#i think its actually cool we got a chapter like this one

[grac3enocturne]

TBHK 123 spoilers

Mad at people shitting on Yashiro for crying this chapter, Nene a 15yo kid, who just lost all their friends, who just experienced again a traumatizing event, who just had a big resposability put on their shoulder. LET HER CRY. LET HER REST A LITTLE.

Some people also complained nothing big happen, which again is wrong. A lot happened, and what happened is imporant for the futur chapters and arc. Not our fault you reading with your ass but also your shipper brain. YES because i also saw people complaining there's no ship again. Not everything have to resault around (romantic ship)

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are. 

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way. 

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy. 

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?  

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger? 

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing. 

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking. 

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils. 

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck. 

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb. 

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon. 

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride. 

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store. 

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue. 

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them. 

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out. 

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.  

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet. 

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend. 

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don���t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs. 

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him. 

But you lied.

You did miss it. 

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended. 

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too. 

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face. 

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!? 

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!” 

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention. 

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you? 

You roll your eyes as you scoff. 

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece. 

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer. 

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life! 

Your parents were even coming to this! 

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up. 

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji. 

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was. 

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!” 

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables. 

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden. 

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

[ragde890]

So... Chainsaw Man 180.

The chapter starts with Yoru doing the same Bang posture she was doing before trying to attack Aging with the finger bullet. With this, we confirm that the whole Aging speech at the end of 179 happened while he stopped/slowed time (hence the blurred lines).

After that, we've got the dream scene, which an incredibly cool detail.

For those who don't remember, in chapter 110 we have a dream sequence with Asa. It's a recurring dream where she's running down an alleway, the ground full of dead chickens (a reference to Bucky, at that point of the story). She tries not to step on them, but it's so full of bodies that she can't avoid it.

People have been talking a long time now about how this dream sequence actually connects with Asa and Yoru's relationship (specially this last chapters, with Asa being just an spectator as Yoru murders thousands with her own body). Although it is important to mention that this time, there are no chicken on the floor (or at least we don't see them during the chapter 180 dream sequence).

In any case, I think it's always cool when this kind of analysis that has been under discussion for months is being adressed so directly.

After seeing Denji for the first time since July 17, we've got the Aging World scene, and the main point of speculation in this chapter: the human that escaped that world a long time ago.

I've seen people theorize about that human being Quanxi. However, I think the most plausable option (albeit it's still just speculation) is Yoshida. Not only is he someone who looks like a teenager but clearly isn't one and can survave a 1v1 against Quanxi, but also we've got this inside cover art of him from two volumes ago:

Doesn't this place look familiar?

And yes, I know it might sound crazy to interpret cover art as foreshadowing. But it's not the time this happens in CSM. Take for example the inside cover art from volume 12, where we can see what looks like the buildings Yoru destroyed on chapter 178.

Not only that, but Yoshida being that person would add to Yoshida's and Aging interaction some chapters ago (as it wouldn't be the first time Aging is surprised at something Yoshida does) and that one dialogue from part 1:

And to close, I'd like to talk about the sideburns guy "Mreeee" at the end (as well as the whole pressing his head against the tree thing).

People have pointed out that it looks as if he's trying to mimick a cycada at the end of its life (maybe hoping that it will kill him). This might also relate to cycada's role in greek mythology, as they're related to inmortality:

In any case, I think it's really cool that —now that we've seen that Aging's powers are actually the opposite of that — we confirm that devils can represent the opposite of what they're supposed to embody (which helps to the birth devil theory).

[complete-clownery]

Hahaha okay rant about this amazing fanfic (you probably heard of this one already but still)

So whenever it comes to explaining and writing under my posts I just get lazy but I need to push through this cuz I need to talk

So the fanarts were made for the lmk fanfiction sunbreak, that a lot of you (probably mostly shadowpeach shippers) had read, and it is amazing, I read trough it as fast as my brain let me and as you can see it has pleasantly scratched my brain so much so that I even (attempted) to make fanart for it

Ngl if I wasn't a major pussy I would try to illustrate the whole thing or make covers for each chapter but Im unable to work on something more than 2 hours and I would want those to look good, but good looking art (if I don't mess up) takes 6 hours ughh--- annoying much---

Anyways I'm not good with literature but man is this fix a masterpiece *chefs kiss* its everything its amazing, I was unable to put it down once I started it

Okay i dont think I have the brain capacity to explain how much I worship the writer of this masterpiece @ladygreenfrisbee , so i'm just going to talk about the drawings a tad

So first picture with Red Son and MK its sort of like an au in the fic where the whole lbd plot is somehow nonexistent and after Macaque gets to his sisters domain they settle down and raise the kids together without much of an issue aside from assassinations keep happening and trying not to get in trouble with the heavens

Id like to think that Gongzhu still wouldn't let the court tailors to put any form of red or gold on MKs outfits and only allowed the yellow after when MK was old enough to declare that yellow was his favorite color, but even now she would insist on some form of purple and shadow motives to let others know who the mother is

We also got baby MK and toddler Red Son and sassy LIF and Mac

Third pic with the lion: I don't know what it was or why but I just love general Song so much--- he's a major dickhead but sgvshshsevkdididhr (actually I kinda love all the original characters in this one, from the generals to the old lady in the beginning of the book, (gosh I also wanna draw some scenes from those chapters I loved how Mac and she interacted hshsjsj))

so chapter 34 was probably my favorite so far I re read it about two more times cuz it was amazing to see Macaque being the schemer he is and try to piss of Song lol

Last picture: its a sketch/a wip or whatever (probably not going to finish it but im still putting it there cuz its somewhat decent looking)

Its the part where Wukong remembered of Macaque finally finding him and asking for him to come back to flower fruit mountain.

I tried to make Macaque look more unhinged on this one but since I didn't finish it I dont think its that noticable so fuck that but I also gave him a halo like the saints to symbolise his suffering and what not (thought it looked cool and fitting think whatever you want about it lol)

And that all ((((hollly mother))))

If you read this trough, thank you and congrats👏👏

[jamingbenn]

year in review - hockey rpf on ao3

hello!! the annual ao3 year in review had some friends and i thinking - wouldn't it be cool if we had a hockey rpf specific version of that. so i went ahead and collated the data below!!

i start with a broad overview, then dive deeper into the 3 most popular ships this year (with one bonus!)

if any images appear blurry, click on them to expand and they should become clear!

₊˚⊹♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁

before we jump in, some key things to highlight: - CREDIT TO: the webscraping part of my code heavily utilized the ao3 wrapped google colab code, as lovingly created by @kyucultures on twitter, as the main skeleton. i tweaked a couple of things but having it as a reference saved me a LOT of time and effort as a first time web scraper!!! thank you stranger <3 - please do NOT, under ANY circumstances, share any part of this collation on any other website. please do not screenshot or repost to twitter, tiktok, or any other public social platform. thank u!!! T_T - but do feel free to send requests to my inbox! if you want more info on a specific ship, tag, or you have a cool idea or wanna see a correlation between two variables, reach out and i should be able to take a look. if you want to take a deeper dive into a specific trope not mentioned here/chapter count/word counts/fic tags/ship tags/ratings/etc, shoot me an ask!

˚　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

with that all said and done... let's dive into hockey_rpf_2024_wrapped_insanity.ipynb

BIG PICTURE OVERVIEW

i scraped a total of 4266 fanfics that dated themselves as published or finished in the year 2024. of these 4000 odd fanfics, the most popular ships were:

Note: "Minor or Background Relationship(s)" clocked in at #9 with 91 fics, but I removed it as it was always a secondary tag and added no information to the chart. I did not discern between primary ship and secondary ship(s) either!

breaking down the 5 most popular ships over the course of the year, we see:

super interesting to see that HUGE jump for mattdrai in june/july for the stanley cup final. the general lull in the offseason is cool to see as well.

as for the most popular tags in all 2024 hockey rpf fic...

weee like our fluff. and our established relationships. and a little H/C never hurt no one.

i got curious here about which AUs were the most popular, so i filtered down for that. note that i only regex'd for tags that specifically start with "Alternate Universe - ", so A/B/O and some other stuff won't appear here!

idk it was cool to me.

also, here's a quick breakdown of the ratings % for works this year:

and as for the word counts, i pulled up a box plot of the top 20 most popular ships to see how the fic length distribution differed amongst ships:

mattdrai-ers you have some DEDICATION omg. respect

now for the ship by ship break down!!

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#1 MATTDRAI

most popular ship this year. peaked in june/july with the scf. so what do u people like to write about?

fun fun fun. i love that the scf is tagged there like yes actually she is also a main character

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#2 SIDGENO

(my babies) top tags for this ship are:

folks, we are a/b/o fiends and we cannot lie. thank you to all the selfless authors for feeding us good a/b/o fic this year. i hope to join your ranks soon.

(also: MPREG. omega sidney crosby. alpha geno. listen, the people have spoken, and like, i am listening.)

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#3 NICOJACK

top tags!!

it seems nice and cozy over there... room for one more?

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BONUS: JDTZ.

i wasnt gonna plot this but @marcandreyuri asked me if i could take a look and the results are so compelling i must include it. are yall ok. do u need a hug

top tags being h/c, angst, angst, TRADES, pining, open endings... T_T katie said its a "torture vortex" and i must concurr

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BONUS BONUS: ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA

as an a/b/o enthusiast myself i got curious as to what the most popular ships were within that tag. if you want me to take a look about this for any other tag lmk, but for a/b/o, as expected, SID GENO ON TOP BABY!:

thats all for now!!! if you have anything else you are interested in seeing the data for, send me an ask and i'll see if i can get it to ya!

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[skzfairyyydreamz]

Replaced? (Part 6)

Genre: Skz Smau, Text posts, Skz!Fic, Non!idolAu, Angst, Crack/humor, Mini series

Pairing: Bsf!skz, Fem!Reader, Bf!Felix, Stoner!Skz, Stoner!Reader

Warnings: !!Slow Build!! , Strong language (ofc!!) , Mentions of SA, Mentions of Alcohol, Mentions of smoking, Mentions of cheating, Mentions of fighting, Suggestive humor !!MDNI!!

Synopsis: Some people say friendship breakups hurt more than actually relationships .. and now y/n sees for herself why some friend groups are best kept separate

A/n: and we're back with another chapter of REPLACED? this chapter is definitely giving reality tv type MESSY and i LOVE it bc this is where the real angst starts to kick in. I know this fic was originally meant to be a text post series but i decided to add written parts as well to enhance the details! Chapter 6 is for sure a THICK and JUCIY one so buckle your seatbelts! Thank you all for sticking around and enjoying these silly little stories with me! hugs and kisses! MWAH!! 💋 xoxox <3 <3 <3 <3

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

<<<Previous | Next >>> Screenshot count: 26 Word count: 3.9k

“Omg TYSM! can you guys just grab these and bring them up I have to piss like a fucking race horse!” 

“Yea yea go ahead we got it! ” Chris waved you off as you hoped out the cab doing your little pee pee dance.

Minho couldn’t help but to point and chuckle as he mocked the way you hoped from side to side like a little toddler who couldn’t hold their bladder. 

without any thought you quickly flicked him off almost like it was a reflex before you took off running up to your apartment building with the speed of light. “The doors open!” Changbin shouted behind you 

You didn’t even realize how quiet it was in your apartment until you came out of the bathroom. walking back towards the living room to check on everything…

“Oh hey there!” you heard from behind you in the far left corner of the room. “Ughhh ofc its him… obviously … just keep your Distance fuck boy” you think to yourself as you mentally roll your eyes before turning around To see Alex holding some plugs in in his hand. 

“Alex, hey!” You force a smile trying not to seem awkward (but failing miserably) “you all good, you got everything you need?” 

“Yeah yeah all good just finishing my set up now” he responded from behind the table with all his equipment as he plugged his last cord into his laptop. 

“Cool cool cool, perfect timing guests are about to start arriving any second.” 

“ nice .. you know I had no idea you were so close with the whole gang from work .. Chris, changbin, minho , jeongin.. you guys get along pretty well I assume.” 

“Oh Yeah we’ve all been super close for years! We’ve been friends Way before we even started working the club actually.” 

“wow.. for a long while huh? Would’ve never known” 

“Yeah.. that’s family ” you say with a soft smile of adoration “where is jeongin btw ? Is he in the back?” You turned on your heels heading towards your bedroom to quickly and smoothly escape this conversation you no longer wanted to be a part of. 

“No, he and his girlfriend went out to get more ice!” He yelled out before you could get far quickly dismissing your escape route “fuck!!” You thought to yourself. “Oh okay .. water?” You offered him as a distraction turning to walk towards the kitchen wanting to be as far away from him as possible. 

“Yeah sure” there was a few seconds of silence .. then he spoke again. “Listen ..thanks for booking me for this gig, I’ve only really been working the club the past few months so I appreciate you considering me.” He spoke out loud enough for you to hear him from the kitchen. 

“Oh it’s no problem, you do a pretty good set at work and everybody loves good music so why not?!” You force a chuckle trying to seem polite as you emerged from the kitchen walking over to hand him a bottle of water. 

And as if the way you felt his eyes shamelessly roaming your body wasn’t enough to make you want to die in that moment, it was like the energy in the room got more and more dense every time he opened his stupid mouth. 

You extend your arm out to give him the bottle of water and ofc instead of being a  normal person he grazes his warm clammy fingers across your hand before taking the water bottle from you “thanks” he says “ AHHHH EW EW EW I HATE MEN I HATE MENNNN WHY WOULD HE FUCKING DO THAT EW WHY CANT HE FUCKING BE NORMAL WTF??!” The inner voice in your head was crumbling with the ick. 

“Your outfit looks amazing btw ” he added make this moment even worse! at this point You genuinely would rather leap head first off your 7th floor balcony than stay in a room alone with him any longer. “DUDE WTF IS TAKING THE GUYS SO LONG OMFG !! GET ME OUT OF HERE!! ” your inner voice still raging with panic. He then grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “ ha thanks” you reply to his yucky compliment forcing yet another painful smile. “And you smell so good” he inhaled your scent (like the creep he is) almost whispering in you ear. He had a very strong grip and everything was happening so fast you barely had a chance to pull away or react.

his hand kept creeping around your lower back as he tried to pull your body closer into him. His hand then landing just on top of your ass as he full on groped you with no shame. And what made it even worse was that you were wearing a mini skirt. 

“Ew bitch wtf are doing!!?” You pushed him hard enough for him, a man twice your size and height to stumble backwards almost falling into his DJ equipment. Your fight or flight senses kicked in real fast. (Thank god)

“Wdym princess.. I thought you were feeling me?” he replied with a sly grin on his face like what he had just did was okay or some kind of funny joke. You were livid at this point. 

And without a thought or a second guess your hand came crashing down making contact with his face. The slap was so hard the sound echoed through the quiet living room. “You think this shit is fucking funny!? You’re about to be in a house with all my MALE best friends and my BOYFRIEND… you think it’s going to end well for you if I tell them you just sexually assaulted me??!” 

“Idk what you’re talking about pretty girl, I didn’t do anything” he let out a small malicious almost inaudible chuckle holding his face where you slapped him. You continued to look at him with pure rage and disgust. 

“ you’re fucking disgusting.” you turned away attempting to storm off but before you could even walk away..

“Cmon princess don’t be like that” 

“Shut tf up and do the job you were paid to do before I kick you out of my fucking house Alex! "

“Well yeah , you could kick me out but … what’s a party without music ?? And I mean .. you already paid me in advance so really it would just be a loose loose situation for you, no? ” he chuckled lightly as he mocked you with that menacing grin still lingering on his face. 

“Do the job you were paid for and Stop fucking talking to me before my boyfriend blacks your other eye!” 

“Boyfriend ?? do I know him??” He laughed out loud this time yet still holding his face where you slapped him. He was putting on such an unbothered douche bag persona but you could tell his face was definitely ringing.

“Use that tiny fucking brain of yours and figure it out” 

“ I know another way you could put all that feisty energy to good use”

“ oh bitch you’re playing with fire .. ” that stupid grin never once leaving his face had gotten under your skin so badly you just had to one up him.  “you’re disgusting you fucking pig!” You glared at him before fixing your mouth to spit in his face before Finally storming off away from him and into the kitchen.

Just as you turned your back to walk away Changbin and Minho walk through the door. 

“Sorry we took so long there was traffic on the elevators. Chris should be coming in right behind us” changbin said as they both walked to the island counter to set the cakes down. being as close as you were they both immediately knew something had happened. And they were definitely gonna find out what was wrong. 

The tension in the room was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Minho and bin Just shared a suspicious and concerned look communicating with each other without ever having to speak a word. Carefully watching over you as you grabbed a shot glass from the cabinet and slammed it close. 

“ you okay squirt? ” Minho said watching you crack open a bottle of vodka as anger clearly oozed off of you. 

“Mhmm… you wanna drink? ” you try to deflect but your clenched jaw and very noticeable heavy breathing gave it away. You were not okay. In fact you were fuming.

Neither of them answered you, they just continued to read the room intuitively trying to figure out what had just went down in the spare of 10 minutes. You threw your first shot of the night back with urgency . Finally making eye contact with changbin. “ what happened??” He silently mouthed to you so Alex who was sitting across the room wouldn’t hear it. You shook your head trying to indicate “nothing” but the eye contact you held with him said something entirely different. After what happened , two of your very protective best friends being present with you brought you some comfort and You were finally able to slow down your breathing. 

You let out a loud sigh before removing yourself from the kitchen and walking towards the balcony "I need some fresh air” 

Minho, being the quiet observant one he continued to read the room until he saw it and let out an involuntary gasp. 

Changbin immediately snapping his head in his direction with furrowed eyebrows “WHAT!?” He silently mouthed once again. Minho just quickly pulled out his phone and started typing a text message and bin immediately understood also pulling out his phone…

“ sorry for the wait I’m back! And look who I founddddd” Chris’s voice come through the door 

“Familyyyyyy” Rachel poked her head through the door 

“Hey y’all heyyyy!! ” Olivia walked in behind her with jeongin and Sophie following, both of them holding bags of ice. 

"Heyyy!!" Changbin jumped up holding out both his arms inviting Felix’s sisters in for a hug

“No waaaaayyy!! Lix is going to be so happy to see you guys!!” Minho added

“Where is she??” Rachel asked after greating them both 

“Yeah where’s my sissy pie??” Olivia added 

“She’s out on the balcony getting some air” Minho pointed them into your direction 

The room was silent until the balcony door could be heard opening “watch this!” Chris grabbed everyone’s attention and then put a hand up to his ear just as you let out an extremely loud screech of excitement “AHHHHH STFUUUU UR JOKING??? YOU GUYS ACTUALLY MADE IT?!!!! ” and everyone burst into laughter.

Before you knew it your house was filled with all your friends and mutuals of your friend group everyone was chatting and catching up with each other in the mean time until the birthday boys arrived. Chris found you in the kitchen pouring yourself another drink. “Y/n you did such a good job! Look everyone is already enjoying themselves! ”

“Yeah we seemed to pull it off perfectly huh?” 

 “Is something wrong?? Whats the long face kiddo??” 

“It’s nothing ”

“ You know you can’t lie to me y/n ” he replied standing up straight from where he was leaning against the counter across from you and slowly pulled you into a warm hug. “What’s the matter hmm?” He added as he rubbed your back. 

“Idk I just feel stupid .. and violated, it’s whatever I’ll feel better when Lix gets here”

“violated!? Y/n did somebody here do something to you bc I’ll handle that shit” he responded quickly pulling back to look you in the eyes making sure that you understood he was serious. “No no Chris it’s okay I’m keeping it chill for the sake of the party we can talk about it later” 

“Y/N … what. Happened.” He said more sternly in his fatherly tone.

“Tell me. I’ll handle it right now.” 

“Chris not now.. please?” You looked up at him with pleading almost teary eyes “ we’ll talk, I promise” there was a moment of silence between you two as you waited for him to trust you and agree to the promise you were making him. You and Chris had a special type of friendship and you understood each other well.

“… I promise.” You repeated as he wiped away the single tear sliding down your face. He didn’t verbally say anything he just nodded and pulled you back into a tight hug. You squeezed him back glancing over his shoulder almost physically cringing at the sight of Alex still eyeing you from across the room. You just tucked your head into his chest trying your best to relax in your best friends arms almost like a baby hiding from a Scary monster

“ OKAY OKAY EVERYONE PLACES!! PLACESSS!!! THE BOYS ARE ON THEIR WAY UP!” 

“ I ’ll get the lights!! ” Minho jumped up to turn all the lights out as everyone started to scramble to their feet making sure to hide behind something or someone. 

The apartment was so quiet you heard exactly when the boys stepped off the the elevator loud laughter surrounding them as always. 

“Ouu I hear them!” Olivia said 

“Omg they’re cominggg shhh shhhh ” you whisper shouted with anticipation. 

“Go in, Y/n said the door is open” you heard Hyunjins voice as they neared the apartment door. 

“K, cool” Jisung spoke before turning the door Knob and pushing the door open … 

“SURPRISE!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” 

The party had slowly begun to come to and end.  Some guests starting to grab their jackets and head out while others were still mingling and some even passed out drunk in various areas of the house. “Chris we’ll be right back we’re just gonna walk Liv and Rach down stairs!” 

 “Yeah yeah no problem ” he responded while giving both you and Lix the “help me” side eye. Jeongin had been passed out drunk for the passed 2 hour and Sophie.. in her natural weird bitch fashion, has been following Chris around ever since.  “We’ll be super fast” you whispered to him while speeding out the door. 

“Y/n We had such a good time sissy pie!” Olivia said “we really did!” Rachel added. 

“Yay! I’m so happy you were able to make it it’s been so long since we seen you guys !” 

“ my head is still spinning , no way you actually got my sisters to fly out here from Australia just to surprise me for my birthday! ” Lix shook his head at you in disbelief but his big brown eyes were filled with love and admiration. “ anything for my little nugget!” Rachel interrupted hugging her younger brother.

“yeah we missed you heaps, Lix” Olivia added grabbing them both into a group hug. You just watched with a huge smile on your face quickly grabbing your phone to snap a picture of the precious moment without them even realizing.

“You deserve to be celebrated and surrounded by love hun.. especially for your birthday.” He then walked over pulling you into a tight squeeze “ and you .. my love, deserve to get your back blown out” he whispered in your ear so his sisters wouldn’t hear. You looked up at him with a giggle “is that a promise, pretty boy?”

“ it could be” he smirked back “ well, actually it can’t be bc there is a black out drunk jeongin upstairs in my bed right now”

“He can watch” Felix grinned playful raising his eyebrows up and down. “Ew Lix, behave!” You hit his shoulder as You both laughed out loud. 

“Our hotel is only about 20 minutes from here, so we can just walk” Rachel’s voice grabbed your attention away from each other.

“No way!” “Absolutely not!” You and Felix both practically scolded her simultaneously. 

“ it’s after 4 am you’re not walking anywhere this time of night! ” Felix spoke in his protective voice his tone dropping an octave as if Rachel wasn’t HIS older sister 😂

“It’s alright babes I already ordered you guys an Uber , I think that’s it pulling up right now!” You added 

“Ugh such sweethearts, I told you these two were meant to be together!” Olivia smiled to Rachel as you all hugged once more and said your goodbyes before heading back into your apartment building.

“You ..” Felix turned you around to face him putting his finger through your belt loop and pulling you into him once you stepped onto the empty elevator.

“Me??” You smirked batting your long fluffy lashes at him “innocently” flirted back with your boyfriend.

“Yes you..” he pressed your body into his placing his finger under your chin “you have no idea how in love with you I am”

“idk .. I think I might have an idea” you whispered back wrapping your arms around his neck smoothly leaning in for a kiss which quickly and effortlessly turned into a mini make out session. Your hands tangled in the back of his hair, his free hand squeezing your ass. So lost in your tipsy bliss you barely noticed the elevator stopping at your floor.

Felix’s teeth softly biting and pulling at your bottom lip earning himself a not so quiet moan to escape your lips as the elevator door opened. Pulling away slowly from each other regaining focus is when you realized that someone was standing there watching you two.

Turning around to see none other than Alex. Your energy entirely shifted once you saw his face as if his presence just irritated your whole soul and spirit (and it did!) you let out a loud sigh and sarcastic tight smile (on purpose this time!)

“Finally heading out?” “Uhh yeah….” Alex responded. putting his head down trying his best to avoid eye contact with felix.

“Perfect!” You said rolling your eyes giving him the nastiest resting bitch face. You grabbed Felix’s hand walking out the elevator bumping passed him with Felix close behind you giving him a death glare of his own. 

“Babe..” Felix nudged trying to get your attention once he knew alex was gone. “hmm?” You responded avoiding eye contact because you knew exactly where this convo was headed.

“Babe wait! Stop walking, look at me? ” he pulled your arm to get you to turn around and face him. 

“Hmm?” You repeated, hesitantly looking up at him

“baby what was that?” “What do you mean??” 

“Listen you know I don’t like that bitch.. and I understand if you’re doing the whole my boyfriend doesn’t like you, so I don’t like you either thing.. but that felt like a whole different type of animosity. What’s going on? ” 

“Lix it’s nothing ” you said reaching to pull your keys out of your pocket as a distraction. 

He gently grabbed your chin raising your head to make eye contact with you again “princess ..  I know it’s something. I’m not gonna pressure you but you just say it the word and I’ll beat that fuckers ass again you hear me? ”  

You nodded as he left a kiss on your forehead. “I’m not shutting you out Lix , I  just want to end tonight on a good note okay? 

 “I get it.. whenever you’re ready princess” he said giving you one last forehead kiss before walking back into your apartment. 

“Yo yo yo what are you doing??!..” was the first thing you heard as you opened the door to your apartment. You and Felix Looked at each other in suspicious confusion. “Aw Chris c'mon you’re no fun.. ” you heard Sophie’s voice coming from the kitchen as well. you rushed over to see what was going on. And nothing on gods green earth could have possibly prepared you for what you had just saw. 

Standing at the entrance of your kitchen you could not believe your eyes as Sophie literally threw herself at Chris, grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him. You and Felix both frozen with your mouths hanging open in utter shock. You all were aware of the shady disgusting person Sophie was but this was a new level even for her! Chris reacted before you could even say or do anything. 

“Bro Wtf is wrong with you!?” He raised his voice as he pushed her off of him. “You’re literally dating my best friend have some goddamn decorum for fuck sake!” 

Still neither of them had realized you and Felix were standing there until you opened your mouth to speak “ oh my fucking god” you said just above a whisper almost as if you were trying to confirm what you were seeing was real and not just some drunken fever dream.

Their heads snapped in your direction and Felix swiftly tried grabbing your hand to calm you down. He definitely knew you were extremely close to loosing your shit at any given moment at this point. And ofc within milliseconds You we’re snatching your hand away from him charging towards Sophie with boiling blood pumping through your veins

"“ HOW FUCKIN DARE DO THIS TO HIM!" You grabbed the nearest liquor bottle off the counter attempting to throw it at her. Felix swooping in grabbing you and picking you up from behind as chris tried to snatch the bottle from your hand. Both of them failing with the amount of rage that was pumping through your body. But luckily for Sophie the glass bottle missed her head by an inch and hit the wall behind her. “JEONGIN LOVES YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS SOPHIE!?” 

“ Omg did you just throw that bottle at me??!! What is wrong with you, you’re a fucking psychopath!!! you're crazy!” 

Hearing all the commotion and shattering glass Minho and changbin came rushing out from the balcony to see what was going on. 

“ I told yo stupid ass months ago if you ever hurt him that I was gonna dog walk you bitch and I mean that shit! ” 

“Y/n it’s not even like that!” 

“Shut tf up i just watched you kiss Chris after he told you NO! Don’t tell me it not like that when you’re in my kitchen feeling up on another guy when the man who is madly in love with you is passed out drunk in the next room! "

She just stood there stunned looking stupid and tipsy as she realized she got caught. 

“You’re a compulsive liar and horrible friend! I’ve been wanting to beat your ass for so long now but I held out for my best friends sake. I regret ever introducing you to each other and I pray to god he starts to see you for who you really are!” 

“Y/n-” 

“Get your shit and get tf out of my house before I beat the living shit out of you! Delete my number and you better hope I never catch you out in the street bc unlike some people I AM a woman of my word.” 

“Touch me and I’d gladly press assault charges.” 

“Idgaf Bitch I would GLADLY go to jail for beating your ass!”

“Don’t test me y/n” 

“WASSUP HOE!! TRY ME!!! I FUCKING DARE YOU!!!! ” You started raging once again grabbing yet ANOTHER liquor bottle off the counter. This one being bigger and alot heavier Chris and Felix immediately rushed you out the kitchen saving your house from becoming crime scene as Minho and Changbin stepped in to escort Sophie out of the house. 

Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @imastraykidsfan@simpracha @turtledove824  @laylasbunbunny  @armystay89  @eclipsemina @4ln-stay8@aalexyuuuhm @scribblesnsketches05 @amarecerasus @euphoric-univers @stellasays45 @night-storm7 @vixensss @blossomlilly @jc003 @hanniesbubuwife @beccaskz@soyeonbean @kawaiijellyfishtimetravelr @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @gabriellamarie@livelaughloveskzmwah @thatshroomiegirl @flowerbunnii @whoa-jo @babygirlskz98@leftenemydestiny 

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(plz lmk if you would like to be removed or added)

[infimace-blog]

Thinking about rap as a technical artform and rap as a cultural artform, with respect to Tumblr's incompetence at dealing with either. Tumblr can just barely grasp the former because, like all forms of Black music, it's been repackaged in various ways that are more palatable to to white audiences. I talked last month about how what Tumblr was calling rap while trying to defend its taste in music is more akin to filk songs, but I should admit, sometimes Tumblr cites people who actually rap. It doesn't fix the problem or absolve them of their bullshit, but it is true.

The failure then becomes an inability to recognize or care about how rap functions culturally.

People on Tumblr will take Dungeon Meshi and intricately pick apart how a single chapter connects back to real-world neurodivergence issues and the cultural differences between the West and the East when it comes to handling them, and then look at any given rap song and assume it's skin-deep. Unless it's Hamilton back in the late 2010s, before we all decided it was cringe, in which case they'll gladly dig into the history of the early USA and, like the play itself, sidestep the racism whenever possible.

Take Weird Al, one of the many names that's been thrown around in Kendrick and Drake's wake. Weird Al is technically a rapper. He has done rap. We cannot ignore that as a factual statement. He's not even that bad as a rapper. But he has no engagement with rap as a cultural object; he engages with the artform as a parodist. "Amish Paradise", probably Weird Al's most popular rap parody, doesn't say anything; it's here to riff on a religious minority. But you dig into it just a little and you can see the kind of complexity that Tumblr usually loves to talk about. The song is, after all, a parody of Coolio's Grammy-winning "Gangster's Paradise", which is literally about being a black man in an environment dominated by organized crime and fearing the constant threat of death in that life, but was also created specifically for the movie Dangerous Minds, a middling white savior movie about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching a bunch of bad stereotypes of what people think inner city non-white students are. A movie that was, in turn, based on a white woman's memoirs about teaching in a bad school near San Francisco. You've got this interplay between a white woman's real-life efforts to teach her black and Latino students (I can't speak to how effective she was, mind you), a fictionalized version of that same woman being shown as the sole guiding light for her underdeveloped gangbanging students - and a white actress's crappy Kipling-ass 5/10 film getting Coolio his Grammy. It was tailor-made to be Coolio's big hit with white audiences, getting the push of Michelle Pfeiffer, having slow and deliberate rapping, and lacking the swearing in most of Coolio's oeuvre (Stevie Wonder mandated no swearing in return for letting Coolio sample his music). And, though I suspect this was unintentional, the song plays into the same narrative that the movie does, how this rapper is doomed to his life because "nobody's there to teach [him]", with dramatic choir and strings underscoring the dire fate that awaits this rapper if some charitable white person doesn't help him - the same dramatic choir and strings that Weird Al uses for comedic effect by comparing it to Amish farmwork.

I put that last paragraph together with two or three hours of Wikipedia, and you can do the same kind of analysis with a lot of hit rap songs (and Genius is right there if you need a helping hand - I wouldn't have understood much of Kendrick's Euphoria without it), and I think this drives a lot of my frustration? Tumblr loves to see something cool and then take a few days to write an in-depth post about how cool it is under the surface. So the lack of this when it comes to rap does show a deep disinterest in thinking about it when it isn't fun. And there's so much cool shit to learn about rap. Did you know that Baby Got Back was inspired by the anti-black fatphobia Sir Mixalot's model girlfriend was dealing with in her industry, and was pushing back against the media's general preference for skinny white women? Did you know that there's a Turkish hip-hop scene specifically in Germany because, as a minority that was brought to the country for cheap labor and then forced to exist as second-class citizens, they ended up relating a lot to the music? Just. Dig a bit. There's so much.

[lintwriting]

I was here when mouthwashing was just a demo. here are some things I noticed.

I caught on to the fact that Curly was likely innocent and that Jimmy was an unreliable narrator based on the "Take Responsibility" word scramble and Jimmy's asshole behavior. Because of this, I also did not think there would be supernatural horror, I thought it’d be man-made and psychological, which I was right about.

What I did not expect was the subtle depiction of how workplaces fail victims of rape and misogyny.

What I did not expect was how backgrounded the late stage capitalism critique ended up being.

late stage capitalism: a red herring

From the Demo, you focus a lot on the corporation as the main antagonist, probably because Wrong Organ devs were hiding the villain protagonists.

Ominous posters, a Polle monster chasing you, those ominous TV commercials glorifying working for a corporation, the fact that all this horror was over fucking tooth-rotting mouthwash. Really paints the picture of a corporate horror or conspiracy a la “Time to Orbit: Unknown,” where every chapter unveils a new corporate conspiracy for money and power.

but instead, in mouthwashing, the capitalist aspects are merely plot devices to explore the horror surrounding mismanagement and its consequences.

A power tripping coworker and an enabling manager who got him the job. An eager-to-please kid and an established supervisor willing to take advantage. Flaws in how the hierarchy is decided, leading to the one person who shouldn’t have had power getting the power. Lack of sensitivity training (or whatever that’s called) surrounding things like Title IX concerns, such as the uneven gender dynamics or what to do in the event of a crime or the fact that the person doing the psych evals isn’t getting any evals.

Notice that none of these things are unique to capitalism, they’re issues you’d have to plan for in any workplace/organization, whether that be socialist or capitalist or whatever. The capitalism exacerbates the issues or catalyzes the consequences of them like a plot device, but the issues don’t originate from there.

For example: the lack of any woman other than Anya.

Yes, this was most likely exacerbated by late stage capitalism understaffing to cut corners, leading to skeleton crews, but that the crew we DO have is mostly male is more related to misogyny or gender roles.

Perhaps women don't want to work on these freighters because of the danger of being trapped in a confined space with men. Maybe the jobs required for these freighters, like mechanic or pilot, are male-dominated. Or maybe the hiring manager had a bias where they viewed men as more competent, etc. The fact of the matter is that the cause is the same when you dig down deep into it: misogyny.

Or the layoff. The laying off of the crew is its own form of evil, but its consequences aren’t the ones being explored within this story. Most of the crew die of the horrors within the ship before they ever have to face it. In fact, the horrors within the ship don't really even have anything to do with the layoff at all. It’s a bit of a red herring.

Rather, the actual cause of this game’s horror is the mismanaged fallout of Jimmy’s assault. Most obviously in that scene where we see Curly for the first time, wherein Curly doesn’t take Anya’s safety concerns seriously, even when Jimmy is actively threatening to make everyone disappear so neither of them have to face the consequences of the assault.

I initially misread that scene as Curly evilly conspiring to let Jimmy crash the ship so neither of them would take the fall, hence us finally seeing Curly's “true face.” Because I read what Jimmy said as inherently threatening and serious, I thought Curly had agreed to that awful plan and only got cold feet at the last minute.

It’s only from reading other comments that I realized Curly had most likely assumed Jimmy was blowing hot air and needed to cool down in that scene. Or that he was making an inappropriate joke akin to his 'sexually attracted to cartoon horses' thing and wasn't being serious. Curly didn’t realize Jimmy was actually talking about a real plan until it was too late stop it (makes me wonder if Jimmy was actually attracted to the horse, too).

Thus, it goes from a story about corner-cutting late stage capitalist megacorps to a story about cartoonishly evil, power-tripping men to a story about how we enable these men with failures in our system.

Much like how the beginning of the game, when Jimmy crashes the ship, a failure in the safety systems is what allows the crash to happen (Seriously? One pilfered key is all you need to send your ship into a crash?), a series of social safety nets had to have failed to let him into the cockpit in the first place. The true face is not Curly conspiring to crash the ship out of cowardice and greed, but his inability to face what his friend has done.

[slowd1ving]

Hi! If you're not taking reqs then feel free to ignore this but could you write Kim dokja angst? Maybe we're switching the roles and the reader is dying instead of dokja for once lmao

HOUSE OF CARDS ゜・KIM DOKJA

"A house made of cards, like the fools we are." In which a gambler finally pays the price for his bet. never actually written angst so I hope this is good enough anon art creds to kim28_dokja on twt! pairings: kim dokja + gn reader warnings: blood, injury, death, references to child abuse/dokja's past wc: 2.4k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Dokja is shit at games. 

It’s clear to the dealer. Even on the best day, those omnipotent palms that allocate fate will grow clammy (which they never do) and that ever-present smile slowly turns into a profound grimace. They know. They feel it instinctually, on a cellular level: that hand was terrible. 

It’s clear to the people around him. The salaryman stumbles into the building as though he’s just learned to walk: in never-polished shoes, slacks that perpetually crease further with each nervous wipe of his hands, and the clinging scent of smoke that preludes his entrance. He’s not got his life together, they observe, behind stony poker faces he can never quite master. That’s why he’s here.

Most of all, it’s clear to Kim Dokja himself. Every irregular heartbeat pulses in his throat as he gazes at his cards—two seven offsuit. In his sweat-streaked fingers is the short straw urging him to enlist. On the table before him are all his chess pieces, lined up neatly: spectators to the constant check, his inevitable downfall. 

Despite his atrocious luck, the thin red string binding him to this world never quite severs. A fire befalls the casino. A bullet embeds itself in the shell of his helmet and not a hair further. The chess game is postponed by a phone call and the poignant sound of shattering glass—and Dokja is left to shoulder the limbo of an unfinished game.

He’s shit at games, but never truly loses. 

Is it simply up to chance? A coin is tossed into the air: another foolish plan devised, another chip placed that equates to one of his lives. Crisis after crisis—Dokja, that harbinger of misfortune—yet each time, he resurrects. He bets on it, in fact: quite literally gambling away everything. 

It is just how things are. He cuts corners. He smooth-talks the fates into letting his transgressions slide just a little longer. For once, he’s winning, and the grand prize is something beyond his wildest dreams—an ending, to mark the indefinite uncertainty of chapters that seem to grow like nebulae. 

“Dokja.” It’s a sigh each time when he defies the end. Anyone else would interpret it as exasperation, but he likes to think he knows you better than that; it’s relief you greet him with, no matter how many times he sacrifices himself. “You idiot.”

It’s nice to know his long-time friend cares about him. 

No matter how many times he places his bets, the value of his life never seems to deprecate for you. Sacrifice is something you’d rather avoid (so does he, but it cannot always be helped, right?). If Dokja’s life can be used to save more of the people he cares about, all the better. 

In fact, he’d rather keep you away from any front line. 

There’s a story of its own between the two of you: years of scraped knees and violence, of gazing up at your shoulders while you bruise your knuckles with whoever bruised his eye, of friendship pacts forged with spat-on palms and corded bracelets. 

Your very soul is entwined with his scrawny one from years past, and it’s always been the case that yours has fought the battles in his stead. ‘Why?’ he’d once asked, and he still vividly remembers the cool response you attempted to give, only to end up fumbling the words. 

Because I can. Because I want to. Because you deserve it. 

It’s his turn to repay his debts. These fights are no longer about a bloodied mouth and spitting red onto the asphalt. They don’t end with bruised ribs and broken noses. 

You sit out. This one, he thinks grimly, is his fight—one that will guarantee both you and him turning the page on ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼. Every factor has been considered. Each risk is carefully mitigated at the expense of himself. None of the contingencies fail to prioritise his oldest friend. 

These are chips he cannot afford to bet on. 

Naturally, he keeps them close to his chest. 

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

His friends know it all too well. Those disbelieving laughs they let out, their fists clenching and unclenching as they debate whether to hit him across the head—Dokja, the herald of despair, he is—and finally the rush of words leaving their mouths like air deflating from a balloon: “Never do that again.”

All in, his chips go—each and every time. There is no other way about it: not unless you shackled Dokja to you in vain to make him listen—to stop the endless deaths he goes through. Over and over, until you feel his mind wear into recklessness, until you see the emptiness that taints his eyes as he slips into quiet contemplation.

How will Dokja die this time?

You’d rather erode into nothingness than clip his wings, though. That book he gushed about to you (syllables rushing over themselves in his excitement each update) gave him back his life—if you ruin his painstaking ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼, you don’t think you could forgive yourself.

Even if he’s ratcheting to Icarian heights. Those feathers of his are beginning to streak wax-hot down man-made frames, made of pages upon pages of a book obsolete to all but one dedicated reader. 

You think he can see the pain in your eyes, before he turns away with lips pressed together tightly. You’ll be safe, he reassured you. You’ve got me. I’ll create an epilogue for you to witness. 

Dokja’s changed. 

Those scrawny shoulders have become something that the very sky settles on: ones that no longer shake behind your own arms. The world has bruised you, and Dokja shall bruise it back. Every favour, repaid tenfold. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He’s still got the same facade of the boy you’ve called your oldest friend. If it weren’t for that, you’d think the man who coldly settles his death were a stranger. Someone you never shook hands with, childishly grimacing at the remains of a spat-upon pact rubbing into small palms. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He thinks he no longer causes misfortune with each risk he takes—as if his life were a mere trifle, as if each shred of news about him doesn’t shatter your heart over and over. 

When will it end? 

You haven’t seen him for months. 

Is it finally time to grieve?

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

It seems you are too. He turns the page of his book, and beside him the house of cards is carefully stacked on the glass table. It’s a precarious matter: high stakes against yourself, an unsafe tightrope that threatens to give way any moment now. 

Your eyes meet his. 

Like magic, the house collapses. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

You take a deep breath, and begin organising what could be the final legacy of Dokja. It’s something he treasured even over his life, evidently: the ending, which you allow into your soul in the Kim Dokja-shaped hole left behind. 

It’s the first time you take a gamble: carefully picking up the shards of his ideas while rivulets of blood run down your fingers. It’s your turn. 

The battlefield in the scenarios is a sanctuary: white noise washing out Dokja’s ever-persistent voice in your head. There’s a perpetual, acrid smell of ash and smoke—a reek that is far better than the dust of buildings Dokja leaves you behind in. 

It’s hard. 

Gambling is not for you; in the sense that it sickens you, rather than just invoking disaster like it does for Dokja. The only good thing about it is that Dokja’s dream is finally being realised—a tribute to your oldest, dearest friend. Like funerary wine, metallic iron fills your mouth (a once-familiar taste) with each battle, every step closer to the story Dokja wove for you. A fabric so salient you couldn’t help but be entangled in it. 

I can do it. That is your gamble. 

You do it. 

You cut down monsters the size of buildings. You cling to life with bleeding fingernails, scraped raw with tenacity. Tentatively, you begin fleshing in the husk of yourself: talking with the friends you made in the apocalypse once more.

And like Dokja, you begin defying death. 

It starts off small—an arrow that you saw coming but didn’t feel like dodging. Jung Heewon almost blew a gasket when she took a glimpse, but then her eyes met yours—filled with the same distance that Dokja’s were, as though you too were peering through an impersonal screen—and she looked away for a brief moment. 

“Idiot,” she whispers. “Don’t treat yourself like Dokja.”

Your chips pile up. 

Except, you don’t quite have the same privilege that your dearest friend has. 

You will incur the cost, rather than somebody else. There is a reason Dokja is called a harbinger of ill fortune to others, and you are not. In the end, your downfall will be at your own hand. 

“Fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk grimaces as he cuts down a wolf you let claw your arm. The coppery stench is thick in the air, but there seems to be a manic grin on your face as you slice and chop and stab: a madness that slowly spreads like illness through your body. “There is nothing more worthless than sacrifice without cause.”

The debt accrues. 

Kim Dokja dreams of your knuckles, bloodied once more as you stand to face the world. But, it’s just a dream. 

He bets on it. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

Bitter, arterial blood congeals on your hands as you try in vain to staunch the flow. There is nothing quite as caustic as the realisation that you fucked up, because now all the signs of your hamartia are clear. 

The house has long collapsed—it’s that final card that still hasn’t hit that glass table yet. 

Is this what Dokja feels? The thought runs wonderingly through your sluggish mind. Is it what he felt, you mean to say, but your throat grows thick whenever you speak about him in the past tense. You can’t quite accept the reality that he’s gone. The shock anaesthetises your mind: cradling your neurons with such gentleness that it’s hard to conceptualise you’re about to follow him to wherever he’s gone. 

Will I see him again?

Everything reeks of iron: from the massive corpse on the ground, to the claw impaled through your abdomen. It was inevitable. You’ve grown tired of the endless fight, and it’s cost you dearly. 

Your chest heaves desperately. 

Dokja. 

“Dokja,” you croak, collapsing onto the rubble freshly decimated. Despite the rough surface, your blood-slicked hands scrabble for purchase on the concrete—something that doesn’t quite feel like you’re the one puppeteering your strings. 

Deliriously, you watch as the same hand urgently attempts to apply pressure to your wound; it goes against rationality, but then again you’re not really yourself anymore. 

“Dokja?” you try again. Perhaps if you speak loudly enough—syllables soaked with sanguine that dribbles from your lips—you’ll be able to reach your dead best friend. 

There is a pressure behind your eyes. 

It may be tears; it may be an unwelcome guest in your head. 

It’s too late, you think. He’s dead, and soon I will be too. 

“Dokja,” you whisper, and there is salt on your tongue as you feel your limbs grow colder. Everything hurts—your pounding head, the thrum of your pulse as you marr the asphalt with crimson, and finally that stupid bleeding heart of yours that swears you can hear the spirit of your oldest friend. 

You can’t die, you think he says—a quiet scream drowned out by the static of your mind. 

“I’ll see you soon, though,” you slur, and the weight in your mind lifts—blurring and coalescing into a mirage you could recognise blind. 

Frigid fingers pass through the hologram, and you smile, bittersweet. 

“Dokja,” you breathe. “It’s been almost a year since I last saw you.”

His hands grasp your shoulders desperately, though his frantic mouth goes unheard upon your ears. You… can’t… die, his lips read—but that’s silly, you think. Doesn’t he want you to meet him again?

Horns curve out of his head, while his wings fluff out—shoulders shaking, with an expression you’ve only seen once on his face before. Utmost grief, when he came soaked in congealed blood and a haunted look in his eyes: murmuring she killed him, over and over. 

He’s your best friend. He was your best friend. 

Kim Dokja has lost his final gamble, and the bullet in the chamber has finally been spun into place for you too. 

“I can see you soon, right?” you murmur—there are cold fingers brushing against your forehead, and you think death is unexpectedly gentle. 

His lips wobble. 

Incorporeal fingers trace the tear tracks on your face—ones that mirror the slow stream of salt from his own eyes. You didn’t even notice—too caught up in the gradual greyness that spreads through each vessel, weaving through sinew and bone and brain. 

“I did a good job, right?” Your sword rests across the ground, heavy after almost a year of fighting. “Maybe it’ll help with the ending that you wanted.”

Dokja’s face crumples, and you can feel your own throat growing thick. Dokja, I’m scared, you want to admit. For the first time in your life, there’s a choking fear that grips you as the red surrounding you blooms into a field. 

Your own wings are rapidly coming apart. 

“Dokja, I don’t want to die,” you mumble. Struggling, you curl and uncurl your hands into fists, but you can no longer feel them. 

“Dokja,” you try again. You can no longer see him, but whether it’s from the salt clouding your vision, or the haze of limbo, you cannot tell. 

There is a phantom pressure that lingers on your face. 

“Dokja,” you gurgle, mouth iron-hot with arterial blood. “Don’t leave me alone—please.”

No response is given, but that sepulchral presence seems to remain—this time, those hands brush and cradle your face. 

You cannot tell if it’s him or death itself, but you don’t think death would kiss you like that. 

As if he could possibly breathe life back into you, his ghostly lips move against yours. Desperately, so urgently you half-wonder at his panic. 

Dokja, you want to ask. You’re already dead, right?

Right? 

With the final scraps of your vision, you watch as he pulls back—his tears pattering across your face—watch as his mouth moves for a final time.

I can’t live without you.

But by then, it is too late.

The words go unheard, and Dokja is alone once again.

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.  “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

-

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion. 

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.” 

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes. 

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.” 

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.” 

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t. 

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed. 

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from. 

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying. 

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

– 

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well. 

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says. 

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming. 

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself. 

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly. 

Damn him. 

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.” 

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully. 

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time. 

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled. 

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car. 

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is hers entirely. 

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door. 

“Hey–” 

“Sorry, my room is here.” 

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?” 

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside. 

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year. 

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious. 

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you. 

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan. 

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is. 

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer. 

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him. 

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat. 

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit tighter than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still). 

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.” 

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his. 

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking. 

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle. 

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.” 

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed. 

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.” 

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.” 

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous. 

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!” 

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.” 

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room. 

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room. 

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy. 

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for. 

But you’re fucking terrified. 

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan. 

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you. 

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try. 

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve. 

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.” 

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft. 

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him. 

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.” 

You frown. “What’s your point?” 

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.” 

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger. 

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.” 

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying. 

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh. 

“Touché.” 

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so raw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve. 

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him. 

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment. 

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place. 

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot. 

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now. 

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo. 

“I just want to be loved.” 

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you. 

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now. 

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him. 

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love. 

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand. 

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested. 

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are  closer than the average friends, regardless of gender. 

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more. 

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically. 

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion. 

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions. 

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?” 

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

– 

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up. 

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you. 

Dustin confessing about Dart. 

Locking the Demodog in your cellar. 

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response. 

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve. 

Dart going missing. 

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night. 

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.  

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it. 

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip. 

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee. 

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.” 

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.” 

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide. 

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?” 

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes. 

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store. 

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother. 

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?” 

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet. 

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.” 

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?” 

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him. 

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive. 

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?” 

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. 

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!” 

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.” 

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure. 

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are. 

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.” 

“But–” 

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready. 

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy. 

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says. 

Steve scowls at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–” 

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money. 

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car. 

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him. 

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting. 

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop. 

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news. 

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before. 

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night. 

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?” 

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.” 

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively. 

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?” 

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble. 

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel. 

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you. 

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.” 

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, Jesus!” 

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.” 

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade. 

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?” 

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.” 

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself. 

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves. 

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile. 

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you. 

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say. 

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands. 

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him. 

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel. 

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at. 

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party. 

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago. 

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house. 

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles. 

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you. 

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.” 

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks. 

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live. 

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down. 

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares. 

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat. 

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.” 

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him. 

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now. 

You guys had one emotional conversation. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for. 

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?” 

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment? 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk. 

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.” 

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!” 

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–” 

“Says you,” you butt in. 

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car. 

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now. 

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him. 

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused. 

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat. 

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year. 

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place. 

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene. 

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.” 

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.” 

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait. 

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment. 

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.” 

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts. 

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. 

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens. 

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?” 

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles. 

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.” 

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.” 

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” 

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles. 

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.” 

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.” 

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.” 

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?” 

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always. 

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back. 

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks. 

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.” 

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off. 

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies. 

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies. 

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure. 

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party. 

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.” 

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly. 

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy. 

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life. 

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues. 

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways. 

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.” 

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.” 

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you. 

“Well, isn’t that ominous.” 

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin. 

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait. 

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?” 

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?” 

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up. 

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.” 

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?” 

“Because you’re terrible with girls.” 

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.” 

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” 

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.” 

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.” 

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze. 

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.” 

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.” 

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him. 

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.” 

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.” 

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully). 

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence. 

– 

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday. 

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed. 

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys. 

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl. 

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit. 

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas. 

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well. 

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better. 

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers. 

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness. 

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you. 

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins. 

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise. 

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at. 

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps. 

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive. 

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base. 

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus. 

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours. 

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?” 

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon. 

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one. 

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them. 

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat. 

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab. 

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus. 

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual. 

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” 

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range. 

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up. 

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose. 

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dustin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window. 

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you. 

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard. 

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds. 

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down. 

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him. 

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve. 

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does. 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart. 

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work. 

It has to work. 

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat. 

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him. 

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave. 

Steve saved your life last year. 

Now it’s your turn. 

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering. 

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle. 

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you. 

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve. 

Well, at least the live bait plan is working. 

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars. 

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you. 

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart. 

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear. 

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own. 

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon. 

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs. 

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there. 

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well. 

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges. 

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run. 

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear. 

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!” 

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door. 

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body. 

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth. 

Awesome. Cool. 

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her. 

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you. 

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever. 

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting. 

“Never been better,” you wheeze out. 

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual. 

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs. 

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more. 

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams. 

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you. 

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away. 

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day. 

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours. 

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” 

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left. 

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you. 

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you. 

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.” 

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.” 

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps. 

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy. 

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further. 

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety. 

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group. 

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into. 

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.” 

-

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[themostlesbianever]

College AU Sevika x reader chapter 3

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for having y'all wait for so long😔 I was busy with Christmas prep and then Christmas.

I will be trying to post more frequently but im not promising anything.

Thanks for all the support so far🙏🙏 Enjoy!

more parts

(This is semi-proofread, its nearly 3 am and im tired, but i wanted to give you the next chapter)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks have passed and you’re settling into the college routine nicely, struggling here and there but still, nicely. You and Sevika have been getting closer as well, you would even go so far as to call her a friend. You don’t see her all the time because she’s busy with schoolwork, friends and extracurriculars. Just like you. After a day or 2 you had found out she plays rugby which was understandable with the way she was built. She also frequents the campus gym, lifting impressive amounts of weight while making it look easy.

You’re sitting on your bed reviewing some sheet music, you had always been a bit of a band kid, trying out a bunch of instruments before finally settling on the trumpet. You signed up for band at college and managed to get in. Together with, obviously, Ekko, who plays the drums. Sevika is also sitting on her bed but she’s on her phone. You glance over at her, it looks like she's texting someone.

Then the corner of her mouth lifts up slightly. “What are you smiling at?” you ask, the sudden noise makes her smile drop and her gaze move over to you. “Nothing” she replies, clearly lying. You raise one brow at her and tilt your head slightly, making her rethink her answer.

“Okay fine, so there's this girl an-”. She stops talking when she sees your facial expression change from interested to surprised. “You like women?” you question, and now it's her turn to look surprised. “Was that” she pauses for a second. “Was that not obvious?” she asks, a hint of confusion in her voice.

You simply blink at her and shrug your shoulders. You tell her to continue and she lets out a small chuckle before doing just that. “Well this girl, Rose, slid into my dm’s complimenting one of my photo dumps and we started talking. And now we're kind of flirting, I guess.” A small smile starts to creep onto her lips as she speaks.

“And she’s like, SO pretty oh my god” she continues. “Does she go here?” you ask and she nods. “Anyways” she mumbles, trying to shift the attention off of herself and onto you. You’ve noticed she does that a lot, she doesn’t like talking about herself and is quite closed off. She has been opening up a tiny bit to you as you’ve gotten to know each other. A little fun fact here, a random memory there. It’s been nice.

“What have you been staring at for the past like, hour?” she asks and you sigh before speaking. “It’s the new music we got for band. It's incredibly annoying to play and I have to memorize it.” She furrows her brows a bit. "Wait." She pauses and looks at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re a band kid?” You can’t help but be slightly offended.

“Why do you say that like it's a bad thing? I’ll have you know, I'm very cool” You say while pointing your index finger at her. “Oh I believe that, don’t worry.” She chuckles. “What instrument do you play?” You proudly tell her you play the trumpet which she admits is quite impressive.

She then gets up from her bed, walking over to you and grabbing the music sheets from your hand. Her eyes scan the paper, the more she reads the more her brows furrow, after about a full minute of her looking at the sheets in silence, she looks up at you and speaks. “what the fuck.” You laugh at that.

“Exactly what I’m thinking” you say. “How do you read that shit, seriously?” She asks and gives the pieces of paper back to you. “Oh I've been playing for years, I started with lessons. At first I was actually learning, I learned all the grips and notes, how to hold it correctly, bla bla bla. But then it became learning and memorizing random songs I didn’t care about. So I quit. Just the lessons tho, I never stopped playing.” You explain.

She listens intently, nodding along as you ramble on about your many teachers, performances, friends you had made along your musical journey and how you had begged your mum for your very own trumpet. Quitting lessons also meant having to give back the trumpet they had given to you. Well, not really given, your mum had to pay a monthly fee for lessons and said trumpet.

After a little while you realise you’ve been rambling and apologise. “Oh I’m sorry, I talk a lot” you say quietly. The room suddenly feels very warm, your face heating up in embarrassment. “You’re fine dude” Sevika says. “It’s very entertaining, so don’t worry. You can talk however much you like.” She offers you a soft smile. You smile back and thank her.

Somewhere during your ramble she sat back down on her own bed and leaned back against the wall. She still sits there unmoving, just looking at you in silence, it’s a comfortable silence that the both of you sit in for a bit before you remember you should really be studying this music and look back down at the sheets.

After a while of reviewing your sheets, practicing changing the grips by pretending you’re playing and counting how long you have to be silent for before you have to start playing again, you have had enough. You inhale deeply and breathe out in the form of a sigh. Sevika looks up at you, a questioning look in her eyes. You hold the sheets up and she chuckles.

You hop off your bed and pull out a binder from one of the bed drawers, placing the music sheets neatly where they belong before closing it and putting it back inside the drawer. Then Sevika speaks. “You said you own a trumpet, did you take it with you for band? Or do you get one from the school”. You turn back around and rest your hips against the wooden frame of your bed, facing Sevika who is still sitting on hers.

“I think there's an option to rent an instrument from the school but I took my own with me, I just prefer it over a random trumpet. Not that they’d be super different from each other but you know. Plus it was possible they wouldn’t even have one for me.” You answered. She simply nods before asking to see your trumpet.

You agree and walk over to your closet, where you store your trumpet, and take it out. You put the storage case on your bed and unclasp it, opening the lid and stepping aside so Sevika can see. She gets off her bed and steps over to the open case. She reaches one of her hands out, glancing over at you as if to ask for permission to touch it. You nod and she runs her fingers over the cold instrument.

“It’s quite pretty” she says and you let out a small huff of air that could be considered a laugh. “It’s really not Sevika. It’s old and it's not as clean as it used to be” you admit and she shrugs. “I think it's pretty.” You’re about to tell her your old trumpet really isn’t that special when you hear a knock at the door.

Sevika walks over and opens the door slightly to see who’s knocking, she opens it all the way when she sees its Ekko. He steps inside. “Dude, do you ever read your texts?” he questions. You shoot him a confused look, he sighs. “Sorry dude, I was reviewing the new music. You are aware we’re supposed to start memorizing it. right?” you ask him, genuinely wondering if he had listened to the given instructions.

“Of course I’m aware” he says while rolling his eyes at you. “Anyway I wanted to ask if you wanted to get lunch. But you weren’t replying so I decided to come over before our possible lunch plans turned into dinner plans” he says, then he looks at you with a disappointed look on his face. “I thought of that amazing joke and I don’t even get a smile? Rude”

“It really wasn’t that funny” you tell him and he rolls his eyes again. Then he looks at Sevika, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Don’t bring me into this.” She says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Fine, but do you wanna get lunch or not?” He asks, looking back at you again. You nod before turning to Sevika. “You wanna come with us” you ask. “Sure why not,” she shrugs. You close the trumpet case and put it back in your closet. “Lets go then.”

____________________________________________

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[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SEVEN: INHIBITION (OR LACK THERE OF)

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SUMMARY ↳ The three C's (carnival, chaos, and cuddle pollen). Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words. "In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Fuck. Your. Life. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: mentions of having sex (as a joke/none is actually had), cuddle pollen (kind of non-con cuddling and kissing, but reader really doesn't mind) wc: 4.4k

Nari wakes you up by screeching in your ear. You groan and roll over, snatching him up and gently throwing him off the bed. You sit in bed and contemplate if you really have to get up and function as a normal person, but alas, you do. Grabbing your phone, your eyes widen a tad. Jesus, you slept till ten? Good thing it’s the weekend.

You have the day off from work, so it’s up to you to find something to do. You feed Nari, making sure to give him a bunch of apologetic kisses. Maybe you’ll swing by the Den today. It won’t hurt to work some more on the badassium.

You groan and stretch, doing some warm-up exercises. Nari perches on your back as you do push ups. He weighs nothing, but it’s the thought that counts. Karen pipes up from your laptop.

“I’ve done you the liberty of adding Victoria’s contact info on your phone.”

You release a fond sigh. “Bit of a meddler, are you?”

“I am simply saving us time.” You snort. You grab your phone, changing Victoria’s name and shoot her a text.

sugar mommy

whats good how we doing

i dont need anything just wanted to say hi

also its [name] btw

Her response comes a minute later.

[Name]???

How did you get my number?

karen did

shes kind of my guy in the chair

does all the super cool behind the scenes stuff yknow how it is

I thought I was your ‘guy in the chair’

fym ur my sugar mommy

Her only response is a money bag emoji, making you chuckle. She’s got personality and it makes you smile. A knock at the door catches your attention. Probably May coming to make sure you’re not dead. She’s gotten used to leaving early now. The lock clicks as you open the door.

Oh, it’s not May. It’s Jon .

“Jon!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, a friendly one. “Hi, [Name]. I was just visiting Dami, but he seems to be in a mood… so I was wondering if we could hang out?” he asks, hopeful. “If that’s okay with you?”

You coo internally. You’ll never get over how sweet he is. “Yeah, of course. Just text me next time, yeah?”

He nods, stepping inside as you open the door for him. Nari trots over to him and rubs against his ankles. “What time did you get up? I don’t think Metropolis is that close to GC.” You feel a little evil, putting him on the spot because you know he flew here.

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Six, maybe?” he winces, hoping that answer makes sense. You don’t have it in you to do the mental calculations so early in the morning, so you nod. You wouldn’t actually out him like that, anyway.

“Got any ideas are we just gonna have hot sex the whole day?”

Jon, to his credit, only lightly blushes. He’s long gotten used to your sense of humor. “There’s that carnival that just opened.”

“Mmm, maybe later. Carnivals always look better when it’s dark.”

“Then…” he thinks, “...let’s just go for a walk. See what we find.”

You grab your keychain with far too many charms on it and your other essentials, hooking your arm in Jon's. “Lead the way.”

May doesn’t have any outward reaction save for a knowing look as you exit the building. You squint your eyes at her in response. The noise of the city greets you as you walk out. People around you go on with their days, each living their own complex life.

It’s silent for a moment as the two of you walk. You take the moment to just think for a moment. You thought life was crazy when you found out you had crazy spider powers, but then you turned it around and made it into something good. You thought life was crazy when you got asked to officially join the avengers, but then you found a family in them. You thought life was crazy when you found out about the ‘spider verse’, but from that you realized you weren’t alone. You should’ve known better than to think it couldn’t get any crazier than that, but here you are. Very far from home.

You just wonder what will come out of this .

“You’re quiet,” Jon notes, voice barely a murmur.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s not good,” he jokes. You scoff and consider flicking him, but it would probably hurt.

“Just thinking how hard it’ll be for Damian to look me in the eye the next time I see him.”

Jon raises a brow. “What�� happened between you and Damian? Is that why he was in a mood?”

“So crazy story, he walked in on me making out with my kind-of bully.” Jon’s eyes widen incredibly. His pace stutters and he chokes on air. You grin as you watch his flail. “Making out might be generous, but it was pretty passionate.”

You continue, “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He genuinely stopped functioning for a sec! He’s a bigger virgin than I thought. Or maybe it was just that it was with Tori of all people. It’s okay though, she’s not all that she seems.”

Jon stops walking altogether, accidentally yanking you to a stop as well. You blink at him.

“Ok…” he starts, “first of all, you kissed your bully?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, like I said, she's not all that she seems,” you shrug. He nods, still looking at you in disbelief.

“So… what? Are you guys… dating?” he hesitates to say the word.

You scratch your nose, looking down. “Nah… we talked it out, she uh…” you trail off, “...it was a spur of the moment thing, we’re just friends. Now, anyway.” You feel bad saying you rejected the girl who was in love with you, but you also can’t say everything that went down.

You look at Jon, seeing him also looking down in thought. His brows are furrowed, you wonder how strange it is to Damian if it’s so strange to Jon. He nods after a bit, continuing his walk. His arm holds yours a bit tighter.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he laughs disbelievingly.

Probably because this isn’t your universe. “Probably because I’m so awesome all kinds of people want a piece of me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” you grin.

For as drab as Gotham City is, at least this carnival provides a little bit of color. The vibrant lights provide an enchanting atmosphere. You can’t help but grin. Jon watches you with a smile.

“What do you want to do first?”

“Pie eating contest.”

He blinks. “Okay?” He’s a little confused by your quick and confident reply. Now don’t be alarmed, you usually eat three meals a day. The meals are just… well, some might argue if they’re actually meals or not. Tony estimated that you should be eating five proper meals a day to combat your increased metabolism. You’re not starving or anything as you are now, but if you ever get injured your increased healing won’t help.

“I wanna eat,” is your only explanation as you drag him to the stand.

Jon chuckles as you drag him along, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he smiles, matching your energy. The two of you approach the stand where a small crowd has gathered around a makeshift stage. A lively carnival barker stands at the front, rallying contestants and spectators alike.

“Step right up, folks! Who’s got what it takes to be the pie-eating champion of Gotham tonight?” the man announces enthusiastically, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

You and Jon sign up eagerly, taking your places at the contestant table. The rules are simple: eat as much pie as you can within a set time limit. The pies, piled high with whipped cream and fruity filling, look delectable under the carnival lights.

The contest begins, and you and Jon dig in with gusto. The pies are delicious, each bite bringing a burst of sweet flavor. The crowd cheers and laughs as you both devour your way through the pies, alternating between bites and glances at each other, each trying to outpace the other.

Jon manages to finish his first pie just as you’re halfway through yours. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, grinning at you challengingly. “You’re pretty good at this,” he remarks between bites.

You flash him a competitive smirk, determined not to be outdone. “I eat a lot,” you quip back, mouth full of pie.

The contest continues, the pace quickening as the time ticks down. Cheers and encouragement from the crowd spur you on, adding to the thrill of the competition. Despite the messiness and the rapidly filling sensation in your stomach, you keep going, driven by the desire to win and the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

Finally, the timer buzzes, signaling the end of the contest. You and Jon set down your forks, breathing heavily but grinning broadly at each other. The man approaches to determine the winner.

“And the winner is…” he declares dramatically, waiting. After a tense moment, he announces, “It’s a tie!”

You and Jon exchange a look of surprise and then burst into laughter, both of your mouths covered in pie and thoroughly satisfied. The crowd applauds, appreciating the spirited effort you both put into the contest. You fancy yourself smug, seeing as you kept up with a kryptonian.

Jon wipes his hands and face with a napkin, chuckling as he looks at you. "I can't believe we tied," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

You nod, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I can’t believe you kept up with me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

The man hands each of you a small prize—a colorful ribbon that declares you both "Pie Eating Champions of Gotham City Carnival". You both accept the ribbons with good humor, pinning them onto your shirts proudly.

As you step away from the contest table, Jon nudges you playfully. "So, what's next on our carnival adventure?"

You glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling carnival. The vibrant lights of the rides beckon in the distance, and the aroma of cotton candy and popcorn fills the air. "Let's hit the Ferris wheel," you suggest, pointing towards the towering structure adorned with sparkling lights.

Jon nods eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he says, grabbing your hand as you make your way towards the Ferris wheel.

The line isn’t too long. The worker wishes you a good ride as the two of you step into the brightly colored gondola, slowly ascending to the sky.

As the ride reaches its peak, you both fall silent for a moment, taking in the view. The city skyline looms in the distance, a stark contrast to the colorful and carefree world of the carnival. For a brief moment, you feel a sense of peace and contentment, grateful for this simple yet memorable night with Jon. 

"This is nice," Jon remarks, leaning back comfortably in his seat. You nod in agreement, admiring the view.

Jon looks at you, thinking. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to admit to you. He wonders how you would react to each and every one of them. With only positivity, he’s sure. You’re the type to go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. He’s certain he could trust you with his life, eventually.

He takes a deep breath, unsure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “[Name]–”

The Ferris wheel rocks violently for a heart stopping moment. For the other riders, mostly. You and Jon immediately stiffen to attention, because Ferris wheels aren’t supposed to do that. Jon crosses over to you, locking you in his embrace as he looks over the edge. You try to look as well, but a simple tense of his arms prevents you.

A threatening green is making headway across the carnival grounds, sending people running. Vines bloom, crawling over stands and attractions. Poison Ivy, looking as prickly as ever, strides in gracefully.

"This carnival is a blight on this land," Ivy declares, her voice carrying over the chaos. "You trample on nature for your own amusement, but no longer. Tonight, the Earth fights back."

Oh, great. You can’t do anything because you’re stuck in the air with Jon. Jon can’t do anything because he’s stuck in the air with you. You sigh, leaning back against him.

With a wave of her hand, flowers bloom amidst the destruction, a stark contrast to the panic around her. Ivy's plants begin to dismantle the carnival, reclaiming the area for nature. Her message is clear: the environment will no longer be taken for granted, and anyone who harms it will face her wrath. Vines crawl up the Ferris wheel, wrapping around the gondolas in a nightmarish display.

“Um. Any bright ideas?” you ask Jon.

He says pulling out his phone, he pulls it out of your view and begins to type furiously. You bet a hundred bucks it’s Damian and Jon is furiously texting him to haul ass and get here now .

A vine thrusts itself into the box, making Jon yank you both to the floor in the middle. It spreads slowly, hauntingly, slowly encompassing the gondola. Flowers bloom… ah shit—

Jon shifts the two of you, blocking you from the flowers. Also putting himself directly in front of them. “Jon don’t–” you warn, because regardless of his heritage, it can still affect him. Even more so since he’s only half. He presses your face into his chest right as the flower coughs, releasing the spores right in his face.

“Don’t breathe them in,” he growls. Thanks, you weren’t planning on it anyway. You hold your breath, anyway.

He’s getting antsy. “[Name],” he mutters gravely. “Please. Close your eyes and trust me.”

You internally sigh, preparing how you’re going to act like the most aloof fool after this. You nod and close your eyes. Jon picks you up, arms under your knees and around your back. You wind your arms around his neck and rest against his chest.

Jon, to his credit, doesn’t just fly down the ride. You feel him jump down the bars of the Ferris wheel, making sure to keep you secure in his arms. His landings are precise and calculated, avoiding the chaos below. You hear the gasps and shouts from the people around you as Jon navigates through the mess of vines.

Finally, you feel the solid ground beneath you as Jon gently sets you down. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says softly.

You open your eyes and find yourself standing amidst the carnage, the Ferris wheel towering above you. Vines continue to spread, and the air is filled with the panicked cries of carnival-goers trying to escape. Jon stands protectively beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Ivy.

“We have to stop her,” you blurt. He looks at you incredulously. You ignore it and look around, trying to find a way to do this without Spinnerette. Eyes narrowing, you spot something in the distance.

“There.” You point at a nearby water tower. “If we flood the area, it might disrupt her control over the plants.”

“Good plan. You should leave it to the professionals.”

You blink, turning around. It’s Robin who spoke, arms crossed and looking at you. However, it’s the sight of the 6’2 emo bitch dressed in a bat fursuit that makes you stiffen.

“Robin! You came!” Jon brightens, before coughing into his fist. “I mean. Of course you came, you’re Robin.” The urge to roll your eyes at his silliness is strong, but you resist.

Batman doesn’t react, though you’re sure he just sighed on the inside. “You should get to safety with the rest of the civilians,” he grumbles out in his Batman™ voice.

You nod rapidly. “Yup yup. Yessir Mr Batman.” You grip Jon’s wrist and drag him away. Fuck that, majorly. If he says leave it up to him, you’re perfectly fine with that. You’re pretty sure he’s gonna take what you said and connect some dots, and you don’t wanna be around when that happens. He can take his theories and shove it up his ass.

Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words.

"In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Fuck. Your. Life.

Jon is looking just a tad bit worse for wear (you’re lying, he looks haggard) when you arrive at your apartment. May, thank god, wasn’t at the desk, so you managed to get by without having to deal with that. You  shove Jon onto the couch, wincing with a small apology. Frantically typing, you google how to deal with cuddle pollen.

The number one suggestion is to visit Gotham General Hospital, but given Jon’s less than human nature, that's a no go. Other results suggest drinking lots of water and sweating it out to dilute its affects.

You throw your phone somewhere and quickly fetch some water for Jon. Nari meows at Jon, sensing something is wrong. When you make your way back you see that Jon has trapped Nari in his arms, cooing unintelligibly at him.

“Drink,” you tell him urgently, lifting his chin. He leans into your touch, obeying. You make sure he drinks every last drop. When he finishes you turn around to get some more water, only to be yanked back. You crash into Jon’s arms, watching as Nari trots away, happy to be free. You wish you were Nari right now.

Jon nuzzles into you, humming contently.

“Jon…” you warn.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums. Jesus.

“You’re under the effects of cuddle pollen. Your mind is scrambled. Just let me get you some water–”

He hugs you tighter at the mention of you leaving, standing up with you in his arms. You try to get free, holding your own for a bit. But alas, he wins. Stupid kryptonian biology. He carries you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You blink. “Okay, hang on–”

Jon belly flops right on top of you, earning an ‘oof’ from you. He wraps his arms around you, snuggling into your collarbone. He sighs in content as he relaxes on you. There’s no hope for you to escape, is there?

“Jon, come on. Let’s… do jumping jacks or something. Sweat it out of your system. You can even hold my hand!”

Jon grumbles, burying his face in your neck. “I know something else we can do to get sweaty.”

You blink. Then snort. Damn, is that the cuddle pollen talking or is your influence taking effect? You feel Jon smile against your neck.

Sighing, you acknowledge that you’re not getting out of this situation. You hesitantly rest your arms around him. You feel his grin get wider, and then he surprises you even further by laying a goddamn kiss against your neck. You grumble and mutter, “I am going to make fun of you so hard after this.”

Laying there, you think. If you didn’t just compromise yourself to Batman, then hopefully you won’t be approached when you next patrol. Or worse, when you're just being a regular civilian. 

You blink, deciding you’re gonna be a little shit.

“Jon,” you say, “give me your phone.”

Jon reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. It’s got a couple cracks in it, and his wallpaper features a photo of a sunset over a vast farm. You scroll through his contacts, clicking the one that says ‘damian !! (stinkin loser)’. You click the call button, hoping he’s done superheroing and has time to answer.

He answers on the third ring. “Jon, you fool, what were you–”

“Damian,” you interrupt before he says something you’re not supposed to know. The line goes quiet on the other end. “I’ll keep it brief. Jon got absolutely fucked over with a face-full of cuddle pollen and he won’t let me go. We’re at my apartment, so if you can pull some rich people strings and get an antidote or something I would very much appreciate it.”

“...He won’t let go of you?”

You roll your eyes and snap a picture of Jon wrapped around you. “Help,” is all you say after you send it.

You hear him sigh. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” is all you hear before the call cuts. Jon yanks the phone away from you, throwing it somewhere in the room as he flips the two of you over. You lay on his chest now, feeling his chin rest on your head and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips creeping up under your shirt.

Your phone is in the other room and you didn’t see where Jon threw his, so you’re left to stew in his arms until Damian comes. You begin to hum a song, for your own peace of mind, ignoring the way Jon’s hands rub your skin in a back-and-forth motion. Jon removes one of his hands and places it on the back of your head, pushing you into his neck. The bastard lays another kiss on your head, muttering comforting words.

Damn, you think you’re starting to fall asleep. Sue you for feeling safe in his arms, he’s literally Superboy. It doesn’t help that you're lying in bed and he's rubbing your back so softly you feel like he’s your boyfriend comforting you after a long day.

You hear your door kick open, and the only reason your fight response doesn’t kick in is because you’re still stuck in Jon’s arms, and because you know it’s Damian. Jon on the other hand, immediately sits up, glaring hard at your hallway. When Damian shows up in your doorway, bag in hand, he relaxes. He lies back down in the bed, snuggling in to you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

He ignores your weak greeting, digging into his bag and pulling out a syringe filled with what can only be the antidote. You pointedly make a note to definitely not mention how the needle is green.

“Just be careful he doesn’t grab you. He’s… really strong,” you mutter.

He grabs Jon’s head, pushing it aside to bare his neck. You’re surprised Jon lets him, but cuddle pollen does leave people without inhibition. Damian sticks the needle in, making Jon groan. You watch the fluid disappear, feeling peaceful knowing that this will soon be over. Damian finishes administering the antidote and takes a seat on the bed.

“Thanks for… coming through,” you say. You don’t know what else you can really talk about right now.

Damian just looks at you. “What were you even doing there?”

He means the carnival. You furrow your brows. “Hanging out? Sorry we didn’t predict that Poison Ivy was gonna be there. Maybe you should talk to Batman about that.”

“You could have been hurt. Jon did get hurt.”

“It’s just cuddle pollen, Dami,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grasps it tightly. “You gave him the antidote, he’s not hurt.”

Damian’s grip on your arm is firm, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky it was just that. It could have been worse.”

You nod, understanding his concern, but feeling a bit annoyed at the same time. “I know, I know. But we’re fine now. Jon’s going to be okay.”

Damian's expression softens slightly at your reassurance, though his concern is still evident. He looks at Jon, who seems to be coming out of the pollen's effects, his grip on you loosening. Damian then turns his attention back to you, his gaze intense.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks," he says, his voice low but firm. "Especially not with someone like Jon."

You raise an eyebrow at the implication in his tone. "Are you implying something about Jon?"

“Jon is… brave, but restless. Just be more cautious.”

You give him a playful smirk. "Are you worried about me, Damian Wayne? That's almost sweet."

He scowls slightly, clearly not amused by your teasing. "I'm serious, [Name]. This city is dangerous enough without getting caught up in avoidable situations."

“I promise to be more careful in the future,” you say, eyes earnest. It seems to settle Damian, for now.

Jon groans under you. He sits up, taking you with him. You fall to his lap as you look at him. He blinks for a moment, taking in his surroundings. You hear his heartbeat slowing, calming. He looks at Damian, looks at you. Stares at you, whom his arms are around, in his lap.

He freaks, shoving you out of his embrace and scrambling back. Damian catches you, growling, “You fool, Jon, careful!”

“I’m so sorry!” he cries. “I was… oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

You hold out your hands to placate him. “Jon, it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t care. You weren’t in control. You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have left when I got hit,” he growls to himself.

You sigh, looking at Damian for help. “What’s done is done. No use in whining about it now,” he huffs, shifting you to sit up.

Jon purses his lips, looking like he wants to cry. You open your arms, “Come on.”

He hesitates, so you grab him and haul him into your embrace. He stiffens, before wrapping his arms around you. He melts into your embrace.

Damian clears his throat, making Jon pull back with a sheepish expression. “I should really get home before my parents worry.”

You nod, patting his arm. “Of course.”

He thanks Damian as well on his way out. You don’t hear the door open, so you figure he just got antsy and couldn’t stay in the room longer. You don’t blame him. You sigh when you see he left his phone, grabbing it and handing it to Damian.

“Thank you,” you mutter. You look into his eyes, he looks back. In a moment of weakness, you place a hand on his cheek and lean in, pressing your lips to his other one. The kiss is chaste, barely lasting for a second before you pull back. “You’re paying for my door.”

Damian says nothing in response, simply watching you. He raises his hand, clasping yours and gently bringing it down. He nods.

“It was nothing.” And then he and Jon are out the door. You sigh, laying down in your bed that smells like Jon now. No patrol tonight, again.

notes: jon was about to risk it all on that ferris wheel just saying

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: december 2024

it's here, baby! the final reading roundup of 2024, and the last nine books I read!

what I read:

The Daughters of Izdihar (Hadeer Elsbai, 2023) - I really want to get back into my big chunky fantasy novel kick, and this was a fun one! I will fully admit I almost got turned off by the first chapter or two when the worldbuilding exposition and the fantasy feminism didn't quite sell me right away, but I stuck around and ultimately had a really good time. Daughters of Izdihar follows two young women from very different social classes, Nehal and Giorgina, who are navigating their lives amidst a burgeoning suffrage moment in an Egypt-inspired country. on top of the class and gender of it all, we have the extra element of "weaving," with weavers having the ability to exert influence over different classical elements - think bending, but legally distinct. Elsbai's weavers are a nice change of pace re: fantasy discrimination, being neither universally adored nor reviled but rather occupying a unique, often precarious niche in society that is most fraught for poor women like Giorgina. I found myself increasingly pulled in to the story and delighted to have found such a fun standalone, only to reach the wiiiiild cliffhanger ending and realize it was the first book of a duology this whole time. and apparently the sequel has been out since March of 2024? cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. add another one to the TBR!

Rejection (Tony Tulathimutte, 2024) - I read Tulathimutte's short story "The Feminist" YEARS AGO and have been a little haunted by it ever since, so I was stoked to hear that it had been incorporated into this collection of loosely interconnected short stories. "The Feminist" was striking in its ability to so viscerally capture the inner workings of a deeply unpleasant person whose brain has been absolutely scorched by the nastiest workings of the internet, but I hadn't seen ANYTHING yet. I posted about "Ahegao" here and still can't rave about it enough; it's a slow burn into utter absurdity that ends with a swift kick to the head. to say nothing of Tulathimutte weaving himself into the narrative of the book and, ultimately, rejecting himself, including as the final piece of the book a fictional rejection letter offering scathing criticism of the previous works. reading it made me feel lightheaded; this book is so nastily brilliant.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 13-14 (Ryoko Kui 2023-2024, trans. Taylor Engel) - god, what a great story. Kui builds such a rich and (god, pardon the pun) flavorful world, with so much nuance and texture given to every layer. you won't find any unquestioned reliance on old high fantasy tropes here; it feels as if Kui has truly turned over every stone in the genre to poke at and play with what lays underneath to make something original. the exploration of desire and hunger and the ways in which food itself fundamentally inextricable from life got me so so good, and I'm going to be so emo about Laois and Marcille's freak asses forever.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself (Onyi Nwabineli, 2024) - one of the only strikeouts of December, to me. the premise is compelling, following a British Nigerian woman in her 20s who is struggling to crawl out from beneath the shadow of being raised in the public eye by a white stepmother who turned her interracial family into fodder for a highly successful mommy blog, but ultimately it falls flat for me. the book feels unfocused and unsure, meandering around until it comes to an ending that is, frankly, far too tidy.

Funny Story (Emily Henry, 2024) - this romance novel has been topping a LOT of lists of 2024's best romances and even making appearances on lists of 2024's best books overall, so needless to say I was afraid of the hype. to my absolute shock and delight, Funny Story actually managed to live up to the praise and then some, turning the seemingly outlandish premise (a man and a woman become roommates after they're each unceremoniously dumped so their exes can elope, lie about dating each other, romance ensues) and make it sincerely charming. our protagonists, Daphne and Miles, are shockingly grounded for the leads of such an unlikely story, and navigate their grief and subsequent half-assed fake relationship in ways that feel winningly believable. Daphne shines as she learns to stand on her own outside of the certainty her former fiancee provided, and Miles would be the singular most fuckable man in any romance novel I've ever read if not for his unfortunate dedication to wearing crocs all the time.

The Uclaimed: Abandonment and Hope in the City of Angels (Pamela Prickett and Stefan Timmermans, 2024) - a surprisingly tender work of narrative nonfiction that explores the lives and deaths of four individuals whose bodies weren't claimed by any next of kin, and what ultimately became of them after. Prickett and Timmermans treat their subjects with incredible care, going to great pains to speak with those who cared for their subjects and depict them as full people with worthwhile lives, examining the families they lost and the systems that failed them as they found themselves alone at the ends of their lives. a great read if you want to get really emo OR really mad about how the United States' exceedingly narrow legal definition of family leaves so many people unprotected in times of need!

Him (Geoff Ryman, 2023) - yeah this is the trans!Jesus book I read on Christmas that isn't even really about Jesus being trans but is about Jesus being sort of a softcore eldritch nightmare man living the most confusing and inscrutable life that anyone had ever lived. I don't know if this book is particularly accurate to either the Bible or the Torah and I truly don't think it matters; Ryman is doing his own thing and I love his little freak Jesus. genuinely I'm obsessed with that guy, nothing has ever made me like Jesus as much as watching him have the most terrible time.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In (John Wiswell, 2024) - god this book is so charming and so fun and it's a romp in so many places. I do really truly adore our protagonist, Shesheshen, who's an curmudgeonly shapeshifting goo monster with a penchant for building herself new body parts out of the spare bits of people that she's killed and eaten. she is, against all logic, crushing hard on a kind woman who recently saved her life while believing Shesheshen to be a human, and that woman has naturally turned out to be a monster hunter (evidently, perhaps, not the most astute one). there's so much gory whimsy here, and so much to like. and yet. and YET. it goes just a little too long for me (the novel is a strong candidate for a work that would have fared better as a pared down novella) and it is, in times, gratingly on the nose with spelling out "x behavior is abuse and abuse is Bad." still very fun though, solid B from me.

that's it!!! that's a wrap for 2024, I'll see you again at the end of January to check in and see how those book bingo sheets are coming along!

[corviiids]

If i ask nicely, would you consider writing the core of Light and L character like you did for Shuake? (IT'S BRILLIANT BTW!! You're so galazy brain. I love reading any meta or just silly posts you posted here <3) because you mention Light a couple time in Akechi's part and now i need to know your thought on him and L.

(Also, about the death note wip you're cooking right now, is it a oneshot or multiple chapters fic? Im super excited for it!)

i ABSOLUTELY would thank you so much for asking and for your lovely kind words. and im sorry this took me seven years to get to i just kept psyching myself out.

here's the ren & goro post this ask refers to for anyone wondering. the 'core' refers to my answer to a writing meme:

26. What would you describe as OOC? [...] it's the same approach i take to language tbh particularly in pronunciation. once you understand how a language forms its sounds at a base level, you dont struggle with the accent on particular words, and you can encounter words you've never seen before and understand how they're likely to be said/spelled/etc. so once i learn to 'speak' a character they come more naturally. idk if that comparison makes sense to anyone else but it does to meeeee all this to say i think a character is ooc if they do or say something i cant reconcile with that core!

the death note wip is a multichap!! thank you for your interest!!! ill talk about it more once i've stopped tying myself in knots plotting it!! broadly it's a what-if type au which has led me to replot an entire series from scratch dont look at me

anyway lawlight below. i will say ive been really desperately wanting to do like a video essay or something about death note which would be a lot about L and light specifically and how i interpret their characters so ill try and not go toooooo insane in this post but maybe ill go more insane later. in a video. with my human voice.

(edit: i failed i went insane)

light - one-way road to the sky

ok let's talk about one of my favourite scenes of the entire series, which i think is widely not super well understood but honestly to me holds the key to light's entire character. it's right there in volume 1

sorry, the only digital copy ive got on hand is the scanlation. for comparison the official print copy reads:

bubble 1: hey, maki, wanna party tomorrow with some guys from s. college? ten o'clock. bubble 2: yeah, totally! bubble 3: hey, can i go too? bubble 4: my mom isn't here yet? what's that nag doing, geez! light (thinking): damn... light (thinking): start looking around you... light (thinking): and all you see are people the world would be better off without.

this happens within the first 40 pages of the first volume. and it's like. haha hey light what the fuck? this is a totally normal scene in everyday life. people are talking about living their lives. nobody's done anything remotely reprehensible in this scene. and light's just walking through the streets experiencing apparently unprompted and quite extreme misanthropy. what's wrong with him

ok let's have a quick look at the first time we meet light in the anime.

[...]

[...]

cool cool cool im gonna pivot again let's look at the first song (besides the overture) in the musical.

ok rook! we get it! light yagami is out here like damn we live in a society time to kill people about it. this is news to nobody! we all know this!! that's what the series is about! why are we rehashing all of this

great. cool. awesome. let's look at all those scenes one more time. but this time don't look at light. instead let's look at the people around him

in the opening shots of the anime (after the shinigami world, which actually is much the same theme): news of brutal murder is narrated over establishing shots of tokyo. light is shown dead-eyed, going about his ordinary life, surrounded by random other civilians doing the same thing.

in the musical, light isn't angry that murders happen. he's angry about the inaction and complicity of the ordinary people around him.

these scenes aren't highlighting that light thinks crime is bad. we all know crime is bad. the point of these scenes is to contrast light's frustration and fury against the reactions of the people around him. here's what light yagami is seeing: we're surrounded with rot. but nobody's reacting. and then life just goes on. so suddenly all those completely normal scenes of people being concerned with the superficial details of their life aren't just normality, they're complicity. day in, day out. so the world is rotting, and to light, it seems that everyone is completely ok with that. that's just the way things are. and that disgusts and depresses him. on top of than that, it isolates him: he feels like he's the only one who sees or cares about this, that everyone dismisses him as naive, that no one else can be trusted, that everyone else is able to ignore something he sees as inexcusable. this is a sentiment he repeats again and again. it reads as arrogance, and it is, but it's also isolation - after all it's lonely at the top and just as lonely to feel like you're at the top even if you arent

can i talk about the iliad again? is that ok with everyone. im gonna talk about the iliad again

in book 1 of the iliad, the commander of the greek army insults achilles by publicly and unlawfully taking a prize (the girl briseis) who rightfully belonged to achilles. achilles reacts by withdrawing his troops from the army, dooming the greeks' campaign. achilles had a lot of friends in the army, so why would he essentially sentence them all to death for something that only agamemnon did? well, (because agamemnon did something publicly that everyone knew was wrong, and yet nobody was willing (or at least able) to stand up for achilles and stop it from happening. achilles, disgusted by the inaction of the bystanders, turned his back on all of them. fun fact i nearly wrote a mini thesis (an academic one not just a long post on tumblr) about the intersection btwn this book of the iliad and legal theory but law+classics is such a niche interdisciplinary field my professor couldnt find anyone who could supervise me so i couldnt do it. anyway that's not the point

is this right or fair? who cares, not the point. what im interested in is what that kind of behaviour says about the individual. light, like achilles, is a highly idealistic person. we all know that in the abstract, but take a second to really really dig into it, because it's actually quite an interesting fact about a character who is popularly understood as being cold and unfeeling or flatly psychotic and on a power trip. idealism isn't naivety, it's not optimism, it's not even really a happy thing. idealism is simply a firm belief in the way things should be at the cost of refusing or being unable to accept what is.

this is the core of light yagami to me. light doesn't become kira because he's cold or destructive or crazy. he doesn't actually even do it because he's spiteful or misanthropic. it's very much the opposite. he's misanthropic because he believes in the world so much. isn't that a great contradiction! ok here i'll show you some proof.

in an early scene (also in volume 1), light describes himself as an optimist and ryuk finds that interesting.

so light is an optimist. he believes in a bright future for humanity. he wants to protect humanity. he likes humanity. no, he doesn't believe that people are inherently good, but he does believe in some goodness as a part of humanity and wants to protect the best of people, in an egotistical way:

how do we reconcile that with a young man who walks through the streets listening to completely ordinary conversations by ordinary people and reacts by wishing death on everyone talking?

let's split out what's going on here. remember what's happening in light's head. light yagami is 17 years old. he grew up with a police chief for a father (in a fictional world where the police are the literary stand-in for law as justice so just pretend for a second that police are good im sorry), watching his father work tirelessly to fight crime - but crime continues, making this an endless, thankless task. and while crime continues, so does the world around him. every day light sees atrocities on the news, and he sees atrocities brought home, and then he lives his ordinary life and watches the people around him apparently not give a shit, only concerned with the petty details of their own little lives. bystanders watching wrong happen, selfishly unaffected. day in, day out. that idealism is getting colder the longer this unendurable injustice goes on. so achilles condemns his friends to death.

what human trait is being exhibited? realistically it's helplessness. would being miserable about crime help to end crime? of course not. people have to go on with their lives, that's a fact, it's even a strength. even light begins the series completely unable to do a thing about the rot he sees around him, which is part of why he's so depressed. but that's not what light is seeing. light is seeing ordinary people appear to choose not to give a fuck about injustice. the thing that's sparking his disgust is apathy, real or apparent. light yagami is an idealist. he wants a better future - a utopia that only he can imagine - something that can only happen if either everyone becomes as good as he is, or he takes control.

if you leave an idealist in an unwinnable situation for too long, their pure belief will start to curdle. it will not turn to realism. they will not accept what is. they will only become more and more bitter that what should be, isn't. they will become a cynicist. this is really the heart of my argument and ive made it a million times and ill make it again. idealism and cynicism are not opposites, they're not even two sides of a coin. they are two points on the same line which moves very quickly in only one direction. this is where i start when im writing him: how do i make someone who believes so hard that it's killing him? someone who believes so hard it makes him believe in nothing?

then we find the third point on that line, which someone can reach by gaining sudden power - for example, a magic notebook that kills people: radicalisation.

how do we reconcile his desire to protect humanity with the fact that what he's trying to protect against is also humanity? how can i say light loves humanity when he has such disdain for them? easy peasy: light sees himself as the messiah. my bumper sticker that says ask me about light's martyr complex PLEASE ask me about light's martyr complex i wrote a song about it ask me about light seeing himself as the sacrificial lamb on the (and then the bumper sticker cuts off)

light loves humanity the way a twisted shepherd might love his sheep. something to be protected, but something beneath you that can't be trusted to know what's best for them. humanity is something he loves because it's endearingly pathetic, something to pity and save. repeatedly he refers to becoming kira as a personal sacrifice, something that costs him his soul but that he has to do. it's a delusion of grandeur driven by dual purposes of ego and some desperate wish to change a status quo he's been despairing about for years.

tl;dr: light believes with all his soul in something he thinks is impossible, and it's killing him slowly, and then a chance to change the world just falls out of the sky

L - isolate yourself until you can make believe it's just a game

steeples fingers. i have Things to Say about L Lawliet.

ok listen. listen. Listen. listen. are you listening? listen. in general i think people kind of misunderstand characters who are hyper-intellectual and/or behave unconventionally in social settings. you're all going to fucking kill me for this but i think there's a tendency to like... accidentally turn any character who falls vaguely in this broad category into sheldon cooper. god im sorry i feel like i just shot everyone's collective dog

specifically what i mean by that is that 'awkward' gets flanderised in a way that eventually becomes a caricature of itself, because there is so much nuance to actual social awkwardness that it's very easy to kind of pick a template and stick to it without really thinking about what makes that character 'awkward' and what the root and type of awkwardness is, unique to them. so instead we just get, like... generic big word user. generic driven by logic and logic alone guy. generic guy who doesn't Do Well with other people, for Smart Reasons.

here's a list of true things about L which i think are safe to say are uncontroversial

intuitive

logical, master of deductive reasoning

competitive

behaves in an odd way that draws attention

is aware of that fact

focuses extremely hard on his cases and only cares about being a detective not anything else

isolates himself and doesn't like talking to people partly for his own safety partly because it's boring to him

here are things i have seen in characterisation of L which i would like to dispute

makes decisions and draws conclusions based solely on logic and evidence

doesn't understand social cues

here's a list of alternate interpretations which i would like to propose and that i am willing to back up with evidence and/or by physically fighting over them

is driven primarily not by logic or evidence, but by incredible intuition which is supported by logic and evidence when it suits him

has a keen understanding of people, interpersonal relationships, and social norms

leverages that understanding frequently to his benefit

feels that he is not capable of / not a part of emotions that he sees as being typically human (see his speech about being a monster)

and yet in an abstract and self-contradictory and low-priority way still kind of desires connection, leaving him emotionally isolated

chooses to behave oddly on purpose, not because he doesn't realise he's behaving oddly, but because it is not a priority for him

those might seem like fine distinctions at some points, but stray slightly off the mark and his characterisation begins to vary wildly. for example, interpret L as being bemused or unaware of social cues, and one possible characterisation that may stem from that understanding (which i have seen) is that L doesn't understand sarcasm or jokes - which is demonstrably untrue. L demonstrates weak social skills because social skills aren't a priority for him, not because he doesn't understand social norms. after all he does a reasonably convincing 'i am a normal dudeguy' voice on at least two occasions (suzuki the information line guy and asahi the calling matsuda for drinks guy). even with the taskforce, when his behaviour is more of his usual bizarre self, he still makes the effort to treat them respectfully and meet them where they are, explaining himself when they ask, chatting with them, holding ordinary conversations. you can read this any number of ways but my point is that he can do all of this with relatively little struggle

it's also very much not the case that L doesn't have feelings or care about other people. he's ruthless and he's cool with causing people to die if he has to, but he reacts with visible distress to the deaths of the FBI agents, to ukita's death, to the prospect of other members of the taskforce dying. he does care, he's just not morally driven as a priority.

ok but if he can cosplay as Normal Dudeguy with no trouble then why doesn't he. why does he conduct all his business in dark rooms apart from the entire world forever. is it gauche to use a section of my own fic to explain my point? im going to do it anyway

It is easy to identify in Light what he has long known in himself. That little pearl of disruption, grown around an irritating grain of something just unique and tremendous enough to be uncomfortable to the more ordinary around them. L has hidden it by hiding himself. Light has hidden it by hiding within himself. L's black letter is to Light’s vapid smile is to Kira's invisible bullet.

(honestly a lot of what i have discussed here is also covered in this fic so in case this fucking three thousand word essay is not enough for you you can go read that.)

something L and light significantly have in common is that their intellect and unique way of thinking really set them apart from everyone in the world, which is incredibly isolating. but while L has the 'benefit' (arguably could be a detriment but i think he sees it as a benefit) of a unique upbringing which allows him to use his skills to their full extent without worrying about really anything else, light is very much trapped by social convention. while light's life is privileged and materially perfect, he's stuck inside what society expects of him, while L is able to exist completely outside that paradigm. the result is that light has retreated within himself and spends all day playing a part, barely tolerating the monotony and apathy of the world around him by mechanically performing as expected while smothering the part of him that never has an opportunity to truly come out until kira. L, on the other hand, has no reason to put up with a society that is, for lack of a better term, really just beneath him. so he retreats. remember that the first volume/chapter of the manga is called 'boredom'.

you can see that even in his comparatively limited interactions with the task force, he is having to exercise a level of patience to explain to them what he's thinking at every stage, to have to defend his methods, his instincts, his decisions, etc, needing to step through every stage of his reasoning so that the others can follow and won't object. this is NOT just about masking his odd behaviour, it's also very much about having to step through his morals and his process, which is second nature to him but is new to everyone else and needs explaining. it is visibly exhausting to him, and this is with people he actually seems to like well enough. eg during yotsuba arc when light and soichiro keep raising moral concerns, and he has those little "here we go again" moments (which i love SO much and are so telling of him to me) even though he doesn't let his frustration show. which is why he usually does not bother with it and prefers to work alone. he sits the way he does even though he knows it's odd, because he feels he need to sit that way. when light calls it out, he doesn't question that people will think he's strange, so he's clearly aware. he just explains himself.

but if he were out with people on the regular, he'd need to defend himself constantly. the things L does are not conventional. yes the sitting is just an oddity of his so it's a good example, but it's not just the things that are odd that cause a problem: he frequently makes decisions which seem to make massive leaps of logic nobody else (except light) can follow, and often his actions are morally questionable or even reprehensible. all that is because L is extremely pragmatic and results-focused. it kind of doesn't matter to him how he gets from A to B as long as he gets to B. but the way his mind works is that he makes big jumps that make perfect sense to him but would draw curiosity or objection from anyone who doesn't think the way he does. it would be absolutely exhausting to have to constantly defend every strange or questionable thing he did, so he just retreats.

when he works with other people, i think it's worth noting that the team dynamic never actually struggles for L's awkwardness. this is something i really like about death note honestly - L is quirky and strange, but the series doesn't do that thing where it's like He's A Genius Of Course He's Rude To Everyone. he's actually not. for the most part, L is courteous, patient, and polite. he's sometimes blunt or abrupt, but he very rarely does the thing where he's obliviously cruel or brushes people off. he's considerate of people's needs, he's visibly compassionate of other people's emotional difficulties, and he very rarely loses his patience. when matsuda tries to tell the locked-up light about kira resuming activity, L snaps "Matsuda!" to stop him, and then immediately corrects himself to go "I mean, Matsuda-san." it would have been really easy for the series to do that tropey shit where he's so smart that he doesn't bother with politeness, but he factually does. he makes the effort to treat people politely even when he's not actually being kind. when he's asked to explain himself, the reader can see he's tired and annoyed, but he doesn't take it out on people. on the odd occasion he does make fun of someone for being slow, he does so in mostly light-hearted ways. so he is very capable of dealing with other people directly. his lack of social skills aren't for lack of understanding. he just can't be bothered. it's a waste of energy to try and behave 'normally' or to do things that other people find acceptable, whether that's due to social norm or common morality. it is so, so much easier for L to do things alone. without the need to explain or defend his behaviour to anyone, his isolation turns real world problems into something almost purely theoretical. so it really is like a game for him, at least at first.

whatever

i think it's really important for a character like L to not be fooled by the surface-level categorisation of 'smart awkward character'. we really need to find what's driving his awkwardness. it's not ignorance, it's not even really disdain, it's exasperation. he's tired of being surrounded by people who just can't keep up with him, and he does not have enough energy or interest to spend his time handholding everyone through his process, so he just does whatever the hell he wants and avoids people as much as possible so he doesn't have to deal with it.

look i know this is a really long way to say stuff that people mostly already know, but i think L is one of the most finely nuanced characters in the series because he looks like such a simple expression of a known archetype and the ways in which he subverts expectations are so granular that it's easy to completely miss them even while appreciating how interesting he is. the way this translates into how i write him is that he's polite and has a lot of patience until he simply doesn't, at which point he'll inwardly or subtly express that he wishes he didn't have to bother with this shit, that he picks up on fine social and emotional details that other people will totally miss, but that he'll always put his own whims and plans before anything else.

tl;dr: L behaves like someone who is constantly moving at his own pace and for whom dealing with people is rarely worth the effort, but this does not make him inept or unkind.

[lovelyladzzzz]

My thoughts after finishing Wayward Son: WHYYYYY?! Bro Watford needs to take care of its own problems! Every time Baz and Simon try to talk someone comes in and is like “Actually fuck that let’s go fight a battle!” I’m just waiting for Baz to scream and tell Simon he loves him and then Simon breaks up with him! I was so sure they were gonna break up on the beach and now they have to put it off for another book?! You guys can’t heal if you’re constantly in fights and dying!

On another happier footing: I love Shepard. Every Shepard chapter is an absolute delight. Every time the audiobook says “Chapter number, Shepard” I’m like; “Hell yeah let’s get some heavy analysis in this bitch!” He’s so cool and generally just rounds out their little friend group nicely in my opinion! We got a nerd who’s going through the trenches, the pacifist nerd who talks too much, the edgy one with mommy issues, the hot one with image issues, and Simon Snow. Overall I’d give Simon’s No Good Very Bad Road Trip from hell 9/10 stars. A point was taken because all Simon could think about the whole time was breaking up with his boyfriend who loves him more than my uber religious mother loves God.