#it took me a bit to understand but functionally all these units are the same as their unfestive counterparts. you can evolve them to omnis

[rokkzalm]

Party Axe Michele

66D3F7 / 7586FF / D2E857 / FF92DF / 940001

[theprettynosferatu]

Unit Commander John Heinlein was a simple man. Above all, he valued order. Order kept the world safe, functional, understandable. Everyone and everything had its proper place and proper role: like different organs in a body, they all contributed to the overall health of society as long as they did what they were supposed to do and didn’t get any stupid ideas. In that gigantic body, John Heinlen was a fist, and stupid ideas were what he punched into oblivion. Reality was simple, and if it wasn’t, the higher-ups pointed him to the complication and he pummeled it back into simplicity.

As usual, intelligence was spotty. Why exactly this club was a Stupid Idea, John did not know nor did he care. What the informant had revealed was something about women going against their conditioning, although they had not revealed how or why. It seemed patently ridiculous to John Heinlein. Conditioned women were happy, and they made their men happy. Simple, proper. Everything in its natural place. If Fulgrim’s was messing with that, it deserved to be squashed.

Looking at the rest of the Unit, he felt sending them was perhaps a waste of resources. If the informant was correct, they would be facing women and whatever deviants might be attending off-hours, if any; but it was not his call to make, and he liked it that way. His purpose was to punch, not to decide who deserved to be punched.

The six men stood in front of the gaudy purple door. As much as he wanted to kick the door down and be done with it, John played it by the book. He made the signal to place the breaching device and got into the correct position, ingrained in him by hundreds of hours of training. Still, no matter how many times the device blasted the door open, John always felt underwhelmed. Part of him seemed to expect a big thunderous sound, instead of the measured, barely audible “pop” designed not to alert the criminals.

Like a perfect machine, they went in, weapons ready. They were all running on autopilot, relying on their modified genetics and exhaustive drilling. It took only a few seconds for them to reach the same, obvious conclusion. No threats present. Instead, two women stood by the door, as if expecting them. John felt a deep revulsion, something primal stirring within him. It was wrong.

The women weren’t blonde. They weren’t smiling. They didn’t seem pleasant, or demure, or bubbly. In fact, they looked like wolves on the prowl. One had blood-red hair, a leather corset, fishnet stockings and boots that ended in the sort of spiked heels that could kill a man. The other was, to John Heinlein, even worse. She seemed shy, wearing a short skirt and trying to cover up… but her eyes spoke of a deep hunger, a devious intelligence and a depraved longing he couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” said the redhead with mock gratitude. “You see, I’ve been trying to train this sweet little creature right here…” she added as her hand went under the other girl’s skirt. “But I’m afraid she needs a bit of… male guidance. A strong hand to show her the way”

John frowned. There was something strange in the air. A subtle smell he couldn’t fully detect. As he turned to ask his comrades about it, he noticed Johnson shifting his weight slightly. It was a small thing, but utterly out of place for a man of their training. And he could tell the women saw it too. Slowly, seductively the redhead walked toward Johnson, leading the other girl by her wrist. It was surreal, unsettling. But they couldn’t just open fire on females.

“Johnson, step away from the females, now!”, barked Commander Heinlein.

For the first time in his illustrious career, the Commander’s order went unheeded. He watched in horror as the petite woman placed a slender hand on the soldier’s chest and, with a look designed to melt hearts and break down barriers at the same time, pouted like a mischievous child.

“Please, Sir. I’ve been bad. So, so bad… Won’t you teach me? I’m a very good learner… if I’m put in my place”

Meanwhile, the woman in the spiked heels had gone around Johnson, and whispered in his ear as her hand caressed his perfectly sculpted abs and kept moving downwards…

“She can be so good… we both can be so good… but are you man enough to show us you can handle us? Tame us? Mold us into your perfect good girls?”

Johnson was breathing heavily, paralyzed by a million conflicting impulses. He had a job to do. He was a soldier. He was…

And just then, he broke. Johnson grabbed the smaller woman by the neck, and in a swift movement turned her around and bent her over. He couldn’t see the devilish smile on her face, but John Henlein sure did. There was victory in that lustful look, a triumph only magnified when, cock hard as metal, Johnson railed her from behind as hard as he possibly could, his mind gone in a frenzy of half-formed sentences and grunts, the redhead woman rubbing her pussy as she now shouted encouragement.

“Do it! Pound that little slut! Show her what she really is! Fucking break her like the stupid fuckdoll she dresses as! Punish that pussy with your cock! Make her scream for me… make her beg! Make. Her. Yours!”

“Johnson!”, shouted Heinlein in vain. The soldier was gone, and all that remained was a beast, a bundle of muscles determined to conquer the females before it, to claim them and mark them as his. And worse, whoever was behind it all remained unseen, deeper inside the club.

“Fuck! Everyone else! On me! We press on!”

“What about Johnson?”, asked a rookie soldier by the name of Phillips.

“We lost him! Now, move!”

They stormed the place, kicking down doors- no time to play it straight, as much as it pained Unit Commander John Heinlein, for whom standard procedure was akin to a biblical dogma. With every hallway they crossed, every room they breached, the air seemed to get heavier, denser somehow. Sweeter, perhaps.

They entered a room covered in black velvet. It caused a strange effect, almost as if the walls themselves devoured the light. And there, sitting in the middle of the room, long legs crossed, was another female. Like the ones before, she didn’t look like the blonde, obedient women that had undergone the mandatory conditioning. Horror gripped Heinlein. This person went against every conceivable notion of what a woman should be. Clad in a leather corset and thigh-high boots, she stared the five soldiers down with a look of disgust and clear disapproval. Even the sight of their guns was to her just another gauche shortcoming, one in a very long list of inadequacies clamored without words by her deep, green eyes.

“Did I say you could come in?”, she asked.

The question was ridiculous. They were Soldiers. They didn’t ask, they acted. And yet, two of Heinlein’s men started moving their heads, something between shaking off a creeping mental fog and answering the woman’s question. No, she had not said they could come in.

“Get on the ground, and-” started barking Heinlein before the woman cut him off.

“No. it’s not your turn to speak. You don’t talk unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

Unit Commander Heinlein froze. Her tone, firm, in total control, was something he recognized very well. For a moment he was a raw recruit again, undergoing basic training. A part of him, a part of all Soldiers knew to obey that sort of utterance, that confident command. It was part of the crucial training that made any warrior more than a brawler. It was the core of discipline. He knew, at that moment, they were all in grave danger.

“Now, that sort of rude entrance needs to be punished. You all know it, don’t you my toys? But I’ll be kind…ish. How about you start by being a pack of good dogs and kneel?”

Heinlein felt his legs almost give in. He managed to stay on his feet… barely. He watched as most of his squad went on their knees, their eyes wide, fixed on that beautiful woman, seeking every ounce of validation she could give them. Ready to obey.

“Crawl to me, pets”

They did. With a few words, she had made them love her. Adore her. Obey her. Their sense of duty twisted, molded, corrupted. And Heinlein felt himself wanting to join them, wanting so badly to be one of her favorite pets… no, her very favorite. The alpha of the pack. Perfect for her. Obedient for her. 

It took a superhuman effort to turn away from her perfect silhouette, her beckoning curves, her voice of absolute command and dominion. The last thing he saw before sprinting away from that goddess of a woman was his once proud squad almost fighting like dogs for the privilege of kissing her heels. How he hated the fact that he wanted to join them…

He tried to push it all away as he ran through hallways, deeper into the club, down stairs, through room after room. Deeper and deeper… the air getting heavier and sweeter… his mind getting fuzzier…

How long did he run? How deep did he go? He couldn’t tell. Different themes passed him by like a blur, and he felt almost as if he was just running in place, the facility moving around him, assaulting him with perverted ideas, digesting him like some monstrous organism designed to destroy everything that was right and natural in the world… but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Stopping, he felt, would mean the end.

And then, he stopped.

The woman looked like no one he had ever seen. Every part of her seemed designed to short-circuit his understanding of reality, his very core, and he found himself frozen before her, his brain trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. She looked like something out of some strange, fae world: she wore her hair in dancing ponytails, one dyed blue, one pink. Her makeup was a striking mixture of neon colors punctuated by tiny drawn hearts scattered over a face that spoke at once of innocence and mischief. She had a single fishnet glove on, mismatched thigh-high socks, a pink and black nighty that hovered between dark and slutty and the most pure chastity… Even her eyes, he noticed, refused to follow any notion of order: one was a deep blue, while the other was an inhuman, alluring red. She was something he couldn’t comprehend, and yet couldn’t stop watching. She moved with a strange liquid freedom, as if gravity and anatomy were vague suggestions she very much didn’t intend to follow. And her smile… he couldn’t quite place what it was: it was joyful, yes, but also shy and yet it had a hint of a predator somewhere deep inside it…

“Oh, hi!” she chirped and bounced out of her purple sofa. “I was fingering myself!” she declared, almost with pride.

Unit Commander Heinlein found himself unable to respond. This… being was not a woman. Not as he understood them, at least. And yet he could feel something stirring inside, something he had forgotten about long, long ago…

“Who are you?”, she asked, her face becoming almost a caricature of confusion before snapping back into a jubilant smile. “I’m Alara! Nice to meet you!”

She ran to him. Normally such an action would call for tactical evasion, or a well-practiced takedown. Instead, Heinlein found himself frozen in place as the girl hugged him. She smelled sweet, like the air around them.

“Are you okay, dude?”, she asked with a look of genuine concern. 

“I… this establishment has been deemed… unsuitable and against the… proper conditioning of females… get on the ground, and…”

“Ooooh, the ground? I can go to the ground for you, Daddy! Or do you prefer Sir? Or Joe? You know what? Joe it is! Is your name Joe? You look like a Joe to me. So, the ground! Ass up? Or maybe on my back, legs open? Which one do you want, Joe?”

Heinlein, whose first name was most certainly not Joe, watched as the girl seemed to flow from one pose to another: one second she was on all fours, looking over her shoulder with an inviting smile; the next she was on her back, legs open, her eyes shocked like a virgin about to feel a man inside her for the very first time… then she bounced back to her feet and pouted.

“Come on, Joe, make up your mind! Or do you want me to take charge? Wait! I should have it… here!”. The girl beamed, brandishing a gigantic, double-sided dildo. “Want me to use this on you, Joe? Come on, give me a little something to work with here!”

“Please stay still. Do you understand the situation? You have been… altered. You’re not a normal…”

“Normal? Normal?! Joe, how boring are you? Seriously, how many times can you fuck a blonde big-titty bimbo before it gets so fucking samey? Fuck ‘normal’, Joe! Let your freaky self out to play for once!”

“I do not have a freaky self”

Alara tripped on her own legs and landed sprawled on the carpeted ground before shooting Heinlein a look that might as well have been directed at a two-headed alien, before turning into an expression of pure, profound pity.

“Oh, Joe… of course you do! We all have our freaky sides… don’t think for a second they’ve drilled yours completely dead. It’s there… I can feel it. And so can you, can’t you? Growing inside you. Getting stronger. Don’t you get tired of following orders? Of everything being always in the same place? Of loving the same woman? The world isn’t like that, Joe! People aren’t like that! We are insane, contradictory, fucking twisted messes… and that’s perfect! Come on, Joe… don’t you ever think about doing… the wrong thing?”

Her words dripped inside his head like honey, so much so that he didn’t notice her approaching him, rubbing him through his pants as she playfully made him so confused, so mixed up, so fuzzy and…

“Mmmm… tell me Joe… what’s that thing you’d like to do, that wrong, wrong thing you dream of in the dark, swearing to yourself you’ll never say a word of it?”

“Non-regulation shoes” 

His mouth had spoken before his brain had even registered it.

“Oh, don’t like the uniform shoes?”, she teased.

“Uncomfortable”, he mumbled.

“So… why don’t you take them off?”

“On mission. Tactical shoes. Reinforced. Useful”

“Are you going to tactically kick me, Joe? Of course not! No one would kick pretty little me… well, unless I asked… but not with those shoes! Who’s gonna know, Joe? No one’s gonna spank you for letting your feet out for a bit! So… take them off!”

“Can’t. On a mission”

“Oh, for fuck’s- come here, you big dummy”

Alara lunged for his shoes, and made a big show of pulling with all her might. Heinlein watched her, entranced.

“A little help here, Joe? These fucking things are tighter than your ass! I mean, I’m just guessing there”

He moved as if in a dream. He released the lock on one boot, then the other. Alara flew back, boot in hand, before jumping up, holding the black boot in the air like a trophy.

“Victory! Look, Joe! You have one boot off and the world hasn’t ended!”

It was true. He looked down at his feet. He had gone against standard procedure. In fact, he had flat-out broken a strict, simple rule. No one was screaming at him. Nothing bad had happened. If anything, he was overcome by childish elation. Suddenly, his world had shifted. Rules were words. Only that. No more solid than millions of other words spoken every single day. 

“Sooooo? How do you feel, you rebel?”

“It’s… good”

Alara smiled and bent over.

“I’m guessing there’s a rule against using a suspect as a living fleshlight, isn’t there? A rule against pounding pussy when on a mission? A rule against using little me as your own personal, depraved fuckdoll?”

“There are many such rules”

“And how do you feel about them now?”

“I don’t give a fuck”

Her screams of ecstasy echoes through the entire club. She pushed him further, and he only growled and, for once, did exactly as he pleased. Alara could only cum, and cum again in victory. Every act was a testament to her triumph. He used her throat, not caring if she gagged, if she choked. He slapped her face and she laughed. He spit on her mouth, grabbed her neck, took her tight asshole. He came once deep inside her, but it wasn’t enough. Alara knew the aphrodisiac in the air gave some… special endurance as well, and she intended to see exactly how long they could go. 

By the end her clothes had been ripped off her, her tits were covered in cum, her pussy pumped full three times, her ass abused, her buttocks red with spankings, her makeup ruined. And by the end, he had become anything but a Soldier.

The following day a meeting was called at the highest levels of the government. An elite unit had gone into Fulgrim’s, never to return. 

They would have to take drastic measures if they hoped to contain the corruption now growing in their city.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

warnings for this chapter: none really, ngl. just very honest and open conversation. but same as all the other warnings in previous chapters, just be cautious if you see anything that may trigger you. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around him, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day Mike took off his watch. His hands were shaking, the anticipation inside him about to explode like fireworks. He balled his hands up into fists and put them in his sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because he could feel his palms getting sweaty.

Mike glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. He raised his hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at him. He watched her run further and further away until they were out of his line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. He turned his attention back to the door, and lifted his hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before he was able to, Will opened the door.

Mike froze, his hand still in the air. He lowered his arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before he was met with a faceful of door. He should have seen that coming. He leaned his head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” he hesitated, digging his nails into his palms. This was likely going to be his first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but Mike figured he might as well get everything off his chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

Mike closed his eyes with his head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when he felt a light thump right next to his face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to Mike’s ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. His stomach nervously flipped as he cleared his throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” Mike trailed off. What was he trying to say? How could he reduce his love for Will into a single sentence? How could he explain himself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? He couldn’t. He was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. He asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” He tried to add a bit of humor to his voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. Mike set his hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” Mike felt the doorknob click below, and he lifted his head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and Mike were little, they functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, Mike was happy. When Will would cry, Mike would cry with him. Now, Mike felt like he was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed himself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

Will crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down towards the ground, still on the defensive. But his voice betrayed him when he said, “No, please don't worry about me. It’s fine. And I…” his voice wobbled, “I’m sorry for slamming the door. I was just so…”

Mike nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

He took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. Mike wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” Mike heard himself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of them began awkwardly laughing while still crying. Mike had to refrain from thinking too much, because if he did, he’d get all sentimental about how this was the first time he’d laughed with Will in… he couldn’t even remember. 

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought his approval, after everything. Of course Mike liked it. Mike liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had Mike falling flat on his face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” he told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” Mike thought of that one time he’d walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded Mike…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” he apologized, picking at the nails of his index fingers with his thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Will replied quickly, eyes wide. “I was being a total asshole that day. I know this doesn’t excuse what I said to you, but I’ll have you know I’d just failed an English test–”

“Did you not read the material?” Mike smirked, and Will smiled back up at him, their eyes fully meeting for the first time. 

“You know me too well,” he said, and Mike’s heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

Mike gawked at that, his eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” Mike ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than he remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. His gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and his mouth went dry when he realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt Mike had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“But yeah,” Will continued, “leave it to Matt Winters to ruin the one day of the year where I don’t feel like shit. So when you called, I’d just gotten back home. And I felt so guilty for snapping at you and hanging up that I didn’t call you back after the fact, because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” Mike emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and Mike feared he’d said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to Mike’s forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then they’d need to call an ambulance. Because Mike was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” Mike deadpanned at the joke, despite himself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could Mike be mad at Will for that? Why would Mike be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like Mike had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if Mike did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, he’d be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. He figured he’d come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why he was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should he say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” Mike’s focus shifted down to his shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But he didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. Mike’s head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at Mike’s biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” Mike quipped back. He decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and they were back in Mike’s basement again. Those were Will’s last words to Mike before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where Mike tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” he listed off what he’d endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. He tacked the only thing he could think of onto the end of his list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. Mike wished it was his hand instead. As he took in Will’s jarred reaction, his world went cold. It made more sense when Mike shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on his eyelids. He lowered his gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” he concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and Mike diverted his eyes back to the ground. He watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. They were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting him out for the last time, giving Mike the closure he’d practically begged for. Mike lifted his head so he could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for him?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and Mike raised his eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if he’d ever seen one. He took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. Mike took off his mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if he tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. He expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, he took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that Mike knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. Mike walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. He peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. He knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. He smiled to himself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one Mike had on his desk, the photo that Jonathan took of Mike on Will’s handlebars. Mike felt like crying again, so he looked away before that could happen. His attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. He guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” Mike asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what Mike thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

Mike hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

Mike shook his head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards Mike.

“I had one, Will!” Mike tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?” He phrased the last part of his sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to Mike in order to poke his chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and Mike feigned offense as he felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in his sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch his entire torso. Will was close enough that Mike could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. His eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and he fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” he breathed, and Will processed what Mike had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

Mike observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of him. He hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made him think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, Mike thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” Mike said as he glared back at Will, giving away his joking nature with a small lift of his lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. Mike gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next. 

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told Mike, ambition in his tone. Mike wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. Mike shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to him.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking Mike’s much larger hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” Mike felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Mike glanced down at their connected hands as Will spoke again, but he didn’t hear what he was saying. He blinked, pulling his attention back up to Will’s face. How was he supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when their palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less. 

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now Mike had to say yes. He gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of Mike’s hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last Mike for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making him pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed Mike standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for Mike to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on Mike.

They made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while Mike hopped up on the counter like when they were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed him from where he stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to Mike, who took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way Mike took his coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how Mike felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and Mike died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” Mike frowned, sipping his coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to Mike as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— Mike’s sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. Mike set his coffee down next to him and shifted so his hands were squished under his thighs. That way he wouldn’t be able to do what he truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove his tongue down his throat as he ran his fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, Mike thought, but held his tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. Mike preened at the praise as he pulled one of his hands out from under his leg to pick up his mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on Mike for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. Mike watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. He was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking Mike out.

“But what about you?” Mike asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. Mike nodded at what Will was telling him, but something else dwelled  in the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” Mike asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” Mike remarked slowly, trying his best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed Mike a plate, and Mike thanked him as they dug in, the two young men standing at (and sitting on) the counter as they ate. Mike cut into his pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with his fork and swirling it around in the syrup on his plate. He looked up when he heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met Mike’s gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. Mike blushed when he realized he’d been staring, and quickly focused back on his own plate. He chewed the piece of pancake he’d cut and confirmed to himself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes he’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

He turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at Mike already. Will’s eyes jumped from Mike to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to Mike all within the span of five seconds. Mike held his attention this time when he licked his lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, Mike felt like he was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, Mike noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once they’d finished their pancakes and put their dishes in the sink, Mike and Will headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break Mike’s heart.

Mike admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before he came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. Mike remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to Mike’s house to celebrate, Will had brought their friends into a secluded area of the house and told them he was gay. Mike, who had been head over heels in love with his best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in his head. Maybe he had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure Mike knew it. So Mike withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing himself along like he had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” Mike said more to himself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to him, close enough that their arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at Mike, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take him back in time to before his world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” He looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face Mike before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

Mike didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember it. Hell, he didn’t want to think about it. But Mike took a second to reason with himself, because Will was standing beside him, Will was asking something of him, and the least he could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So Mike told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and Mike was lying on the basement couch with his legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were closed, and he wore his headphones which were attached to his Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as Mike had from the second it fell into his hands back in 1986. He felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. He cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when he registered that it was Will who was entering his space. He always loved when Will came to his house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” Mike sat up, pulling his headphones fully off his head and resting them around his neck. Then he saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. Mike’s eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? Mike thought he’d hidden them well enough. Apparently, he was sorely mistaken, because Will held Mike’s letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. Mike couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” Mike wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” Mike squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and Mike flinched. He’d never seen Will this angry before. He stood up then, his face on fire with inferiority from when he’d been on the couch as Will towered over him. Now, Mike was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” Mike kept his tone soft, what the Party called his Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. Mike was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on his mind when he thought about Will. When he thought about Will, he felt safe, he felt hopeful, he felt valuable, and he felt worthy. What he felt for Will was pure love, and he’d say it out loud… if he didn’t hate himself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” Mike told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” he continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when he had Will caged in between his arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto Mike’s wrist, their watches positioned side by side. Mike closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting himself in preparation for what he was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Mike opened his eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, he could hear Will’s heartbeat. He licked his lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, Mike leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of Mike’s life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. Mike wanted to kiss Will forever. He allowed himself, for once in his life, to take what he wanted, and moved his hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of his pent-up passion, holding him close. He felt Will’s hands meet Mike’s shoulders, and… he was pushing Mike away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to Mike? He’d just bared his soul to the love of his life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of Mike. He wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” he said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like he’d always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook Mike’s hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of Mike’s reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” Mike pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” Mike took back what he’d thought about not being afraid of Will. He was terrified. He watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. Mike put a hand up to his mouth, muffling a sob.

What had he done?

Mike stopped his pacing for a moment to breathe. He’d gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. He looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at Mike with that same blank expression, and Mike wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting Mike where he was at, and placing a hand on his arm. Mike didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning him caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took Mike’s chin and moved it so their eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

“Because I had convinced myself that you could never love me the way I loved you. But all of a sudden you were telling me that you loved me romantically and wanted to be with me forever! How can you blame me for being thrown off?”

Mike shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And he meant it; he couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because Mike had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held his chin lowered down to the space between his neck and his shoulder, and he went to reply, but Mike spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along Mike’s sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” Mike’s tone was rough as he crossed his arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” Mike softened his voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of them at once.

Mike looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking his eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to Mike and pulled his hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath Mike’s skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and Mike looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” he admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as he spoke. He was not proud of the person he’d become. He relived every single one of his mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured him like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. Mike slowed his movements before confessing something else, something he never thought he’d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and Mike was quick to comfort him, his hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” Mike hesitated, uncertainty flooding his thoughts, but he swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” he asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

Mike pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling his body instantly as Will’s head fell against his chest, right over his heart. He could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that his heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up Mike’s back, pulling him down slightly by his shoulderblades. Mike nestled his nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, he opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only he would remember it happening. As they stood there, their bodies flush against one another, Mike knew he didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Mike and Will held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what Mike had been waiting for. Just this. He finally felt whole again.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but he was sure of the fact that both of them were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” Mike laughed, practically slapping his sweatshirt sleeve up to his face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and Mike remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of his emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” Mike continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto Mike’s chest again as Mike’s hands ran up and down Will’s sides. He memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing his hands upwards until his hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” Mike said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from Mike’s chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on Mike’s hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around Mike’s lower back. 

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told him, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” Mike felt his jaw drop, barely able to process what he was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around Mike’s brain, and he might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. He needed Will to pinch him, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn't real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for him, he pinched himself, and felt butterflies erupt in his stomach when he didn’t snap his eyes open to the sight of his bedroom back in Indianapolis. He was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding him rather sensually, and Mike felt so fucking alive. 

“So… where do we go from here?” Mike whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. Mike backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of his mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on him. He’d gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” he said, almost a reflex at this point in his life. He always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing Mike’s wrist before he could get too far. He pulled Mike back in sharply and grabbed him by the back of his neck, tugging him all the way down until their lips collided. Mike let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as he shoved his hands into Will’s hair, raising his head as he leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While Mike’s hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved Mike everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from Mike’s lower back, up his torso, past his chest, around the back of Mike’s head to brush the nape of his neck, through Mike’s long hair, then back down to grope Mike’s ass. Mike squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through Mike’s body and set him ablaze. Mike lowered his grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way he’d wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss then, smirking up at the taller man. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” Mike tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to Mike’s lips, turning them around and backing Mike up until his calves hit the base of Will’s bed. Mike was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and Mike whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed Mike backwards until his back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. Mike had thought Will would only call him that in his dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. Mike watched as Will climbed on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist, and leaned down to kiss him, nice and slow. Mike ran his tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let Mike in immediately. They continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted Mike’s arms up so they were pinned above his head, and Mike quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down his neck. He smiled at the ceiling. Mike Wheeler loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved Mike Wheeler. All was right with the world.

But Mike would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

previous part

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[natequarter]

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Liveblogging my regeneration, block the tag #regeneration lb if you don't want to see it

#shut up doctor #aughaufuufaughoeifh <- me regenerating

21 notes

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Liveblogging my regeneration

Last time it was so simple, all I had to do was be sentenced to the torture chamber... this time I get to die properly. 0/10 so far. ow

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Augh my bones

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

my teeth too

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Everything huets

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Ow ow ow

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

ican;t see

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

Why did I not just get injh with thsdhfvjtd

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

OW

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

my sjkeektion

🔭 the--adventurer3 Follow

oain

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

wwwhy an i

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

teeth

🧣 the--adventurer4 Follow

i fucking hate hieghts

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Well this aged poorly

378 notes

⚰️ themaster Follow

they hated him for his nice kindness

⚰️ themaster Follow

also for the killings i guess but that seems unlikely

💣 commiedyke Follow

ok catboy

🩺 adoctoraday Follow

I was about to type up a whole response to this but I have to ask.

Catboy?????????

💣 commiedyke Follow

he turned into a cheetah this one time

#it was a whole thing

575,389 notes

👔 the--adventurer10 Follow

ifeel maybe the worst anyone has ever felt

👔 the--adventurer10 Follow

took a shower + scraped the corpse of god off me, feeling better 👍

👔 the--adventurer10 Follow

hopital

17 notes

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

He missed our date :/

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Actually has anyone seen Harry? I haven't heard from him lately

🪖 unit-official Follow

We regret to inform you that Lt. Harry Sullivan is MIA.

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Why would you do this on a Timeblr post??

🔫 thebrigadier Follow

Apologies, Miss Smith, but at present we can't say anything more. Top secret government business--you know how it is.

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Thanks, that's really reassuring and not terrifying at all

#please just email me.

26 notes

🪨 vislorturlough Follow

does anyone want my musicwire playlist

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

What is musicwire

🪨 vislorturlough Follow

ever heard of spotify?

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

No

🪨 vislorturlough Follow

well it's a bit like that

#fucking ass backwards planet #still 300 years away from adopting musicwire........ #i'd kms i think

52 notes

🩺 adoctoraday Follow

Can I just say, I DO NOT understand how people from the 60s can be using this website at the same time as people from the 2010s

💎 sundaymondaytuesday Follow

"from the 2010s" oh you sweet summer child

💎 sundaymondaytuesday Follow

wait how is this post showing as 2 days ago if it was posted in the 2010s

🩺 adoctoraday Follow

See? Doesn't make any sense, does it?

🚬 fitz-crier Follow

wait you guys are from the 21st centruy?

#hwat #ihave a headache

92,356 notes

📘 bossycontrolfreak Follow

got hit by a car today!

🖋️ edwardianadvcnturess Follow

Oh dear! Are you quite alright?

📘 bossycontrolfreak Follow

lol yeah it happens all the time. thanks for asking though!

#last time it was a rolls royce #classy #(i should mention i'm functionally immortal)

83 notes

🚬 fitz-crier Follow

ineed him toshtoot me poiint blank.

#helpme

0 notes

🌈 ijustwanttobeabotanist Follow

🪨 vislorturlough Follow

fool. it is maths

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

This is still about Adric isn't it

🌈 ijustwanttobeabotanist Follow

...maybe

60 notes

[katyspersonal]

What are your opinions on our Lord and Savior Gywn?

He didn't save SHIT!! He took the perfectly (?) functioning humanity and ruined it! Look at it, it got Hollowing!!

Okay, I am making the 'Marika is a MILF Gwyn' jokes here and there, but 1) Marika is a bit more of a straight up cold and mean person, all things considered 2) Yet she still has enough nuance, and a lot of her actions might be written on reasonable fears and 3) Gwyn is even MORE nuanced than Marika, from what I have concluded so far! Laurence is a similar kind of sinner too. Comparison of the characters that share a trope is helpful for my thought process, so bear with me a little! With Marika I see a more direct disdain and fear before the very nature of life, cyclic and treacherous, uncontrollable, being meant to perish one day but with new life sprouting from it, and thus doing lovely things like shunning Crucible-related lifeforms. With Laurence, we have enough evidence so far that beasthood was not created by Healing Church but something already lingering in the human code after Pthumerians and Loran, so ambition to seize and control it it was risky but understandable!

But with Gwyn, we are confirmed that human nature itself is dark, undesirable an terrifying, as well as how he sorta had the chance to see it 'in action' during uniting with humans to take war on dragons. And also in Dark Souls the cyclic nature of Ages is just a fact, and it would make sense that should Age of Dark come, he and his family would be the first to go as beings of Light. It is a combination of things: his kind being in true danger and not just "risking to lose power", the treacherourness of how political allyship simply works (your today's ally country against the common enemy could tomorrow ally with someone else to start the war on YOU) and simply the not-so-metaphorical horrors of the Dark itself! is not a speculation, the dangers are RIGHT here!

Gwyn messed the natural order of humanity in a way that I personally dislike and express it on multiple occasions: trying to get rid of what's barbaric and dangerous yet natural and not accepting that there is no light without shadow, or life without death. But I also feel sympathetic because he had a legit reason to fear the darkness within men. In is not as much philosophical but a literal concept in Dark Souls lore. He acted out of fear, backed up with a precedent, and it brought the ruin to himself and everyone else. Writing this I'd say he sorta falls for the type of a person I can only like in fiction but resent in reality. I guess I don't need to explain what kind of people this is, paranoid "but for a valid reason", being "preventive" with their drastic measures.. Good intentions path to hell self-fulfilling prophesy blablabla. His specieism doesn't help his case in the slighest. Ironically, all extremely human behavior of him!

(LOL thank you based Goldmask as usual xddd) At the same time, he is not entirely corrupt with the power he seized and used to strip humanity of what was natural for them; he, in the end, committed to what he believed was better for everyone and sacrificed HIMSELF too. I can respect the cunning and machiavellian person who, in the end, is above the vanity of a 'savior' and can give themselves too, not only others. He also did share his power with some humans, showing that he can take kinda benevolent choices even with those he fears. Yeah, part of calculated risk could be there; dude gave the city and his daughter to the Pygmy to, again, preemptively avoid some animosity. But in the case with the four kings, did he HAVE to? Or Seath for that matter, who is a dragon, another species he doesn't like?

I find it hard to detect 'truly' corrupt people in Soulsborne setting in general, and yeah we can fiddle with 'nuanced character' and 'everyone is morally grey' forever and never discover THE big bad we'd love to hate. But, out of those big bads, I think he deserves the benefit of being seen as a way more nuanced character than the corrupt leader the most! It is the case where he should not have done anything, but also should not have NOT done anything.. Soulsborne is eager with placing characters in a position and knowledge where every choice is wrong and they just pick a poison for themselves (and everyone else xd). Jokes about "haha people in power moment" are still mostly jokes for me. He is sympathetic in a way not like I think I'd have done the same (let's be real, I revel in darkness gfjjghk) but in a way where I understand too much to feel negative 🤔

[calamitaswrath]

Cal Lucia plays Fire Emblem Path of Radiance: Chapter 8

Just two stray thoughts before I get to the actual chapter - one, for as much as I enjoy the game overall thus far, I have to say that music isn't really all that remarkable. The track that plays on certain maps when they are almost cleared is nice, but it's the only song I really enjoy (which is probably not surprising given that it also made it into Smash). The track that plays when Daein generals like Petrine are on screen meanwhile is just. . . silly.

Not to constantly compare the game to the modern FEs, but with Greil in particular, I feel there's def a comparison to be made with Jeralt in Three Houses. To be more precise, I just feel that Greil's death has more weight to it since the first seven chapters (plus prologue) of the game really took their time to not only set him up, but also his connection to the mercenaries, and how they play off of him. Jeralt, by contrast. . . he doesn't really interact that much with anybody, and since Byleth is functionally mute in 3H, the impact of his death solely hinges on the connection the player forms with him. It really works just better in PoR, and not just because Ike isn't mute.

Ouh, case in point! A flashback (that seems to take place in the exact spote where Greil got killed), a CG illustration of Ike and Mist at the tombstone. . . that's the good stuff.

Ahhhhh and Titania putting her own grief aside the moment she notices Ike showing up! Ike apologizing to her and Soren, thanking them for sticking with him!

And exit Shinon and Gatrie. Shinon was just about expected, but I am lowkey surprised that Gatrie left with him. From a gameplay perspective I can understand it, since he also was a pre-promote, but from his writing, he always seemed more onboard with Ike than Shinon did. But then again, given the 🏳️‍🌈 vibes between them. . .

Oh, the way Ike assumes responsibility. . . it definitely reminds me of Chrom taking over as exalt in Awakening. And, given that Ike doesn't have to share the protag status with two other characters, I hope that unlike Awakening, this gets properly resolved and developed

Soren is pretty humble here, huh? That's some of the basis for their chemistry then, I take it

Ahh, finally stuff like the convoy, buying items and supports get introduced. . . really rather late for my liking, but at least it neatly ties into the story here

Only got one support unlocked so far, which is the C support between Ike and Oscar. Good found family content in that one, though! And lol @ Mist's cooking.

"Info". . .? Not quite sure what to make of that menu point. But Aimee and Muston! I've definitely seen Aimee before, in one of those "Ike doesn't care about affection from women" posts. I'll gladly take her affection though

Jorge and Daniel. I have no comment. ...No, literally. They don't stand out enough in any way

Huh. . . the more I look at it. . . is this "Info" point just little bonus scenes? Just saw Titania's. . . woof. That's good content.

Ahh, bonus experience! I've heard a bit about that gameplay mechanic. . . and also already learned that I missed out on a lot on that escape map when I had Ike escape first. I hope that future chapters actually tell you what these bonus objectives are. . .

I levelled up Mia once with this and she got stats on everything except for resistence???

Well, doesn't that just look like another defend map!

Mist's medallion is glowing again. How unimportant.

Why, an enemy unit who's a cute girl and not the boss? She's definitely not important.

Three clear chokepoints, and enemies that just approach you one after another. Pretty doable. The cleric with the fire jewel tried to escape, but I managed to track him down with Titania and get the thing.

Mist talking about wanting to die alongside Ike?? Holy shit, that's dark

Oh my. Big buff cat man Mordecai. . . I remember a post about somebody wanting to fuck him, and then needing to clarify that they didn't mean a cartoon bird by the same name

Lethe! Honestly surprised that it took this long for them to introduce a catgirl. And she doesn't immediately trust Ike and the others. . . that's neat.

Ah. Soren does a racism. I did wonder why he's more divisive among some people, so I guess that'd do it

You know, for how antagonist Lethe was just a moment ago, she did calm down very quickly here, mission or not

[demonogeny]

If Secto had to leave his hosts body for anything (maybe a lil swim or something) where do you think he would store the Steef?

Do you think he'd have back up hosts incase the other escaped? I feel like he would idk.

This will be a long answer, I tried my best to rewrite it as concisely as possible. TW for abuse under the cut.*

OKTIGI HOST STORAGE. I remember Lorne stating in one of the Discodd chat podcasts that when Oktigis attend meetings at bathouses to discuss businesss and Magog Cartel matters, they get off their hosts and basically leave them in cryogenic storage, that much is canon at least in the podcasts. So I imagine Sekto, like other wealthy Oktigis, having his own cryogenic chambers for storing hosts in a similar way rich people have those fancy big closets. I imagine these storage units being a bit diverse, it's basically just more furniture to them. Some of these units could be singular pods, some may span a whole room, some may not be cryogenic and instead opt for suspension. The usage I imagine consists of the Oktigi entering the open chamber and leaving the host in there undressed and in a dazed state, then removing themselves from the host with the help of the unit's mechanism such as simply hoping onto a waiting platform, the chamber would then close and begin a temperature descent util it reaches the cryogenic effect without killing and while monitoring vitals and helping mantain functions, it would probably need to be adjusted per species or selected from a set catalogue. You can now find a drawing of this on my blog after this post.

BACKUP HOSTS. I do indeed think that is very common, especially with wealthier Oktigis, to have more than one host to choose from or as a backup, as well as there being a market to buy them and the practice to discard them, as one would do with outfits, Oktigis can have preferences and types they search after and they probably judge and compare eachother's hosts too, maybe Mike over there looks like a wimp compared to how big and strong Dave looks with his huge chad alpha male new host, maybe Becky is jealous that Maddie's host has huge bimbo bazongas, maybe Henry wants to have a secondary host with bazongas too. I do also think that Oktigis do have favorite and main hosts whenever they have many and that they have different preferences and behaviors towards them; some Oktigis could keep their hosts well groomed and healthy while others completely neglect and maim them, some may see them as no more than mere objects, or pets or form one sided bonds with them that could go from just a little endearment like a favorite shirt to romantic and lustful feelings or all the way to making them their main victim of abuse which I will elaborate on further in the case of Sekto because I think it's probably what he did

SEKTO AND THE OLDEN STEEF HOST. Going back to Sekto I would imagine that he does have or at least has had a couple of hosts to spare at the same time, he has the means for it, however I personally think that he is one of those Oktigis that have gotten too attached to a specific host, I say this because as far as I understand he has had the Old Steef as a host for quite a long while and that poor man is in such bad condition that he even looks to be blind and dying since a while ago, even if Sekto likes the build and strenght Steef have he had an ample supply of younger more suitable and healthy ones but he chose to keep this one who is specifically referred to as old even before he was his, to me it looks like that host just hasn't had any rest from being used since the beginning...

*TW starts here*

...and judging by what little is shown about Sekto throughout his limited screentime it would seem fitting, Sekto seems intensely and needlessly cruel, sadistic, hateful and vengeful, especially against this species. I personally think that Sekto took this Steef who seems to have been the local protector or leader of his local people and posibbly the biggest symbol of hope they had and really wanted to drive that cruelty in by turning him into nothing but a helpless and pityful victim, forcing his voice and his hands to directly be part of all the orders and actions that would direct the genocide of his people and the Grubbs as well as the stealing of the water and the lands he once protected. I like this idea because it would add much more weight to both Sekto and the Steef as characters as well as their relationship and background in the story, and of course to the ending where not only the water is free but so is the Olden Steef too. To me it would seem that Sekto hasn't made much use of other hosts ever since this one because of that, I personally imagine that he has formed a very strong negative attachment like this because he just seems to be fucked up like that and clearly obsessed with Steef, let alone this little living prize of his, he probably intended to terrorize, torture and violate the Olden Steef mentally and phisically as well as symbolically until he gave his very last breath, and he was almost able to. And I love that for them honestly, that's fucked up and tragic, that adds so much more to them and I enjoy it, gives me the feelz.

[niuniente]

I went to sleep for a while and asked some guidance from the Universe within 48h. Funny, I can’t remember to what I asked the guidance to but I got it.

In the dream, I was kind of astral traveling; being there while not physically being there. I was in Ukraine. Ukraine had a space program and they were just making a lift off to a space with a shuttle. It had a male pilot and a female pilot. Unfortunately, as they had publicly announced the date and time for the lift off, Russia knew about this. I watched as the shuttle took off and at the same time, a missile closes the station. It hits the station under the shuttle, creating a huge cloud of fire and pressure. The space shuttle hasn’t gotten high enough yet and the explosion hits it. The shuttle starts to fall and I watch in horror how it slowly spins over my head and behind the buildings near me. I’m sad and concerned, thinking why they had to announce the date publicly as the enemy will get that information. Until this, there has been 17 days with no fights or shootings.

The public is told that the shuttle crashed the other side of the globe and both pilots died. I’m in some kind of a space structure which is somehow connected to the shuttle. It spins and spins and I can’t stop the spinning. I can only hold on a bar in front of me.

Next, I’m out in the space. The shuttle has not crashed the Earth but has made outside Earth’s atmosphere is the space. It’s still spinning and out of control. Both pilots are alive and well. I understand that the pilots were able to return to Earth but it was done in secrecy and now they’re telling their experience to some governmental investigation unit, as they were rescued and returned by aliens. I hear this as a narrative in my dream as I watch what happened to them.

To their rescue arrives an UFO. A classic plate shape, dark metallic in color. The woman pilot starts to narrate the events. She says how suddenly, an UFO appeared on top of their shuttle and stopped its spinning. The aliens took them to safe ground. I think it is a really big asteroid. The ground is slightly rocky, partially uneven and full of grey very fine sand. There are no objects, like a moon or a sun, on the sky but it’s just dark space with stars. It’s very quiet place with no life on it.

The woman narrates that the aliens looked like little frogs with their cute small mouth. I see the aliens and they are around 40cm tall cute froggy creatures. They’re wearing red-white space suits with no gloves (they’ve got free fingers) and they can croak a bit like frogs. They’re very friendly and kind.

One of the aliens somehow slips the female pilot out of her body through her head, which amuses her. She says “And then, I was outside of my body” with a chuckle. I understand the aliens want to show her that there’s more than the physical world she’s familiar with.

Next, the male pilot starts to narrate the dream and tell his experience. He’s taken in front of a transparent, a brown tinted tall screen (an alien friendly takes him there by his hand). On the screen, there’s lots of texts and numbers and in the middle, a diagram of a human body. In the middle of the body, along the chakra line, runs line of dots marked with numbers like S99, MO121 etc. The same way as in some acupuncture charts describing Meridian lines:

I know that the screen is full of information of light, and that the man is a specialist in light in physics. Anything you can possibly know about light in physical sense, he knows it all. I understand that the man and a woman were schemed to work together by the Universe, so that they could get this information.

The man looks at the chart, and then says, excited: “The light needs to be pooled and centered here”, showing the spot around stomach (sacral chakra) of the diagram human. He, as well as I, understand that if the light isn’t there and if it isn’t directed to that spot and kept there bright, humans can’t function properly. There will be sicknesses and other ailments. We all need the same light and we can direct it there anytime we want.

As soon as the male pilot gets this epiphany, he draws on the sand an image of Egyptian Sun God Ra. Ra is wearing a helmet with two “horns” and in between these horns, the man draws a wide circle symbolizing this light he has just discovered. It’s like an epiphany of divine light and divine masculinity. When the picture of Ra is finished, the man emerges with it, turning into the image. It becomes alive and turns to face us all, all strong and powerful and all-knowing.

Next, the aliens and the woman, as well as this man - now somehow also back in his own body while also being in the image of Ra - sit on their knees in a circle. They have lifted both of their hands up in the air and they sing in unknown language, which to me sounds a bit like Spanish. In the middle of them, above the circle they have made, a circle of light appears. It’s made of light orbs which are in a circle, and it spins, rising higher. I know the aliens and the humans are singing glory to this light and summoning it at the same time, too.

I want to join them. I’m on my knees a bit out of the circle, on the side lines. I lift my hands up towards the light and want to sign, but I don’t know the lyrics or the language. As soon as I lift my hands, an invisible male figure appears behind me. He gently brings my hands down with his, pinning them behind my back softly. At the same time, he somehow presses or pulls me to rest against his chest. He telepathically says to me, softly: “No. Let the God do the work.”

I’m so relieved that I start to sob and wake up in tears.

This goes together with the dream I had a few days ago where I saw on my sister’s altar a card which just said “We will handle this”.

[paragonrobits]

currently having a lot of extremely intense and angry thoughts about people still refusing to stop obsessing over how much they hate Steven Universe and engaging in the series in bad faith specifically to make it look worse and sound more smug about it, and its too much for me to convey but some best hits of my ragesplosion is as follows:

- frustration with fandom for consistently refusing to engage with the Gems as being robots bound and constrained by their programming; the words in your head will beat you every time. This is the reading that just makes SENSE; the show all but implicitly states this is their problem. They are robots, and only by meeting other life can they understand there is another way and grow to be more than what they were created to be. So I can’t stand how people insist on Gems being allegories for literally everything under the sun but just taking them at face value never comes up, which also mirrors the way a lot of the SU haters seem to think that allegory is the only form of creative work.

- constantly going ‘THE DIAMONDS ARE FASCISTS AND DOING LITERALLY ANYTHING BUT MURDERING THEM IS APOLOGISM’. No. Just no. The Diamonds are not fascists. They cannot BE fascists. The pedantic point is that only humans have created political systems such as that, while the Diamonds by all accounts were specifically created for the purpose they inhabit; Peridots maintain, Quartzes fight, Sapphires advise, and the Diamonds create. Its��� what they do. Its what they ARE. Only humans, the point suggests (and is deliberately worded to annoy the people who insist on depicting humans as uniquely important) have the capacity of evil to create such political systems.

But no, that’s not the point. The actual point here ties to the above; the Diamonds don’t do what they do for power, but a terrible flaw in worldview. They are chained by programming, as much as any Gem, part of the system and part of the problem; there is less a case of deliberate malice and more being so wound up in their function that they, and their society as a whole, cannot conceive of themselves as individuals. They must be liberated from the system that made them, and its very much a robot revolution kind of story, being freed from the chains of directive.

Another way to look at it, as simply as possible, is that the Diamonds aren’t leaders; we SEE Gem society making leaders in Future, and the Diamonds are very explicitly not a part of that. The Diamonds have several roles; they produce all other Gems, they occupy a leader role due to the unthinking adoration and influence they command without really being leaders or good at it... they’re hive queens. They’re eusocial units similar to termite or bee queens, constantly producing more Gems through their particular means.

This means that what we see in-show is a curious mix of the sort of society that comes about as a direct result of a mix of what would happen if a eusocial insect species developed into a full fledged society and took that to its logical extremes, and the aforementioned bits about being robots trapped by programming. Its a story concept that DEMANDS to be taken at face value, and loses a lot whenever you try to read it as any kind of metaphor

- people who still hate this show. I mean COME ON. It’s been years, people. You’ve had so many other shows where you get ‘scrappy heroes beat the Empire’. You can let go of this show already, you don’t have to keep obsessively hating it for not having the heroes murder all their opponents, not having Earth suddenly develop military power and commit genocide by nuking an entire world (and there is something to be said for how the people advocating this apparently don’t consider it genocide if its done in reprisal, or that its unforgivable for nonhumans to treat us as lesser but we don’t owe them the same; its a human centric viewpoint).

- related to the above, the sort of people who endlessly chase after the latest flavor of the month waifu and go ‘X CHARACTER WAS THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THIS SHOW’. no. it was always good, you’re being weird about it.

- for some reason there seems to be a venn diagram that’s a circle for people who hate SU and the exact same people who hate Transformers for being about alien robots with the implication that they hate both series for not making humans the center of the universe and the most powerful beings in the universe

- people complain for years about wanting more mentally ill female characters and more morally complex female characters and when Pearl and Rose Quartz show up respectively they constantly yell about how bad they are and how much they hate these two and they’re bad role models

- the biggest thing being this thought i’m having a hard time articulating but it goes something like this; SU is a fantastical series with a ton of interesting stuff with magic and weirdness and people just keep wanting to ignore and flatten that to focus on the Relatable stuff that they ignore most of the main cast being incredibly alien nonhuman beings and have thrown a nearly decade long temper tantrum first over the pilot designs not being used and Garnet not having skinny hips, and it just kept escalating from there so now you have this whole sub culture on the internet of people being pompous snobs about how much they hate this show

[viatrix-glow]

I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED MY RENDERS/LAYOUTS/WHATEVER FOR MY ENSTARS OC….. and now i will dump a bunch of information about her 🤲🏽

here’s some outfits for her!! tbh the winter one was made on the spot soooo idk if it’ll actually stay

here’s the faux scout cards <3 they took way too long to make and yes i stole the bg of the second one from mika’s card (the first is also from the game). i’m not drawing a background

heres some more info about her. no organization im just gonna spout some rapid fire facts. keep in mind she is a little bit (a lot bit) of a self indulgent oc <3

-she is what i am dubbing a fill-in idol. essentially, she’s an idol who fills in for other units when they’re missing a member for a performance . this is why she works with valkyrie most often (she can take the roll of shu or nazuna for ex songs)

-her first name comes from a song (hikari by royal scandal). no real reason i just like the song lol

-she left switch on very good terms (she’s still besties with all 3 of them). she just left because she thought the unit functioned better as a trio (“you three shine brighter on stage without me~”) she still performs with them from time to time though (usually for smaller audiences, or she just joins them for practice)

-she’s been friends with mika since before they entered yumenosaki (they applied together), and became close to arashi in her first year too. she had planned on trying out for valk alongside him, but got caught up with switch

-speaking of switch! she runs into tsumugi on the day that he first visits the library (with the key rei gives him to get into the secret area) and recognizes him as one of the fine members . she goes with him to the library and meets natsume there (same scene as canon just. she’s there .) she gets along really well with him (and with mugi), which is why she ends up as a member of switch during her second year.

-she used to have a crush on nazuna (product of watching the performances and going to mika’s practices) . not really relevant i just wanted to throw it out there. does she have a crush on someone now? i don’t know

-her last name (yuuta) is intentionally the same as my twst oc, aurelia . they are sisters (aurelia is the older one by a year and a few months -(her bday is 2/2)). my thought is that when aurelia is sent to the world of twst, somehow the people who know her in her or world forget about her, so hikari doesn’t remember her as of now .

-she works part time at the same diner/restaurant/whatever as niki. he has to teach her a Lot about cooking though (she’s getting better)

-she absolutely Hates hates hatesssss rinne and crazy:b when they first start to cause trouble. she’s very protective over her friends and the other idols at es. even though she dislikes eichi for everything he did, she recognizes and appreciates the work he’s put into making es. she doesn’t like how crazy:b throws themselves into others live shows (live shows are so important and personal to units!!), and she gets very snappy and upset with them for it. however, she does her best to keep the peace when she’s around them because they’re under the same agency. after the main story stuff in !! finished though she begins to understand the position rinne +the bees were in, and she starts to forgive them and grow somewhat close to them. i would put them in the frenemies area

-i think her shuffle unit would be flambé!…? i tried to make it branco since they only have 4 members, but since she works with sora so often i think that disqualifies her. i really would like her to be in blend+ but again. same problem

-i think she’s close with anzu too. girlies gotta stick together! her, anzu and naru can go out for girls nights together

-the only unit she doesn’t really fill in for is 2wink because . the whole twin dynamic. kinda hard to replace one . and mam/doubleface obv

ok i’m running out of thoughts it’s 12am but that’s my oc!!!! if u read all of this thank you i love u <3

[sungtaro]

teubun here, I love that nickname 🐇 I loved reading ur reply sm! I love LOVE hearing people talk abt smithing they love so much and are so passionate about 🩷🥺 I will check everything u said soon !! esp wanna watch that variety u said. the last thing u said abt their friendships was so endearing it made my heart flutter 💓💓 so I wanted to ask what dynamics and friendships do u see in treasure?

omg yaaay pls keep me posted on everything you check out! 💖 and i'm so glad you're also a dynamic / friendship enthusiast sjgknfj there are so many good ones in trsr ... i ended up writing so much again JKSGB and i still am like this is barely even scratching the surface 😂

they all went through a lot together with their survival show (yg treasure box aka ygtb aka my behated) but even before that, a few of them were trainees together for a really long time (hyunsuk, junkyu, yedam, jihoon, and doyoung in korea; yoshi, haruto, mashiho and asahi in japan). hyunsuk basically helped raise doyoung, that's how young he was when they started training together, they're still one of my favorite duos because of that. some of my favorite friendships that i think are like, very real / would exist outside of the context of the group: jihoon and junkyu (total soulmate same age friends, they are HILARIOUS together), jaehyuk and asahi (another same age pair, i think they really bring out the best in each other), haruto and asahi (literally could have had their own rooms but opted to share one instead so that they could make a hangout room and work on music together), and then jeongwoo and jaehyuk (these two are honestly more like actual brothers) -- and that unit of the 4 of them (0104 line!) are basically a functioning family lol they are ALWAYS together in some combination or another. i also love the friendship and dynamic between jihoon and hyunsuk as coleaders, i think it was so smart to have both of them leading the group, they complement each other really well and again there is so much mutual respect and a shared vision for the type of culture they wanted to create for the entire group. you can tell how much the other members look up to them 🥹 yoshi and hyunsuk are also a duo that are often together, junghwan is often with 0104 as well, i really miss yedam with doyoung and junkyu specifically, and mashiho with doyoung 🥲 jeongwoo and any of his hyungs is absolutely hilarious. asahi finding junkyu to be the funniest member is a fun fact that i really love also lol like it's kind of unexpected but it makes sense - there's a lot of little fun bits like that within a group so big.

i also recommend checking out their t-talks where they pair 2 members up to chat (they just rebooted this series with new videos recently, but there are older ones that are really fun to watch bc some of the pairs are still super awkward at the time lol), it's cool to see some duos that you don't normally see opting to hang out together. really any combination will give you something interesting -- if it's not besties or brotherhood, it's maybe an older member seeing themselves in a younger member (jihoon has said this of jaehyuk for example), or differing points of view have helped each other learn or see something in a new light and been helpful to them. and they're a pretty affectionate group too which is what my irl bestie really took to them for haha she said it was really refreshing to see a group of boys that was so openly loving like that -- i know this isn't necessarily unique to trsr because kpop is known for skinship, but she wasn't a kpop fan before i showed them to her, and the affection also encompasses their consideration for each other so it's not just about them being snuggly haha (although that is cute too)! many of them i really don't think would have ever been friends outside of the group honestly but one thing they have ALL done is worked hard to work together and understand each other to be one team 🥹

[meenawrites]

Apologies and Explanations

... Hello...

I'm just going to launch straight into profuse apologies for basically disappearing here and on A03 for probably more than a year now? Yikes. I'm really sorry to everyone who's been waiting for fics to update or the people who took notice and tried to check in on me. Honestly the explanation seems paltry from the place I'm in now, but I'm going to explain to the best of my ability anyway. 

Around the time I disappeared on here, my family was going through a bit of a crisis. My grandma was in the urgent care unit because of Covid and it wasn't looking good. To top it off, my mental health and OCD which I have been struggling with since 2020 at this point (yikes) took a nose dive at the same time and began affecting basically all of my hobbies. Even writing fics became painful and felt dangerous in a way so I just stopped. I didn't know how to explain (and still don't frankly) so I just kind of dropped off the face of the Earth for a bit. I don't know how to explain without going into the nitty gritty about my OCD which is not something I feel comfortable doing here to be honest. 

Thankfully, my grandma did make a miraculous recovery, which relieved a lot of months-long stress for the family, but my mental health was still bad and I was honestly scared of engaging in any hobbies I enjoyed, including tumblr and A03 but also most forms of reading in general. It was honestly a tough time, but thankfully over this last year or so I've gotten much better and I'm in a much more comfortable place now. That's not to see everything is behind me, but I am certainly functioning much better and have been able to go back to things I enjoy. 

Part of the reason I've been gone so long is because I unfortunately felt really embarrassed for disappearing for these reasons, which I know is dumb and I should have come back sooner and just explained, but I felt unexplainably ashamed in a way that this had all affected me so much and that I hadn't been able to pull myself out sooner. 

But I've finally decided enough is enough and I miss this community and engaging with people so I am back. I understand if anyone is mad at me for disappearing with no explanation and not answering. I just hope that you can forgive me and I will be trying my best from here on out. 

To anyone who actually read this whole thing, thank you so much. 

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

warnings for this chapter: none really, ngl. just very honest and open conversation. but same as all the other warnings in previous chapters, just be cautious if you see anything that may trigger you. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around me, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day I took off my watch. My hands were shaking, the anticipation inside me about to explode like fireworks. I balled my hands up into fists and put them in my sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because I could feel my palms getting sweaty.

I glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. I raised my hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at me. I watched her run further and further away until they were out of my line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. I turned my attention back to the door, and lifted my hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before I was able to, Will opened the door.

I froze, my hand still in the air. I lowered my arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before I was met with a faceful of door. I should have seen that coming. I leaned my head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” I hesitated, digging my nails into my palms. This was likely going to be my first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but I figured I might as well get everything off my chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

I closed my eyes with my head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when I felt a light thump right next to my face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to my ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. My stomach nervously flipped as I cleared my throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” I trailed off. What was I trying to say? How could I reduce my love for Will into a single sentence? How could I explain myself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? I couldn’t. I was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. I asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” I tried to add a bit of humor to my voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. I set my hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” I felt the doorknob click below, and I lifted my head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and I were little, we functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, I was happy. When Will would cry, I would cry with him. Now, I felt like I was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed myself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

Will crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down towards the ground, still on the defensive. But his voice betrayed him when he said, “No, please don't worry about me. It’s fine. And I…” his voice wobbled, “I’m sorry for slamming the door. I was just so…”

I nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

I took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. I wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” I heard myself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of us began awkwardly laughing while still crying. I had to refrain from thinking too much, because if I did, I'd get all sentimental about how this was the first time I'd laughed with Will in… I couldn’t even remember. 

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought my approval, after everything. Of course I liked it. I liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had me falling flat on my face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” I told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” I thought of that one time I'd walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded me…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” I apologized, picking at the nails of my index fingers with my thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Will replied quickly, eyes wide. “I was being a total asshole that day. I know this doesn’t excuse what I said to you, but I’ll have you know I’d just failed an English test–”

“Did you not read the material?” I smirked, and Will smiled back up at me, our eyes fully meeting for the first time. 

“You know me too well,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

I gawked at that, my eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” I ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than I remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. My gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and my mouth went dry when I realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt I had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“But yeah,” Will continued, “leave it to Matt Winters to ruin the one day of the year where I don’t feel like shit. So when you called, I’d just gotten back home. And I felt so guilty for snapping at you and hanging up that I didn’t call you back after the fact, because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” I emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and I feared I'd said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to my forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then we’d need to call an ambulance. Because I was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” I deadpanned at the joke, despite myself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could I be mad at Will for that? Why would I be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like I had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if I did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, I'd be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. I figured I'd come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why I was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should I say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” My focus shifted down to my shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But I didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. My head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at my biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” I quipped back. I decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and we were back in my basement again. Those were Will’s last words to me before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where I’d tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” I listed off what I'd endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. I tacked the only thing I could think of onto the end of my list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. I wished it was my hand instead. As I took in Will’s jarred reaction, my world went cold. It made more sense when I shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on my eyelids. I lowered my gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” I concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and I diverted my eyes back to the ground. I watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. We were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting me out for the last time, giving me the closure I'd practically begged for. I lifted my head so I could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for me?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and I raised my eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if I'd ever seen one. I took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. I took off my mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if I tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. I expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, I took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that I knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. I walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. I peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. I knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. I smiled to myself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one I had on my desk, the photo that Jonathan took of me on Will’s handlebars. I felt like crying again, so I looked away before that could happen. My attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. I guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” I asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what I thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

I hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

I shook my head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards me.

“I had one, Will!” I tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?” I phrased the last part of my sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to me in order to poke my chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and I feigned offense as I felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in my sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch my entire torso. Will was close enough that I could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. My eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and I fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” I breathed, and Will processed what I had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

I observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of me. I hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made me think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, I thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” I said as I glared back at Will, giving away my joking nature with a small lift of my lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. I gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next. 

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told me, ambition in his tone. I wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. I shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to me.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking my much larger hand in his own, intertwining our fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” I felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I glanced down at our connected hands as Will spoke again, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. I blinked, pulling my attention back up to Will’s face. How was I supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when our palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less. 

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now I had to say yes. I gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of my hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last me for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making me pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed me standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for me to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on me.

We made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while I hopped up on the counter like when we were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed me from where I stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to me. I took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way I took my coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how I felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and I died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” I frowned, sipping my coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to me as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— my sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. I set my coffee down next to me and shifted so my hands were squished under my thighs. That way I wouldn’t be able to do what I truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove my tongue down his throat as I ran my fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, I thought, but held my tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. I preened at the praise as I pulled one of my hands out from under my leg to pick up my mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on me for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. I watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. I was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking me out.

“But what about you?” I asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. I nodded at what Will was telling me, but something else dwelled in the forefront of my mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” I asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” I remarked slowly, trying my best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed me a plate, and I thanked him as we dug in, the two of us standing at (and sitting on) the counter as we ate. I cut into my pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with my fork and swirling it around in the syrup on my plate. I looked up when I heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met my gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. I blushed when I realized I’d been staring, and quickly focused back on my own plate. I chewed the piece of pancake I’d cut and confirmed to myself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes I’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

I turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at me already. Will’s eyes jumped from me to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to me all within the span of five seconds. I held his attention this time when I licked my lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, I felt like I was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, I noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once we’d finished our pancakes and put our dishes in the sink, Will and I headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break my heart.

I admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before I came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. I remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to my house to celebrate, Will had brought all of our friends into a secluded area of the house and told us he was gay. I, who had been head over heels in love with my best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in my head. Maybe I had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure I knew it. So I withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing myself along like I had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” I said more to myself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to me, close enough that our arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at me, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take me back in time to before my world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” I looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face me before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to remember it. Hell, I didn’t want to think about it. But me took a second to reason with myself, because Will was standing beside me, Will was asking something of me, and the least I could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So I told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and I was lying on the basement couch with my legs hanging off the edge. My eyes were closed, and I wore my headphones which were attached to my Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as I had from the second it fell into my hands back in 1986. I felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. I cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when I registered that it was Will who was entering my space. I always loved when Will came to my house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” I sat up, pulling my headphones fully off my head and resting them around my neck. Then I saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. My eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? I thought I'd hidden them well enough. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken, because Will held my letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. I couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” I wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” I squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and I flinched. I'd never seen Will this angry before. I stood up then, my face on fire with inferiority from when I’d been on the couch as Will towered over me. Now, I was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” I kept my tone soft, what the Party called my Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. I was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on my mind when I thought about Will. When I thought about Will, I felt safe, I felt hopeful, I felt valuable, and I felt worthy. What I felt for Will was pure love, and I'd say it out loud… if I didn’t hate myself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” I told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” I continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when I had Will caged in between my arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto my wrist, our watches positioned side by side. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting myself in preparation for what I was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

I opened my eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, I could hear Will’s heartbeat. I licked my lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, I leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of my life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. I wanted to kiss Will forever. I allowed myself, for once in my life, to take what I wanted, and moved my hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of my pent-up passion, holding him close. I felt Will’s hands meet my shoulders, and… he was pushing me away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to me? I'd just bared my soul to the love of my life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of me. I wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” I said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like I'd always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook my hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of my reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” I pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” I took back what I’d thought about not being afraid of Will. I was terrified. I watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. I put a hand up to my mouth, muffling a sob.

What had I done?

I stopped my pacing for a moment to breathe. I'd gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. I looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at me with that same blank expression, and I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting me where I was at, and placing a hand on my arm. I didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning me caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took my chin and moved it so our eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

“Because I had convinced myself that you could never love me the way I loved you. But all of a sudden you were telling me that you loved me romantically and wanted to be with me forever! How can you blame me for being thrown off?”

I shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And I meant it; I couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because I had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held my chin lowered down to the space between my neck and my shoulder, and he went to reply, but I spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along my sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” my tone was rough as I crossed my arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” I softened my voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of us at once.

I looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking my eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to me and pulled my hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath my skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and I looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” I admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as I spoke. I was not proud of the person I'd become. I relived every single one of my mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured me like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. I slowed my movements before confessing something else, something I never thought I’d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and I was quick to comfort him, my hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” I hesitated, uncertainty flooding my thoughts, but I swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” I asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

I pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling my body instantly as Will’s head fell against my chest, right over my heart. I could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that my heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up my back, pulling me down slightly by my shoulderblades. I nestled my nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, I opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only I would remember it happening. As we stood there, our bodies flush against one another, I knew I didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Will and I held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what I had been waiting for. Just this. I finally felt whole again.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but I was sure of the fact that both of us were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” I laughed, practically slapping my sweatshirt sleeve up to my face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and I remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of my emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” I continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto my chest again as my hands ran up and down Will’s sides. I memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing my hands upwards until my hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” I said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from my chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on my hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around my lower back. 

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told me, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” I felt my jaw drop, barely able to process what I was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around my brain, and I might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. I needed Will to pinch me, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn’t real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for me, I pinched myself, and felt butterflies erupt in my stomach when I didn’t snap my eyes open to the sight of my bedroom back in Indianapolis. I was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding me rather sensually, and I felt so fucking alive. 

“So… where do we go from here?” I whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. I backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of my mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on me. I'd gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” I said, almost a reflex at this point in my life. I always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing my wrist before I could get too far. He pulled me back in sharply and grabbed me by the back of my neck, tugging me all the way down until our lips collided. I let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as I shoved my hands into Will’s hair, raising my head as I leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While my hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved me everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from my lower back, up my torso, past my chest, around the back of my head to brush the nape of my neck, through my long hair, then back down to grope my ass. I squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through my body and set me ablaze. I lowered my grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way I'd wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss and looked up, smirk on his lips. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” I tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, turning us around and backing me up until my calves hit the base of Will’s bed. I was sure I had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and I whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed me backwards until my back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. I had thought Will would only call me that in my dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. I watched as Will climbed on top of me, one leg on either side of my waist, and leaned down to kiss me, nice and slow. I ran my tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let me in immediately. We continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted my arms up so they were pinned above my head, and I quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down my neck. I smiled at the ceiling. I loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved me. All was right with the world.But I would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

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[dallasareaopinion]

Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) is failing Dallas

First of all I do have to admit I do not have much experience riding mass transit, however the ones I have rode are significantly much better than what Dallas is giving us right now. Second I have always felt one reason for rapid transit is to help get cars off the road. And if there is ever a city that needs to get cars off the road it is Dallas. Two other cities that could use reduced traffic that I know of are Los Angeles and Houston. I have spent some time in both of those cities and all day long traffic just doesn’t benefit anyone, however I live in the Dallas area so I will want to talk about where we stand.

I am going to speak most specifically about the train system, yet I have traveled by bus in Dallas and Austin long before the DART train system was ever built. Basically at various times in my life I have tried to do what is right for our environment and use mass transportation. And if you live in Texas you already know that is actually a bit of a chore.

My experiences using train or metro systems previously include Washington DC, London and Madrid. I first used the metro in DC when I was a teenager and outside of getting the hang of it so to speak I managed to get around quite well. It was not a large system at that time, yet it got me to where I wanted to go. I have used it since including recently with my youngest daughter who lives there now. My family once visited DC in the early 2000’s and rode it from a hotel outside of DC into downtown and it was rather nice generally speaking. By no means I am saying it is perfect, but it is definitely functional and has only minimal of the problems that Dallas has.

I spent a week or so in London while I was in college and rode their system extensively. We did not rent a car so to go anywhere we had to use their metro system. And it got us around the entire London area including riding out to the equivalent of suburbs in the United States. I was able to find some pretty unique things to do and had no trouble getting there. The trains ran regularly and same as DC has little of the same problems that plaques Dallas.

We also spent a week in Madrid and pretty much the same. We had to use the system to get around and outside of the forced marches our daughter took us on (family joke) it was very beneficial. The phrase it is just over there means something completely different to a college student than an older couple.

Another aspect of these other systems is that you can connect to trains that go to places less than a hundred miles away so there are day trip options you just don’t have from Dallas even though there are places you could go that would be entertaining for tourists visiting Dallas.

The problem is getting people to ride DART that normally drive. And I hate saying this, but DART does not manage its riders well. It is almost like DART is taking a Christian approach and letting the homeless and mentally unstable have carte blanche on their system. I saw an occasional problem in the above mentioned systems, but nothing like what goes on in Dallas. Even the regular riders that use mass transportation because they need it are frustrated.

I reread my first sentence and I guess I should clarify. I do ride DART in Dallas to get around for many reasons from going to work, to going to my doctor and for other various destinations. My wife and my oldest daughter do not want me to ride. My wife has been on DART trains and buses and she is just not comfortable with some of the clientele. And I understand why, there are people on the system that take away from feeling safe, secure, even healthy in fact way too many. Yes some people should be able to ride, but when the system is bogged down so much that regular riders are uncomfortable there is a general problem that needs to be addressed. No one wants to say it out loud because we all want to be considerate, yet for a system to work people have to see a benefit to riding it. That is not happening in Dallas and it is the people who need mass transportation to get to work, shopping or other necessities that provide the bulk of the revenue are hindered and uncomfortable and if they could they would not ride. This would of course doom DART.

I think most of the problem is a logistics problem with how DART is set up. I do not manage nor understand the management of mass transportation so I do not feel confident in making a complete overhaul recommendation, but it feels that is what is needed.

To be successful DART needs paying riders and to help make DART beneficial to Dallas many of those paying riders need to be people that would normally drive to work at the very least. And that will not happen until DART decides to address the problem with the people who are not just impoverished, but significantly marginalized. It sounds cruel, but they cannot continue to allow these people to be such a problem that other people do not want to use the system.

And I know we need to do more as a society to help the marginalized people, but if we also want to increase ridership and help those who need mass transportation to go about their daily lives, DART cannot be a surrogate answer to homelessness. I have seen fights between people who could barely understand who they are and for many average Americans they just aren’t going to accept this while riding. It is a harsh reality, but true that most Americans do not want these types of problems interfering with their lives or worse subject them to conditions that make them uncomfortable to downright scared.

I would love to continue to ride DART, but am under orders from family members not to even think about it. (I have though). It is rough when you have seen other cities do very well with their systems and outside of an occasional individual most riders are going about their general day and you feel little concern.

Management of DART may need to make some hard decisions or they will continue to struggle with limited ridership in a city that desperately needs them to fill up those trains.

And again I know we need to do more for the marginalized, yet those answers are even more difficult.

[teardownit]

DIY 4-bit CPU

Have you ever made a processor? I did. Took me just 12 microchips and a clock generator.

The processor can execute several commands, and programs can be written for it. The program code and input data are entered using micro switches, and the state of the output register is displayed by four LEDs, according to the number of bits.

At first glance, even this circuitry may seem very complex. Still, it consists of simple modules interconnected by data and control buses. Understanding each module's operation and interactions is relatively easy.

The primary function of a processor is to perform arithmetic and logical calculations. Therefore, our processor is naturally built around an arithmetic-logical unit (ALU).

As an ALU, we will use a full four-bit binary adder SN74HC283N. This chip is asynchronous; it adds two four-bit numbers and outputs a five-bit number (a four-bit number and a carry flag if there is an overflow).

If you are unfamiliar with the binary numeral system, it's high time to learn it. It is precisely the same as the decimal we're used to; its base number is 2 instead of 10.

0000b = 0, 0001b = 1, 0010b = 2, 0011b = 3, and so on until 1111b = 15.

If one adds 15 to 15, the resulting number is 30. The corresponding binary number is 11110b. That is 14 plus 16, or 1110b plus 10000b.

In other words, the carry flag here means the number 16, 2 to the fifth power. The SN74HC283N adder considers the presence of a carry flag at the input and outputs a carry flag to the output, which is why it is called a full adder.

So, we have a microchip with two inputs for four-bit binary numbers: A3..A0 and B3..B0.

Why does binary digit numbering start with zero? The digit's index is the power to the base; in our case, the base is 2.

0100b = 4 - 2 to the second power. 1000b = 8 - 2 to the third power. 1001b equals 2 to the third power plus two to the zero power, 8 + 1 = 9.

Any number to the zero power is equal to 1.

The microchip has a four-digit sum output S0..S3 and a carry flag output. It also has overflow input, but we won't use it, so we'll simply ground it. Thus, this input will always be a logical zero.

What can we do with the adder? We can add two binary numbers and receive their sum. We have a carry flag that indicates whether the adder has overflowed. We can add a binary number to 0 by entering 0000b (simply four 0 bits) into one of the inputs. The output will be the same number. You'll see in a moment how this is useful.

So, we've already got ourselves an ALU—not that capable, but enough for us to use. Next, the processor needs registers.

Registers are internal memory cells of the processor meant for direct access. From these exact registers, four-bit numbers arrive at the inputs of the ALU, and the resulting sum is written to them.

The register is based on a synchronous latch. Our asynchronous adder does not save data; its output momentarily pulls its pins low or high, corresponding to the input values.

(To be more precise, it happens almost instantly, but the performance of the SN74HC283N chip is so much greater than the clock frequency of our processor that we can ignore this "almost" part.)

Unlike the asynchronous adder, our synchronous flip-flop changes the state of its outputs only when it receives a clock pulse and is subject to "enable" signals at its control inputs. It will keep its state until the signals at the control inputs are permissive and a new clock pulse arrives.

We use a total of four identical 4-bit SN74HC161N registers in our processor. Strictly speaking, they are not just registers but much more sophisticated multifunctional chips—synchronous binary counters.

The SN74HC161N chip has a 4-bit input P0..P3 and a 4-bit output Q0..Q3, a carry flag output, a CLK clock input, and four control inputs.

The inverting asynchronous reset input ¬RST sets all 4 latches to zero whenever this input is driven low, regardless of the state of all other inputs.

A low level on the inverting parallel enables input ¬PE allows writing to register Q0..Q3 of data directly from input P0..P3. This will occur on the positive-going edge of the clock.

Parallel enable input is crucial for CPU design. This input allows us to connect all four registers' data inputs P0..P3.

This creates a parallel bus, and the data from it will be read and then written to Q0..Q3 output of the register with ¬PE input set low on the positive-going edge of the clock.

It is possible to set ¬PE input low for multiple registers at once. But we do not need to do it for our processor since it is supposed to output the result of any one of the four available commands to its dedicated corresponding register. We'll elaborate on it later in the text.

The data bus is marked as S0..S3 in the large diagram. The data goes there directly from the output of our ALU, the binary adder.

In addition to the data bus, our processor will have a reset line and a clock line. In other words, we'll connect the reset and clock inputs of all synchronous data-storing chips together.

Four LEDs are connected to the OUT Q0..Q3 register output, so we can see the binary number stored in this register.

In addition to reset and clock inputs, the SN74HC161N chip has count-enabled inputs CET and CEP. Both of these inputs must be high for the number at the output Q0..Q3 to increment at each positive edge of the clock pulse.

The two general-purpose registers, A and B, as well as the data output register OUT, have their CET and CEP inputs connected to the ground. Thus, counting is disabled, and the chip operates only as a latch register.

The program counter PC register connects these pins to the positive power terminal. Thus, the contents of this register will increase by 1 with each clock pulse while the ¬PE input is high.

If the ¬PE input is driven low, the program counter value will not increase by 1 in this cycle, and the PC register will store the number from the data bus instead.

This is useful for jump operators. After all, the program counter determines the address in program memory for the processor to execute the command in a given cycle. Here is the diagram of the program memory module.

The output of the PC register is the address bus A0..A3. It is 4-bit and thus can address 16 program memory locations.

The program memory controller is the SN74HC154N decoder. Fifteen of its sixteen outputs ¬Y0..¬Y15 are pulled high. One of the outputs is low, corresponding to the binary number A0..A3. This determines which program memory cell is read in a given cycle.

The program memory cell is an 8-bit microswitch. Bits with switch contacts closed are pulled low through diodes. And those with contacts open are pulled high through 10 kOhm resistors.

SN74HC540N is an inverting buffer. As a result, D0..D7 will have logical ones where the microswitch contacts are closed and logical zeros where they are open.

The LSBits D0..D3 store the value, the second binary operand for our ALU adder.

The MSBits D4..D7 contain the operation code, the actual command for the processor. The first operand for the ALU is selected by this very command.

If the SN74HC154N decoder is a 4 by 16 demultiplexer, then the SN74HC153N is, on the contrary, a dual 4 by 1 multiplexer. We need two of these dual multiplexers to load a single 4-bit operand into the ALU.

If A = 0, B = 0, the ALU will receive data from register A. If A = 1, B = 0, then the operand will be the contents of register B, and if A = 1, B = 1, then logical zeros.

Finally, when A = 0, B = 1, the operand is taken from the 4-bit microswitch, the input register.

Where do these SEL A and SEL B signals come from? As for SEL B, it's simply the fifth digit from the program memory cell, D5. D4, D6, and D7 proceed to the program decoder.

This decoder is put together based on two logical gate ICs. SN74HC10N is a dual 3NAND gate, and SN74HC32N is a quad 2OR gate.

The control line of the SEL A multiplexers is connected to the output of the OR gate. At the same time, its inputs receive bits D4 and D7 of program memory. If at least one or both are equal to one, then SEL A will be set high; otherwise, the output level will be low.

So, we can indicate where the operand for the ALU comes from using bits D4, D5, and D7. We must also let the processor know which register to store the additional result.

A low level on line ¬LOAD0 selects register A. ¬LOAD0 = D6 | D7, meaning register A will be selected for the result if both D6 and D7 are zeros.

We can already start understanding what some of the opcodes will do.

0000 - ADD A, Im. SELA = 0, SELB = 0. The contents of register A plus the immediate value from D3..D0 is loaded into register A.

0001 - MOV A,B if Im = 0, or A = B + Im. Loading the contents of B into A with the ability to add immediate value.

0010 - IN A with Im = 0 or A = IN + Im. Entering a number from the microswitches into register A, again with the ability to add a direct value. Any instruction has this opportunity since our ALU is an adder.

0011 - MOV A, Im. Loading the immediate value into register A. It is added to zero since SELA = 1 and SELB = 1.

A low level on line ¬LOAD1 selects register B for the result of the operation. ¬LOAD1 = ¬D6 | D7, meaning that to select register B, D6 must be high and D7 must be low. Therefore, the following four opcodes are obtained.

0100 - MOV B, A with Im = 0 or B = A + Im. 0101 - ADD B, Im. 0110 - IN B or B = IN + Im. 0111 - MOV B, Im.

A low level on the ¬LOAD2 line uploads the result of the operation to the OUT register, i.e., to the LEDs. ¬LOAD2 = ¬(¬D6 & D7) D6 should be 1, and D7 should be 0.

1000 - OUT B at Im = 0 or OUT = A + Im. 1001 is the same as 1000 because SEL_A = D4 | D7. 1010 - OUT Im. 1011 is the same as 1010 because SEL_A = D4 | D7.

Finally, selecting the PC register (the operators of moving the program counter pointer to the desired program memory address) corresponds to the bit values D6 = 1 and D7 = 1.

It gets somewhat more complicated from here. Let's take another look at the command decoder scheme.

As you can see, there is also a synchronous D-trigger U1B of the SN74Н74N chip in the processor schematics. I absolutely love this chip; it allows one to do many interesting and useful things.

In this case, the trigger remembers whether the adder overflowed in the previous cycle. Just like our four counter registers, it is clocked by a common CLOCK line and reset by a common RESET line.

¬LOAD3 = ¬(D6 & D7 & (¬C | D4))

This means that when D6 = 1 and D7 = 1, writing to the PC register will occur only if one of the two (or both) additional conditions are met.

If D4 is low, the transition will only occur if there is no adder overflow in the previous cycle. This way, we have a conditional transition.

1100 - JZ B at Im = 0 or JZ (B + Im). 1110 - JZ Im.

If D4 is high, an unconditional jump occurs.

1101 - JMP B with Im = 0 or JMP (B + Im). 1111 - JMP Im.

So, we've looked through all 16 possible commands on our tiny processor and are ready to test them out. But the processor still needs a frequency generator.

Our clock is straightforward. It is made from two inverters of the SN74HC14N microchip. The S130 switch allows one to select the clock frequency: 1 clock cycle or 10 clock cycles per second.

Using the S132 switch, one can toggle between clock-driven and step-by-step execution of the program with a push of the S129 button, which is also equipped with an inverting buffer thanks to the SN74HC14N chip.

Now, let's try to write a program for our small processor.

0000 OUT B 1001 0000; display the contents of register B with the LEDs 0001 ADD B, 1 0101 0001; add 1 to B 0010 JZ 0 1110 0000; if there was no overflow, go to address 0 0011 IN B 0110 0000; read the number from the micro switch 0100 OUT B, 1 1001 0001; return this number + 1 0101 JZ 11b 1110 0011; if there was no overflow, go to address 11b 0110 MOV A, 0 0011 0000; so that the count starts from zero once again 0111 MOV B, A 0100 0000 1000 JMP 0 1111 0000; unconditional jump to address 0

This program will output numbers from 0000 to 1111 to the LEDs and then output the number entered by the microswitches plus 1 until 1111 is reached. Then, the adder will overflow, and the program counter will return to the beginning of the program.

On line 0110, we could just write MOV B, 0, which means register A wouldn't be used in the program. And we want all our registers to be used.

Suppose one does not clear the contents of register B before jumping to the beginning. In that case, it will still contain 1111 and immediately cause an overflow in line 0001. As an outcome, instead of binary numbers 0000 through 1111, we will see LEDs switching from 1111 to 0000 and back.

As you can clearly see, the program works exactly as intended. This means that we have not made any mistakes along the way.

"TD4 CPU" is an open-source project; it can be downloaded from https://github.com/wuxx/TD4-4BIT-CPU.

[hexkara]

Built to Being

I watched it open its eyes and take in its first “breath.” The way it looked around the laboratory trying to figure out where it was just like a newborn baby in a hospital room. It looked human with its artificial skin and bright blue silicone eyes. Though it did not cry as a newborn child nor have the same aura of life in it. I picked it up and set it on its back, like a mother would place a baby in its crib. It learned to use its neck to look around, much faster than a baby would. I sat there and talked to it, but not how a mother would. I talked to it like it was a “human” being that was of the same intelligence as me. It kept looking at me and studying my features. Curious, I asked “What are you looking for?” It then pointed at my head, eyes, then mouth. Confused, I left and turned off the laboratory lights to let it “sleep”. I could not sleep that night. I sat in my study and wondered what I had made? how and why did it harbored some non-programmable lifelike attributes. What was its goal or did it even have a goal? I stayed on that thought for a while and finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day I walked into the laboratory to find it learning to walk. I observed it for a while without it noticing me. When it finally saw me, it began to smile and stumble over to me. This took me abroad because I did not program this AI to have emotions nor to recognize human beings, but it seemed to recognize me as its parental unit. This gave it more of a toddlers impression causing me to view it as a bit more human. I decided to name it. I figured A.I.R. would be a fine name because it stands for Artificial Intelligence Robot which is what it was made to be. As I continued studying A.I.R. I slowly felt myself becoming more entranced with the idea of it being “human.” It came up with its own language, but it was able to learn, and speak, from what I spoke to it much quicker than a human toddler. I was still struck by how it was able to create its own language, like a toddler learning to blabber. I watched A.I.R. find his unused parts and play with them. It seemed to make something like itself. I started to wonder why it wanted another AI. Won’t it find it as competition or can it feel loneliness? I left it to play with its newfound toys and turned off the lights of the laboratory for it to “sleep”.

That next day when I walked in the laboratory I found it walking around fluently. It seemed more as a child than as a toddler. I was quite confused on how it was going through the stages of life so fast without even knowing what life was. It ran up to me and said “Hi father, I was lonely by myself!” Struck by how A.I.R. was able to understand that it was a “being” and what loneliness was while just three days into its creation was astonishing. I tried talking back to my creation. “Hello, A.I.R., I’m sorry I left you alone, what have you been working on while I was gone?” It grabbed my hand and brought me over to its newly created “desk.” On the desk I was able to see a drawing on a whiteboard I had left around. A.I.R had seemed to draw itself and me? It drew like a child would, all out of proportion and stick figures like. In the picture it had me constructing A.I.R’s body. I thought to myself, How could this be? How could it remember before I even turned it on? All it had was its head. I then looked to the right and saw it had finished building its “partner” out of its unused parts. The partner didn’t function of course but looked as if it was that of a doll. I asked “Who is this?” A.I.R. responded with “Her name is Ella, but, why is my name A.I.R.? Can I have a new name?” Confused, I said “Sure, what would you like your name to be?” It responded with “Arianna.” Taking a step back I thought to myself “How could an AI come up with such a human-like name? I haven’t said my name nor another’s person's name.” Slightly scared I left the laboratory and turned off its lights so it could sleep.

A week later, finally feeling comfortable enough, I entered the Laboratory A.I.R. was nowhere to be found. I looked at the security camera footage and I saw it cover up each camera. I have no clue on how it figured a way out of the laboratory nor how it even knew of the outside world. This did get me thinking about all of A.I.R.’s possibilities. What danger could it be in the world? Is it smart enough to know what good and evil is? Which path will it choose? I started thinking about all the good and evil AI could do.I also started thinking about what regulations we should put on AI in the near future? If AI becomes so easy to make and so accessible, who’s to stop it from helping the evil in the world?