving a mystery, it’s a story about detectives confronting the unique challenge of solving a mystery which has a set solution. The culprit doesn’t change in reaction to who the players thing it is, which goes against a lot of conventional GMing advice.

Which brings us to a related point he made, which is that the default state of a Eureka mystery is “failed,” and that is very much true. If the PCs simply do nothing and wait for the solution to fall into their lap, they will fail, every time. The party must take initiative and work to overcome this puzzle, and how the characters and players react to the challenge of overcoming this puzzle is something Eureka is there to study.

Also, he likes the Wealth mechanic.

To turn this post into something additive that creates an actual discussion, however, we’d like to address one of @talenlee's criticisms of Eureka. Namely, that character creation is the second chapter, while most of the core rules are the first chapter.

@talenlee argues that character creation rules should come as early as possible in a rulebook, which helps a reader get hooked in, because it puts all the rules that come after in the context of “this is what your character can do.” You can watch the video above, and some of his other videos, for a better and deeper explanation.

That may be true for some people, but we argue that putting the character creation rules after the core rules leads to a smoother gameplay and character creation experience, which is why we structured the book the way we did.

Even though character creation in Eureka has been praised quite a lot for being very easy, there are quite a lot of choices to be made, all of which are very impactful. There is almost zero randomization as well, meaning every choice in character creation is one that you must manually make yourself.

But an uninformed decision is not a decision at all. Anyone who has played an old CRPG from the 90s will know what I’m talking about. Those are famous for giving you detailed character creation right there in the first 2 minutes after you launch the game, before you know how to play or really what any of the numbers mean. It will say things like “Strength dictates how much damage you do with melee weapons, how much inventory you can carry, and how much heavy armor you can wear.” Okay, well, how much damage do I need to do with melee weapons to be able to kill the rats in the first area of the game? How thick does my armor need to be for me to survive in mandatory battles, and how much Strength do I need to wear that armor?

“Accuracy determines how likely you are to hit an enemy?” Okay, how much Accuracy do I need to hit my enemies? I can select Accuracy 1-10, but without knowing how much Dodge an average enemy has, or how a Hit is calculated, this knowledge is useless. You have to play the game first to learn any of that, and then start over to make a new character. That’s no fun.

While it is very difficult to accidentally make a totally unviable PC in Eureka, it is very possible to end up making a character whose stats and traits do not represent exactly who you want them to be if you don’t know what the numbers mean, and who your character is is very important in Eureka.

And that’s why we tell you all the core rules before we tell you to start making a character. That isn’t to say that the other way around is wrong, just that that’s how we prefer it.

Comment below if you have any more insight on this! Discussion is great!

And don't forget, we are in the last week of the kickstarter! The Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy kickstarter ends at 2:00PM CST on Friday May 10th! Get in and support it before it's too late to get custom artwork in the rulebook and the option to write your own entry in one of the tables that determines who playable monsters will have the opportunity to eat!

If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 12 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: *taps mic* Is...is this thing on? Am I back on Tumblr? Lol I was totally going to post this last night but I couldn't log in on any of my devices lol

I need you to be proud of me when you read this because it took all my power to not go full "I'm in Control" and leave this chapter with ALL the angst! Lol Make no mistake...*evil laughs* There is angst but I didn't end it with a cliffhanger that would have y'all upset with me until I wrote the next chapter lol Enjoy <3

Warnings: Daddy Steve/Sir Eddie and Plus Size sub reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), Light smut with all the angst, Y/N is referred to a lot as a whore/slut, mentions of aftermath from the last chapter (blood, cuts, bruises), Eddie talks about his trauma with his parents abandoning him.

There is a phone call and Steve's dialogue is in RED.

I'm not going to lie that's more or less the main theme of this chapter is that feeling OF being abandoned. These three are going through it but thankfully they have each other. This, however, is a completely new feeling to Y/N so I think that's why she reacts the way that she does (you'll see what I mean.)

Word Count: 5109

Your eyes remain on the floor as you sit in the principal’s office, numb to his words as he continues to shout at the other boys in the room. Blood drips from Eddie’s fingers as it flows from his knuckles where he repeatedly punched the other student in the face. Steve’s hair hung in front of his eyes, blocking the cuts and scrapes that currently adorned his own features. 

“2 months. You seriously can’t wait 2 months till you’re out of my school to pull a stunt like this?!”, Mr. Higgins screeched. “Mr. Martin and Mr. Martinez, we do not use that kind of language at our school and we certainly don’t write it.”

“Yeah. That’s why we kicked their ass. Because words like ‘slut’ are not tolerated here at Hawkins High.”, Eddie sassed. 

“You didn’t ‘kick our ass’, freak. You’re just lucky we didn’t get to finish.”

“Didn’t get to finish. I’m sure you’ve heard many women say that to you in the past.”

“Fuck you, Munson!”

“ALRIGHT! That’s enough.” Everyone becomes silent again as the principal rises to his feet. “Everyone is suspended for a week and be glad I don’t bar you from graduation.”

“If I may.”, Mr. C clears his throat as he pats Mr. Higgins shoulder trying to calm him down. “Since Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington were trying to defend a fellow student being bullied maybe for them, we can cut that in half. Three days instead of a week.”

The principal sighs as you feel his eyes swivel your way. “Y/N, my apologies. I forgot you were here.” He turns back towards his colleague when you don’t look his way. “Did she fight anyone?”

“No. She was the one that they…”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Um, fine. Mr. Munson. Mr. Harrington. You two are suspended for three days and Y/N, go ahead and head home. Take the rest of the day to recoup and we’ll count it as excused, ok?” Again, you don’t answer causing him to exhale once more. “Maybe…we should call your parents to pick you up…”

“Pfft, good luck with that. We heard they gave her to the Harringtons. How much are whores now a day, Stevie?”

Steve stood up angrily and your teacher quickly intervened. “Out now! And make no mistake, your parents will be called.” The other boys grumbled under their breath as they left slamming the door behind them. “You three follow me.” 

As he leads you out into the hallway, Masie jumps up from the floor she had been sitting on. “Y/N! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I was just surprised… what-what happened?”

“Miss Collins, go back to class.”

Your best friend huffs as her jaw tightens. “No! She’s my friend and I’ve known her way longer these two. Before Steve Harrington grew a fucking conscience and Eddie Munson decided to meddle in her life like she was his personal barbie doll!”

Both men froze in place causing Mr. C to push them forward till he reached his now empty classroom. “Sit. All four of you.”, he commanded. “Except Mr. Munson. Stand in front of me here.” Eddie cautiously did as he was told as the teacher dug into his desk, pulling out a gigantic first aid box. “You’re not a teacher if you aren’t ready for everything.”

He reaches out to grab the metalhead’s hand, sliding off his rings before he begins cleaning the man’s wound. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had a feeling. Since detention last year, I noticed the three of you hanging out more. To be honest, it was kind of nice to see Y/N get out of her shell.”

Masie scoots closer to you as she brushes some of your hair out of your face with her fingers. Eddie winced as his teacher began wrapping his hand with gauze. “Like almost everyone in this town, I grew up with your parents. Al Munson and I had a few classes together before he dropped out of school. Bill Harrington swung his dick around these halls like a fucking peacock. The original King Harrington for sure.”

He tapped Eddie up before gesturing towards an empty seat and beckoning Steve forward. When the boy didn’t move, Mr. C rolled his eyes as he grabbed his kit and kneeled in front of him to clean his face. 

“Your parents, Y/N, were just troublemakers, I swear to God. I remember one time your dad pulled the fire alarm to get everyone outside just so he’d have an audience when he sang ‘Let’s Stay Together’ by Al Green in a microphone in the quad to your mom.”, he chuckles at the memory as your eyes close and a tear falls down your cheek. 

“After they got married, I guess they decided to put things like that behind them. I never knew Wayne. He had already graduated when we started school and I believe trying to take care of your grandpa. The stories I heard; your uncle always seemed like a good man.”

He bandages Steve’s eye and hands him an ice pack to hold against it. After putting everything away, he comes around to lean against the front of his desk. 

“Boys, your fathers only ever cared about themselves even after they got married and started a family. Y/N, your parents knew they were in love the minute they met each other. I know Bill is over exaggerating this thing here because he needs to look like the good guy so I know the rumors aren’t true. I also know that if you are in a relationship with these two it’s real because you were raised by two people who actually made me believe love exists. You’re not a slut, Y/N, and I’m sorry this is happening because people fucking suck in this town.”

“You two…”, he points towards the guys. “…I have watched grow up, scared you would repeat the pattern of your parents. Eddie, you’ve been in trouble more times than I can count and Steve, while it may sound crass, Masie is right. You were a bit of an asshole.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Today, maybe.”, he raises an eyebrow in her direction as she smiles. 

“Since last year, I’ve noticed a change in all three of you. If this was toxic or bad in any way, I would recommend ending it now but… what I’m trying to say is don’t let these kids or your parents get to you like they did today. You have two more months. Then you can get out of here and do or be whatever you want. Fuck these narrow-minded people.”

Silently, you stand from your chair, exit the classroom and numbly head towards the parking lot. You hear feet behind you before a small hand touches your shoulder. 

“Y/N… you want to come over?”

You aggressively nod at Masie’s question as the tears start to flow more freely now. As she drives away from the school, you hear the boys screaming your name as they try and run to catch up to the car.

###########

“This…this is my fault, Maze. I don’t know what to do. I just…I just want to go home. I don’t want my parents to hate me.”

“Honey, they don’t hate you. They just…they don’t understand. If I’m being honest, I barely do.”, she sighs. “But I’ve seen Eddie and Steve with you especially after that game. They were so scared those three days you were at home. They asked about you every day.”

“I don’t understand it either. I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted to be left alone! Now I’m ruining people’s lives…”

“Hm. That’s very self-righteous of you.” Your eyes meet hers as you glare angrily at her assessment. “Y/N, you’re acting like Eddie and Steve don’t have minds of their own and can make their own choices. They CHOSE to be with you. They CHOSE to pursue you. I imagine they didn’t have a choice of falling in love with you but that just comes naturally when people are around you.” You smirk as she laughs. 

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course, but I think you should call them at least. Let them know you’re okay.” She reaches for her phone, dancing it in front of your face before you concede and take it from her. “I’m going to go downstairs to get us some comfort food. Take your time.”

“Y/N?!” Eddie answers the phone after one ring. “Baby, is that you?”

“Hey Ed. Is, um, is Steve there to?” There’s silence on the other end. It takes him so long to answer you thought the line disconnected. 

“Yeah, he’s…he’s right here. Are you still with Masie? Is she in the room?”

“I’m at her house right now. She’s in the kitchen getting food for us.”

“Y/N, why are you using our names then if we’re alone.”

“E-Eddie, I…” Your eyes start to tear up again as he huffs into the phone, listening as he talks to Steve in the background.

“Do you know where her friend lives?”

“No. Why the fuck would I know where Masie Collins lives?”

“Steve, something’s wrong. She sounds different and she’s not using our titles.”

“You don’t think…”

“Y/N, tell us where you are. We’ll come get you so we can talk, ok?”

“I-I-I… No.”

“Y/N…Think really hard about what you’re doing right now.”

“I am. I…this is my fault, Eddie. I can’t have you both ruining your futures and struggling because of me. You got hurt! Twice! Steve got cut off. All of our parents are falling apart. At least… at least if they think what they think already at school, Steve can go back to ‘King’ status and you can find someone you don’t have to constantly keep fighting for!”

“What about you, Miss high and mighty? Just going to live with your red-letter A slut badge alone for the next couple of months? What will you be doing while Steve and I will apparently knee deep in pussy and favoritism from the student body and our parents?”

“Did she really fucking say that?”

“Hm. Got real quiet all of the sudden. Come on, sweetheart. I really want to know what the plan is. What’s going to happen to you?”

You placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the cries as you heard the sound of a lighter close on his end. 

“What’s the matter, baby? You don’t know? I do. Things are just going to keep getting harder. These kids are still going to pull shit like they did today but you’ll be handling it alone. Some of the meatheads may get some ideas…be a bit grabbier than usual. I mean if you want to wear the moniker so badly maybe you can give them what they want. Steve and I have shown you a lot, haven’t we, princess?”

“Please…”, you beg. 

“…fucking…I can’t…bitch…Eddie hang up.”

“Calm down, Harrington.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! I fucking hate this! She thinks she’s doing us a goddamn favor?! Thanks for your sacrifice, Y/N! Now I have fucking no one! I gave you everything and I trusted you! I guess it doesn’t fucking matter now since apparently I’ll be rolling in money and fucking anything with legs…” His voice cracked as he spoke again, tearing your heart in half. “I thought her opinion about me changed. I guess she still sees me as that asshole from junior year. Fuck… I’m so stupid, dude.”

You break as they listen to you cry. Even though they are upset, it kills them to hear the sound. 

“Y/N… if you think we’d stop fighting for you just because you break up with us or whatever…then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were. We can play this game if you want and it will fucking hurt but we meant what we said to your parents. We love you.”

“I love you to, Sir. You and Daddy.”

“There she is. There’s our girl. Tell me where you are, baby. Please.”

You quietly hang up the phone, laying on your side in Masie’s bed as you close your eyes and sob. Thin arms suddenly wrap around your stomach as your friend hugs you to her chest. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Everything will be okay.”

########

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to school today?”

“I can’t, Maze. I can’t handle all that today. I can’t handle seeing their empty desks.”

“You should go see them then.”

You shake your head as rub your arms. “I, um, I can’t. I’m going to go see my parents and then see what happens from there.”

“Can’t or won’t?” She nods when you don’t answer. “Y/N, I’m your best friend and I love you with all my heart. That’s why I’m doing this, okay?”

“Doing what?”

She looks out the window before opening the front door with a big grin right as Eddie had lifted his fist to knock. “Please come into my house. My parents are out of town this week but that doesn’t mean you can smoke inside and please no sex at least not on my bed.”

Your eyes widen as both boys slowly enter her home. 

“I may have come upstairs too early yesterday and heard your conversation.”, Masie sighs as she comes over to take your hand. “I’ve never heard you cry like that and it frightened me a bit. I get that you think you’re doing what’s best for everyone especially them but it’s not fair to make that decision for them.” She gently kisses your cheek before reaching down to grab her backpack. “So I *69ed the number and gave them my address. I love you! Bye!”

Eddie smiles after her as she closes her front door and disappears. 

“I like her.”

They both looked awful; like they hadn’t gotten any sleep. The metalhead reeked of cigarettes and both their faces were starting to bruise from where they had gotten hit. You slowly stepped forward, reaching out to touch Steve’s face but the boy quickly pulled back and moved away from you. 

“No. I can’t…handle you touching me right now.”

Your hand recoiled as you blinked back tears. “Leave please.”

“No. Your friend is right. We deserve to have a say in this.”

“A say in what, Eddie?! What do I have to do to get you guys to understand!? I don’t want to be with you anymore!”

The man sighs as he turns towards his friend. “Last ditch effort it seems. She’s trying to hurt us to push us away.”

“Yeah, well that won’t work. She already tore my heart out last night.”

“And you’re still here, Steve. You were right! My opinion of you hasn’t changed. You’re still that fucking dumbass, preppy daddy’s boy I always thought you were! And you!”

“What about me, babe? Go ahead. I’m waiting.” Eddie started moving forward, pushing you with his chest as he tried to corner you. “Need some help? I’m a freak. I’m like my dad…a no-good trouble making bad boy.”

You loop around him as you run up the stairs, his feet heavy behind you. You try to slam the bedroom door in his face but he blocks it with his hand. “Come on, Y/n! I’m waiting.”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I can do that to, if you want. We can go back to how things used to be especially if you want everyone to continue thinking you’re a slut. Let’s be honest though, they are probably going to think that anyway but at least we can still play with you.”

“We can play this game better, little girl. You think you can hurt us to get us to go away?” Steve sat on the bed as he watched you two talk, his tone laced with venom. “You know what, fuck it, Munson. She wants to go back to being our little fuck toy again we can do that. She doesn’t love us anymore anyway, right? RIGHT?!”

Your hair blocked your face as your head hung down to your chest. Eddie stepped closer to you as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper to make sure you fully opened your ears and heard what he was about to say. 

“Tell us you don’t love us anymore. Look Steve and I in the eyes and say those words. As soon as we hear them, we’ll leave. We’ll disappear from your life and you’ll never see us again after graduation. These next two months, we’ll leave you be and won’t even look your way. But I promise you, sweetheart, that won’t change how we feel about you. You’ll always be ours.”

Your eyes meet his soft brown eyes as you collapse in his arms. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed and takes a seat. Moving his shoulder, his palms grip your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“I’m just…tired of people…getting hurt.”, you hiccupped. “These past couple…of nights…I dream about my…parents and how…they called me a slut. When we got to school…I saw what they wrote on the board…and the blood on your faces—”

“I know, baby. I know. It was scary. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. We weren’t looking to start a fight. Steve tried to erase it before you got there but those kids got in his face… they swung first.”

“Daddy… I’m sorry. I don’t think of you the same way I did before. You’re…not stupid. I wish I could protect you guys…I was trying to…”

“I know, Y/N. I just need some time, okay?”

You nod, curling into Eddie’s chest as you cry. “Princess, you don’t have to protect us. It’s our job to take care of you.” He rocks you back and forth as he continues to try and sooth you. “You do so much for us already. I meant what I said. No one has ever loved me or cared about me the way you do.”

“Come on. We should…head back to your trailer.”, Steve sighs as he stands and heads for the van. 

########

You left Masie a note telling her what happened and that you’d see her at school tomorrow. As you entered the trailer, Eddie told you about how Wayne gave him some money and since you weren’t there, he had run to the nearest store to grab some clothes he thought you would like including the pajamas he handed you to get changed into. Steve was silent the entire way home, lost in his own thoughts. 

While the metalhead went outside to smoke a cigarette, an idea hit you. You wondered to where you remembered seeing Eddie’s uncle own collection of tapes, browsing them until you found what you were looking for. 

Without making eye contact, you swooped back into the bedroom where Steve was laying on the mattress. After inserting the tape, you turned to face him, hands laced behind your back. 

“Let’s Stay Together” began playing through the speakers, startling the man as he turned to face you. You smirked as you grabbed a brush on the dresser and held it to your lips like a microphone. 

“I, I'm I'm so in love with you Whatever you want to do Is all right with me 'Cause you make me feel so brand new And I want to spend my life with you.”

“Y/N, no. Not right now.”, Steve responds but you can tell its half-hearted. 

“Let me say that since, baby, since we've been together Ooh, loving you forever Is what I need Let me, be the one you come running to I'll never be untrue.”

You grin as he softly smiles in your direction. Eddie, hearing the music, comes in to lean against the doorframe as he watches you dance and sing. Swaying your hips, you move towards him. 

“Oh baby Let's, let's stay together ('gether) Lovin' you whether, whether Times are good or bad, happy or sad Oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad.”

After leaning up to kiss his lips, you focus back on Steve, reaching for his hands to pull him to his feet. As you continue to sing, his palms land on your hips as he starts moving with you making your smile grow as your face presses against his chest. He clings to you, threading his fingers through your hair as the song ends and a new one begins. 

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I love you so much.”

“Yeah, baby. Me to.”

***

That night you three crashed before the sun had fully descended, completely exhausted from the last few days. 

The sound of you groaning in your sleep caused Eddie to grumble awake a little after midnight. His hand that was currently resting on your hip casually drifted up to brush your hair back and caress your face. 

“It’s…it’s ok, baby. You’re…ok…”

Your face scrunched together as your body pushed back against Steve’s chest, jostling his eyes open. 

“Wha…huh. I’m here!”

“SH! She’s having a nightmare again.”

The man behind you sighed as his arm tightened around your frame. “We’re here, baby girl. You’re safe.” Eddie’s eyes scanned your face as his friend soothed you, his own thumb gently rubbing against your skin trying to calm you. 

The metalhead scooted himself closer to you, tracing his fingers along your lips as you continued to mumble. 

“Y/N, come back to us, sweetheart.”, he whispers as he tenderly kissed your forehead. As he continued to place soft kisses along your face, his hand slowly slid under the waistband of your panties, cupping your sex in his palm. “Come back, baby.”

Eddie’s fingers gradually dip through your folds, circling your clit as his lips land on yours. Steve’s own mouth sucks on your shoulders and neck as his hands glide under your shirt, rubbing your soft tummy. 

“I love you, honey. Everything is ok. Your Daddy and Master are here.”

Your face steadily began to relax as your body curved into the boy behind you, you hand reaching out to land on the other boy’s back as you tried to pull him closer. 

“I love you to, princess. My beautiful, perfect girl. Can you open those gorgeous eyes for me?”

A soft moan left your lips as Eddie thrust two fingers into your core. “Ed-Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m right here. Can you feel me touching you, pretty girl?”

You subtly nod your head, still not fully awake and aware. “Steve?”

“I’m here to, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands slid further up your body as he massaged your breasts, rough fingertips playing with your nipples. 

“Can you do what I asked, little one? Can you open your eyes and look at me?” Your hand abruptly clings to his shoulder as your eyes open meeting his beautiful chocolate ones. “There she is. Back where she belongs.”

Your grip moves to his bicep, your other hand holding on to Steve’s under the pillow as Eddie pumped his fingers faster. 

“Please…”, you whimper as his forehead presses to your own. “Please, Sir. Make me cum.”

The sound of your slick filled his room as his hand moved faster between your legs. Roughly, you reached for him, yanking his lips to yours; the move itself startling him as he wasn’t used to you being forceful like that. 

You panted against his face as you came hard, tears flowing heavily down your cheeks as you slowly came back down from your high. The problem was… you couldn’t stop them. You fell asleep into a nightmare and woke up in heaven. Even though it would have been because of you, you almost lost them and for almost a day you had. The love they felt for you, how good they made you feel, the dates, movie nights in, the protectiveness, the way Eddie made you laugh, and the way Steve made you smile… for a moment it was gone. 

“Y/N, baby, you’re leaving us again. Come back.”

You hugged your arms around him, pulling the metalhead as close as you could before tugging at Steve’s hand to bring him closer to your back. 

“Honey…”

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered. “I just wanted to help…”

#######

Your father flung open the front door angrily after looking through the peep hole and seeing both boys on his front step. 

“Get away from my house.”

“We’re not here to cause any trouble. We just wanted to get some of her things so she has what she needs till she graduates.”

Eddie decided before they got there that Steve should do the bulk of the talking, afraid that either he would agitate things or not be able to control his temper. 

“Look, she wants to play adult and live this kind of life she can buy new things.”

“Sweetie.”, he exhaled at the sound of your mom’s voice. “Where is she?”

“She’s at school.”

“Why aren’t you two there?”, your dad asks in a sarcastic tone. “Fighting I’m guessing by your faces. Jesus, my daughter she can pick them. TWO of them it seems!”

“We got into a fight defending your daughter because some assholes decided to call her a slut in front of the entire classroom!”, Eddie snarled in their direction. “Yeah, but we’re the fuckers.”

“Eddie…”, the other boy warned. “Please, sir. Wayne has already done enough taking us in. Let us do this and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Your mom lightly pushes him aside and gestures towards your room. They quickly head that way, grab a duffle bag from your closet, and begin filling it with clothes. 

“Did she not want to come herself?”

“Not exactly, ma’am. She doesn’t know we’re here. We, um…never mind.”, Steve smiles politely as he focuses on his task. 

Eddie softly grins as he looks at pictures along your desk. There were so many images of you and Masie together along your vanity mirror. In frames, you had a lot of photos of you and your family including one of you making funny faces with your cousins in New York. He paused, however, when he moved some things to the side and found some images of you three hidden under some of your school papers. 

“No, please, tell me. I want to hear it.”, you mother sits on your bed as she waits for his answer. 

There was a polaroid you had taken when they were finally able to take you to the beach. The sun paled in comparison to your smile that day as you constantly beamed at them while swimming in the water or pushing your toes into the sand. You suggested a photo and Steve held it up high to get all three of you as you kissed his cheek and Eddie wrapped his arm around your neck. 

“Fun at the beach! 1984 : ) I love these idiots!”

Another picture was one Steve must of taken when he took you to that play. You were wearing a gorgeous blue gown he had bought you. You didn’t know but his friend had spent hours with him wondering the mall trying to find something you would like. Steve kept insisting it had to be “beautiful like her”. In the photo, your back was leaning against his chest and he had his arm wrapped around your chest as his cheek pressed to yours.

“Night at the theater 1983. The play was great but the company was better *Muah!*”

“She’s been crying a lot these passed two days. At first, we thought it was the shock of everything and what happened in school yesterday but… she misses you both. After what your husband did, we were afraid that…even if she came with us…her having to see you two mad at her and looking down on her…it would just hurt her more.”

This photo Eddie didn’t even know you had taken. You held the camera above you both as he slept, his back had a good gleam of sweat still reflecting off his pale skin. Some of your make up had smeared down your eyes and your head was turned, looking at him with eyes full of compassion. 

“Finally saw Dio with this goofball <3 1983.”

“We meant what we said, Mrs. Y/L/N. We love your daughter and I’m sorry but we aren’t going to let you guys break her heart again.”

Eddie grabbed all your pictures and a couple of the frames, throwing them on top of your clothes as he cuts Steve off to zip up the bag. 

“Come on, man. I think we have everything.”, the metalhead mumbled as he started heading for the hallway. 

As they reached your front door, Steve turned around to face them both. “Thank you. Once we get an apartment or something we’ll come back for the rest. Her things and mine won’t all fit in Wayne’s trailer.”

“Both my parents abandoned me.”, Eddie blurted. Everyone in the room froze in place as they faced him. “My mother ran off to protect herself and never came back for me. She knew how he was especially with me and she left anyway. My father chose to continue to break the law instead of shaping up and being a dad. “

“Steve’s parent’s abandon him in that big ass house. For as long as I’ve known him, his dad was either on vacation or a business trip in another country with his mother. When Mr. Harrington is in Hawkins, he’s focused on his own business instead of his son. When we met Y/N, I’ll be the first to admit we were both assholes. It’s always been amusing to me how she thinks she doesn’t do enough for us yet she helped make us who we are today. She’s sweet, funny, extremely tough, so beautiful…I mean I could go on!”, he chuckles before continuing. 

“She tried breaking up with us the other night because she thought it would make everyone happy and according to her best friend it nearly broke her. I want you to think about that while you two are sitting alone in this house. That you would rather abandon her or have her be unhappy then to accept that she’s in love in with two people. That you would jump to calling her a whore then to understand how she’s feeling. She deserves better than that.”

With that he turned on his heels and headed for his van. Steve gave your parents one final nod, silently agreeing with Eddie before following him out the door.

##########

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @eddiesguitarskills

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[side-vermin93]

Series FINALE?! (And what this might mean for you)

Hey folks, HOLY CRAP I WAS NOT EXPECTING MD TO CONCLUDE ON SEASON 1, I WAS EXPECTING / HOPING FOR A SEASON 2 AND ANOTHER YEAR AT LEAST

Ahem.

So, what does this mean for the MD Fandom?

For the artists, writers and fan animators who might be panicking and suspecting that the fandom is on the verge of imploding now that MD is going to end, DON'T PANIC! Fandoms as large as MD can survive LOOOONG after the show or media ends through fan content alone, there's always gonna be a group of dedicated fans creating, writing and animating content and there'll always be a group of dedicated fans who like that fan content.

Fanfiction, art, music, animations, if you make it, there's always gonna be folks who see it and like it, doesn't matter if the show is concluded or not, they will come if they like the cut of your jib and you will be the frontline troopers keeping the fandom chugging along (I'll be there too, ain't no way in HELL am I leaving the fandom)

So yeah! I'm firmly convinced that the MD fandom isn't gonna implode after the finale, so as long as folks keep making fan content and folks keep their interest IN said fan content, then we'll be A-Okay!

For casual fans, those who haven't dabbled in the mystical arts of fan-content (music, fics, animations, shitposting etc), you folks are gonna be eating GOOD, no need to worry about the show "dying" or anything, just support your favourite artists, shitposters, writers and fan-creators and we'll keep on trucking for years to come.

(I'm saying all of this to myself as much as I'm saying it to y'all, but hey, if other shows and fandoms can survive YEARS after their conclusion or years after it goes downhill, then so can we, except we WON'T be going downhill)

Now, that's all I gotta say for the greater MD fandom! For those of you who have heard of me and what I write on AO3, here's a message for you beneath the line.

Alright, so! For some OTRP stuff...

Managed to post a brand new chapter today (got some massive scheduling issues and just straight up forgot to send the chapter to my editors and beta readers to proof-read lmao) so that's up! But I got a bit of a heartfelt question for you folks.

I know the greater fandom will survive, but OTRP is still a long ways to go before the end, and I know that the current Colony arc is gonna drag on a bit (mostly focusing on stuff like slapping the Workers back into fighting shape, helping Doll finally move on from her parent's death, sloooowly uncovering and hinting secrets etc) and I totally admit that I wasn't expecting the arc to get this big or even for MD to conclude before I'm finished.

So what I wanna ask is this:

Even with MD ending, will you folks stick with me until the end? Will you still be motivated to read OTRP even if my upload schedule is dogwater and I forget to reply to comments? Will you stick around to see how Uzi, N, C and V win?

We've got a long ways to go, and while MD might end, OTRP will keep on trucking until I either finish the fic or die trying, I aint leaving no matter what. (/silly)