#luca will never see cats the same way again

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

we definitely need dad!harry picking up his little one.

School Gates.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

word count - 700.

in which, harry picks his little one up from school and his sons never been so happier, seeing as he’s a daddy’s boy.

It was a breezy Wednesday afternoon, and the school gates buzzed with the usual post-bell chatter. Kids’ laughter spilled out from the playground, and clusters of parents waited, coffees in hand, glancing occasionally at the school doors.

“Oi, Styles,” called out Jake, one of the other dads—mid-30s, fit, always in some sort of Nike gear. “You skippin’ leg day again or what?”

Harry chuckled. “Nah mate, I just save all my leg work for chasing this little guy around the living room.”

He jerked his chin toward the school entrance.

Jake strolled up with a coffee in one hand, car keys in the other. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“Yeah, I swapped my meetings for the day. Figured I’d do the pick-up. He gets excited when it’s me.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, Luca acts like I’ve walked on the moon if I turn up.”

They both looked toward the school as the classroom door opened just a crack, then closed again.

Harry chuckled. “We’re early, huh?”

Jake took a sip of coffee. “Yeah. I needed a minute to breathe. Luca asked me at breakfast if robots cry when you turn them off.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s heavy for 7am.”

“You’re telling me,” Jake said. “Then he asked if our cat knows how to do karate.”

Harry laughed. “Yesterday mine asked if people in Australia walk upside down, and then started crying because he thought they might fall off.”

“That’s the thing—there’s no warning,” Jake said. “You’re pouring cereal, and suddenly you’re in a philosophical debate with someone who can’t tie their own shoes.”

Harry shook his head, still smiling. “He asked me last night if clouds have beds. I told him they just float.”

“And?”

“He said, ‘That’s really sad, Daddy.’ Like I broke his heart.”

Jake laughed out loud. “We’re just out here disappointing tiny people with facts.”

“Honestly, yeah,” Harry said. “And then they hug you with their whole body and you forget that they made you watch the same cartoon four times in a row.”

Jake nodded. “We’re in deep.”

There was a pause—both men glancing at the doors again, now hearing the early rumble of little feet and voices inside.

Harry sighed, in that half-dramatic, half-genuine kind of way. “Still can’t believe we’ve got school-age kids.”

“I know,” Jake said. “Feels like yesterday I was Googling how to swaddle a baby.”

“Same. Now I’m Googling things like, ‘Is eating Play-Doh dangerous?’ and ‘What to do if your kid thinks they’re a lizard.’”

Jake cracked up. “Been there.”

Right then, the doors opened, and the small crowd of four-year-olds began spilling out—some running, some spinning, one loudly singing the alphabet backwards.

“There he is,” Harry said, spotting his son immediately, curly hair bouncing, holding a painting in both hands like it was a treasure map.

A curly-haired boy came running down the path, holding something above his head like a trophy.

“DADDY!”

Harry crouched with a grin as his son launched into his arms. He caught him easily, wrapping him up in a big squeeze.

“Hey, mate. I missed you.”

“I made a picture!” the boy said breathlessly, holding it up between them. “It’s a rainbow giraffe and it has a jetpack!”

Harry examined it with exaggerated awe. “No way. That’s incredible. This guy looks like he means business.”

“He goes to the moon to fight mean broccoli!”

Harry gasped. “Mean broccoli? That’s the worst kind.”

The boy giggled and nodded. “But he wins ‘cause he has LASER EYES!”

“Of course he does,” Harry said, ruffling his son’s curls. “You’re basically a genius.”

The little boy beamed and slipped his hand into Harry’s.

“Can we go to the park?”

“Hmm,” Harry said, pretending to think. “What if we stop at the bakery on the way and get those little cinnamon buns you like?”

“With the icing?”

“Obviously.”

The boy gasped like he’d won a prize. “AND THEN the park?”

“Deal,” Harry said, standing and swinging his son’s backpack over one shoulder. “But only if you tell me everything about this rainbow giraffe on the way.”

Jake gave a wave as he walked past, Luca now dragging his hand and mid-sentence about jellyfish.

“See you Friday!” Jake called.

Harry nodded. “Don’t be late. I need someone to mock my terrible form.”

Jake grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

[pearynice]

Art by @firefly-party

It's not that Steve doesn't want to be here.

He does.

After everything, after the mindflayer and Vecna and then Vecna again, Steve has learned how to be grateful. He's learned to love what remains. He's learned to be thankful for air that doesn't smell like ash and a sun that shines bright and warm over their heads. He's learned to never take for granted the ability to see the people he loves.

And he does love them. He loves them enough that he was willing to die for them. He loves them enough that he still would.

It just hurts to be around them sometimes.

Dustin still walks with a limp. His gait is crooked when he runs and despite assurances that he thinks it's metal, Steve knows it bothers him. That whatever athleticism Dustin had previously possessed has only been dampened by the injury to his leg, and the guilt of that has buried itself like an insect in Steve's chest.

That insect wriggles when Robin takes his hand, the deep scar on her palm brushing against him. It beats its wings when Max reaches for her cane or when she blinks at him through her thick glasses. It digs its legs into his ribs when Nancy or Jon or the kids wince or flinch at their lingering pain or their scars that pull or their joints that pop and creak. It chews straight into the center of him, though, when none of that comes at all.

Because the worst is the gap that's left at Steve's side. The worst is the silence that now rests where dimpled smiles and bright laughs and loving words used to fill, a piece of himself lost that he doesn't think he'll ever get back; a part of himself given away that Steve hopes Eddie's still able to hold close, wherever he is, whatever happens after you die. It would make this pain worth it: knowing that piece of himself isn't missing, that Eddie's still just holding onto it. The way Steve wants him to.

The gap is so much wider when he knows he's somewhere Eddie would've loved to be. Because he would've loved to be here now. He would've loved to put on a record that Max's mom would've begged him to turn down. He would've loved to show Lucas the right way to shuffle cards, so it makes that fluttering noise when they all fall together. He would've loved to show them how to play euchre and poker and rummy. He would've loved to play it so he and Steve held the same hand, he would've told them that he and Steve are on the same team, he would've played it as an excuse to dip into Steve's space, to lean in so their fingers could brush, and it would've taken all of Steve not to kiss him for it.

It's not fair that it was them. It's not fair that it was them and now and the only thing they got from it was NDAs and a grave with no body underneath. It's not fair that Steve is here and whole while Eddie isn't.

He tries not to think about it like that, though. Robin gets mad at him when he does.

Steve trails after them, Dustin running funny all the way to his passenger side door, no match for Robin's hip check when she meets him there, sending him stumbling.

Dustin barks something at her, and Steve's gaze lingers, as it always does, on the trailer across the street.

In the year since it split and burned no one's come to clear it away. There's still tattered, yellow caution tape fluttering in the weak breeze and Steve has to swallow the lump in his throat as he walks down Max's front steps.

And then something moves.

It's subtle. He wouldn't have caught it if he wasn't already looking, but Steve sees the movement of the weeds and hears the rustling of the high grass and he stops dead with his keys still in his hands.

It's a cat. Or a raccoon. An opossum, maybe, but that alarm system in the back of his mind is ringing, and he ignores Robin's question of his name as he takes another several steps forward.

More rustling, and it's so hard to see in the dark but it's bigger than a cat. A dog, maybe, but even as the thought comes to him he dismisses it. It doesn't move like a dog. It moves like--like--

It leaps.

With a speed Steve isn't expecting black claws cut through the air, closing the distance between them and just barely missing his chest. Steve stumbles as it swipes, displaced air whooshing across his front as he regains his footing, the dark mass of the thing already retreating.

"Steve!"

"Stay back!" He orders, his arms spread wide like that would do anything to deter Dustin from charging forward.

The figure retreats further, its movements slower, like the swipe had cost it. It stays crouched within the faint glow of Max's front light, and as Steve blinks him into focus, he freezes in disbelief.

Golden, glowing eyes sparkle back at him. Long dark hair hangs in matted clumps around his face, the peaks of two inhuman ears just visible through the tangle of it. Blood, a crimson so dark it barely catches the light runs down the side of his achingly familiar face.

Steve's heart pounds. His head feels fuzzy as his breath goes wonky, and he barely manages to breathe out Eddie's name through lungs that can't quite expand right.

He has the same face, despite the eyes. The same nose. The same strong jaw and arched eyebrows and Steve's whole chest feels like it's not getting enough air as Eddie's eyes flick down to Steve's hands and back up.

"Steve," Robin murmurs, behind him, closer now, "that's not Eddie."

"Eddie?!" Dustin's voice, loud for the quiet of the night, cracks the stillness.

Eddie winces, his ear twitching, and Steve realizes with a wave of concern: that's where the blood is coming from. The tattered flesh of his ear twitches again, sending droplets of scarlet flying through the air.

"Quiet!" Steve hisses, as loud as he dares as he inches forward, blood now flowing more freely down Eddie's face.

"Steve," Robin begs, but even as she does she doesn't move to grab him, and Steve falls forward, onto his knees, desperation taking hold.

"Eddie?" He asks again, his voice cracking. Tears are pricking at his eyes and his nose is starting to burn because this is Eddie--

Behind him, the radio crackles. "Code red!" Dustin hisses, his whisper somehow just as loud, "we need manpower--"

But at the first crackle of the radio--Eddie convulses.

His eyes, golden and bottomless, roll until the white of his flesh appears, dark red veins stretching across the bottoms of his eyes, his back arching as he collapses backwards, his arms and legs spasming as his left ear, torn and bloodied, writhes.

"Eddie?!"

Steve can't help himself. His fear has his voice rising, pitchy and desperate, and he scrambles on his hands and knees so he's by Eddie's side, so he can hold Eddie's face in his hands and try to ease what he can't see.

There's a deep scar on Eddie's cheek. It's jagged and red like it never got the attention it deserved and his mouth is open in a silent scream that bares his unnaturally long canines. They glint in the weak light of the porch, red-tinted with blood. Eddie's hair is a matted mass, thick with gunk and debris, but, most worryingly of all, he's burning up.

Infection. Sepsis. Steve's been spending too much time with Robin because that's all that runs through his head as Eddie's blood coats his hands. Eddie needs antibiotics. He needs stitches and bandages and a hospital and panic claws at Steve's throat as he realizes that's the last place he can take him.

Because Eddie Munson is dead. Because Eddie Munson is a murderer and this Eddie Munson, in front of him, alive, is--

"--over," Dustin finishes.

Eddie collapses. His chest heaves as he goes limp in Steve's hands, his breath coming in horrible wet gasps, uneven and rattling.

Those golden eyes blink slowly up at him, Eddie's torn and bloodied ear giving one last twitch.

"Eddie," Steve repeats, low and pleading. He runs his thumbs over Eddie's cheekbones, curls his fingers into his tangled mess of hair.

But there's no hint of recognition in Eddie's gaze. He bares his teeth, fresh rivulets of blood now caked into the cracks between them, but his arms stay limp at his sides. He hisses, but it's weak, and foamy blood pools at the corners of his mouth.

The radio, behind them, crackles, and Eddie seizes.

Steve doesn't know what else to call it. His jaw clenches under Steve's palms as his back arches off the ground, his claw-like nails piercing into the grass below as blood flows from his shredded ear.

"Turn it off!" Steve tears his gaze from Eddie, to Dustin and Robin behind him, to Dustin speaking into the walkie talkie, to his thumb on the transmitter. Eddie spasms in his hands and Steve feels it against his palms as warm blood begins to trickle from his mouth.

"Dustin!" He pleads, "turn it off!"

Finally, Dustin does, and Eddie, mercifully, goes limp again.

Steve curls over him, cupping his pale face as Eddie's head lolls, his jaw slack like he's about to pass out.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until the first tear lands on Eddie's cheek. It makes the line of blood there bloom, and Steve pulls Eddie closer, so his head pillowed on Steve's lap.

"Eddie," he pleads, "Eddie, baby--"

But Eddie's eyes are already rolling back, his consciousness slipping as Steve holds him.

"Robin!" He doesn't recognize his own voice, high and cracking and desperate. "Robin, help me!" But even as he pleads Eddie's head falls, the color drained from his pale cheeks.

Steve holds him tighter. He cradles Eddie's face in his hand and supports him with the other, blood staining his shirt.

Steve doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything because Eddie is here. He's alive. He's different and bloodied but even as Robin lands next to him, even as she tells him this looks really bad, Steve, Steve breathes his first full breath since 1986.

Eddie

Static rings, shredding, agonizing.

He can no longer see the boy. Cannot hear the man. Cannot feel the earth below him.

The static fills his blood. Rives through his chest. Contorts his lungs.

Breath escapes him. He tries to move. To cover his ears.

But he cannot feel anything. There is nothing beneath him. Nothing above.

He tries to scream. He can't feel his tongue.

It lasts for hours. Days. Seconds.

Until it evaporates.

He gasps.

His lungs stretch. His heart pounds.

He's lying on the ground.

In the new silence, his ears ring. His eyes water. Spots dot his vision. Blackness creeps along the edges.

The man is above him. He holds him in his lap, his hand on his face.

He tries to bare his teeth, to get away, but his legs are numb. His arms have lost feeling.

He wants home.

Prologue and Chapter 1 are now on AO3 here.

Once again, all of the art credit goes to @firefly-party, who is endlessly talented and consistently amazing. My only contribution is the words 🥰

All of my thanks to @hbyrde36 for her beta work 💗💗💗

Divider credit to @hitlikehammers

Folks who requested to be tagged: @sidekick-hero @thedragonsaunt @estrellami-1 @tinytalkingtina @queenie-ofthe-void

[eldizzle69]

“Biting your Tokyo debunkers boyfriend.”

masterlist

Including :: taiga, lyca, sho, Alan, haku

—Taiga Hoshibami

•so you have a death wish? /j

•if your dating he probably remembers you so he’s definitely gonna smile and tease you.

•he’ll bite you back but harder. Probably gonna draw blood.

“Gyahaha! You’re getting bold kitty cat!” Taiga laughed out and you froze in his arms. He had one arm wrapped around you as the two of you sat on the couch, and you of course couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on the fingers that hung out of the corner of your eyes.

“W-well I—“ you stammered and Taiga took your left hand into his own. You thought you’d have a cute moment, but then Taiga bit down hard on your ring finger, “Taiga! Ouch ouch!” You whined as you felt his sharp teeth dig into your skin.

“Till death do us part kitty cat,” Taiga grinned as he licked around the new wound on your ring finger.

—Lyca Colt

•bites you back

•one way wolves show affection is biting so more than likely he was already nibbling on you.

•sometimes you have to remind him to bite gently.

Soft giggles and laughter rung through the room and you and Luca laid on his bed in the Obscuary dorm. There was a mix of playful wrestling and affectionate action between the two of you.

With a sly grin on your face you leaned forward and bit down onto Lyca’s shoulder. The did even show a reaction, instead he also leaned forward and bit into your arm that was wrapped around him.

“Lyca! Gently!” You hissed as he bit down harder than you expected, making you wince. The half wolf who laid on you pouted, “you bit me first!”

“Yeah but not that hard!”

“Whatever…..”

—Shohei Haizono

•gives you a look but ultimately doesn’t say anything

•then you do it again and he teases you for it

•I feel like he thinks it’s funny, doesn’t mind

You had always admired Sho’s passion for cooking. You always offered a helping hand with his food truck and were more than happy to sit with him while he cooked up new recipes.

But today was different. You had a shitty day and wanted nothing more than to be held by your boyfriend arms, but he seemed to think that whatever he was cooking was more important.

With a huff you gently slid behind him and wrapped your arms around him. “Just a little longer— huh!?” You delivered a harsh chomp to his arm. Obviously you didn’t hurt him, it would take more than that.

“You couldn’t wait a little longer for the food—“

“I don’t care about the food Sho…”

Yes, your boyfriend could never deny you attention.

—Alan Mido

•just looks at you with surprised pikachu face

•he might warn you against doing it every now and then if he’s covered in car oil.

•it definitely doesn’t hurt him so keep biting he doesn’t mind as long as it’s you.

“Don’t.”

The instruction was simple, and firm all at the same time. You stopped mid bite, your teeth hovering over your boyfriend’s arm.

“I’m dirty,” his voice came out in a deep rumble soon after seeing your pouty face. With another guff you simply leaned against Alan, “go shower so I can bite you.”

“…..okay.” who was he to say no?

—Haku Kusanagi

•is caught off guard and shocked then he laughs and says something about not being a chew Toy

•I feel like Haku probably likes it tbh

•idk i just think that he thinks it’s cute.

Snuggling with Haku was a favorite pastime of yours. Heck it might have been your favorite pastime.

But you wanna know what was the best about cuddling with Haku? His arm wrapped around you, holding you, and tempting you.

So with very little restraint you decided to bit down on his arm, making him wince and lift his head to look at you fully.

“I’m not a chew toy,” he muttered and moved himself to lay on you further. He situated his face against your neck, limiting your mobility so you couldn’t bite him.

“You’re no fun…”

[beiasluv]

lil ginger | op81

— shifter!osc, angst, lovie dovey ending?? that’s all 👹

What would you do if you see a poor lil ginger cat following on your heels? A, be a meanie and leave him alone. B, take him back.

Obviously you had to choose B.

Never being a cat person, grown up with doggos all your life, you just really don’t know how to interact with one. Sure, you’d give them little pats and all—and clicking your tongue discreetly to see how far you can get it to follow. But this one was just…different.

“Hi—” you cooed. “Are you hurt, baby?”

The ginger and cream colored cat let out a friendly-meowing squeak, seeing that it had successfully gotten your attention. He skipped up to you, and sat down at your feet, tilting his head a set of large brown eyes staring back to you.

Adorable.

So you ended up kneeling on the concrete floor, getting weird looks from passersby. Only for them to realize it was a cat, then it was socially acceptable.

“Poor you,” you cooed as you nervously plucked the twigs and dust away, not really sure how to interact with a cat without getting a scratch.

“Fuck—I am not a cat person,” you mumbled to yourself. “Can I pick you up, little guy?”

Soon enough you did manage to get ahold of the ginger in your hands, realizing it’s a boy. His little ears pinned themselves down, resting his forehead on your chest, and a loud, soft, almost-purring-like meow came from him.

He wasn’t hurt, just a little filthy.

And if he had to guess, he would assume you weren’t a cat person, with the way you were holding him. But he’d appreciate the cuddles every now and then.

There was no collar, no tags to be found. But he was fairly too clean for a stray. And maybe just a little too well behaved.

After a moment of quiet cuddling with the ginger baby, you figured his owner would be looking for him soon enough. Or maybe his mother would come and get the youngster soon.

But would you be so mean and leave him alone?

“Look, if you come with me…I’ll…um…post you somewhere so they can get you back?” He was settled back down on the hard concrete floor, only wanting to see if he would even follow you home.

It also would be cruel to take him back without a little cat-consent…right?

The cat sat himself down, and looked at you, considering your offer. He let his tail flick around the floor, smacking the ground a few times as he thought about your words.

He padded after you, and jumped back up, stretching his bean paws against your leg, as if asking you to pick him back up again.

He wanted up. He wanted attention. He was a needy little bastard.

—

“Make yourself at home…well— no scratching my couch—” you warned as you set the feline down, taking off your coat.

The cat followed a few steps behind you, but when you went into the kitchen—he started to explore.

He climbed up your couch and sniffed around, as cats do, finding your throw pillow a little too inciting. He promised he wasn’t going to do anything to mess up your place, but he was just a cat.

And cats do sniff.

Just when you set out a bowl out of water in the floor, he hopped down from the couch and started to drink, almost desperately lapping the water up— almost like a man parched in the desert.

Watching the ginger feline was almost entertaining, lying yourself on the floor— getting the same eye-level as the cat.

“Okay, your name…” you tapped your chin.

The cat stopped drinking, and looked over at you. His brown eyes followed you as you laid back on the ground, watching you almost curiously. Figuring you out.

He meowed at your words, as if asking you to ‘go on.’

“How is…Daniel? Lucas?”

The cat sat back on his haunches, and tipped his head to the side. Judging you for the names you’d chosen. He let out a soft but slightly rude sounding noise, clearly disagreeing with your choices.

“Okay, that’s a ‘no’…what about…er…Pumpkin?”

He made the same noise, but this time it was louder. Definitely didn’t like the sound of that one. He gave you a displeased look, as if telling you to pick something ‘cooler.’

“Well? I can’t read your mind, mister,” you scoffed lightheartedly. “Ginger?”

Another huff from the cat and a tail smack on the floor.

At this point, you might just well give up.

—

“Here’s the bathroom…for…your business—”

So there you were, touring the cat around, hoping you weren’t going crazy. Not with the way the cat seemed to act/look/respond like it understood what you’ve said.

“And— you, only the foot of the bed is allowed.”

You explained, crawling under the covers. Followed by ‘Ginger’ as he jumped up onto your bed. He sat at your feet, and curled up against them, watching you as you got comfy.

A very polite little guy.

He’d let out a soft, almost human sounding sigh, and seemed to settle down. Kneading the bedding once or twice just to get comfy. And occasionally would be peeking his eyes open— just to mak sure you were still there. Only to be seeing you patting the space next to your waist.

“Fine— just here. No more.”

His eyes widened as you patted at the empty space in the middle of the bed. The cat waited a moment, as if he was expecting some kind of trap. Then quickly started to make his way up the foot of the bed.

You could only guess how much comfort a few inches difference can make of a spot. But, hey, he was just a polite little fella.

You grunted as you got out the bed, fetching him a small blanket you kept in your closet.

“If you get cold.”

He looked down at the offered blanket—inspecting it closely—before pushing his head under it, and starting to burrow. He didn’t seem too cold, but he liked it.

His head poked back out from under the blanket. From under the soft material, his eyes darted up to you, waiting to see if you’d get comfortable again.

—

You woke up, feeling something heavy on your stomach. Figured it was Ginger that moved during the night, so you reached down to pet it. Expecting to feel a layer of hair, but instead you felt what felt fleshy.

When you glanced down, instead of a small cat, you saw a man’s hand resting on your stomach, attached to a muscular arm.

This was not Ginger.

“What the fuck?” You groaned, pushing yourself further to the edge of the bed— rubbing your eyes like it would help you wake up from this dream.

The hand on your stomach shifted, letting out a soft groan at his swollen lips. “…What?”

You had to shift away from him, crawling off the bed. Pressing your back against the wall behind.

“Who are you?—no—How did you get into my room?”

The owner of the hand sat up, and pushed himself into an upright position. He had quite obvious bedhead— mussed up hair sticking in several directions.

And Oh. My. God. This guy was kinda ripped.

“I...” he said, rubbing a hand over his face, still trying to shake off his drowsiness. “I…” he was at a loss for words, as he looked around dumbfounded, trying to process what just happened.

“You what?—What did you do to Ginger?”

“I am Ginger.” He defended himself, his voice going high with a hint of an Australian accent. Squinting his eyes as he saw that you didn’t believe it.

“No? You’re clearly not a cat—I am calling the cops—”

“No! Wait—!” He put his pale, strong hand out to stop you from doing so. Running his hand through his head as the seconds ticked by quickly, trying to find the right way to explain.

“Ok, look—I know it’s a lot, but let me explain first, I just need you to calm down, yeah?”

“I have a fucking man in my bed—one that I don’t know— how am I supposed to know that you won’t jump and kill me. Also.” You breathed.

“You’re claiming that you’re a cat.”

“Look, just—” he began, as he ran his hand through his mussed up bed hair, trying to flatten it down. “I am a shifter—”

Oh.

“Right..” You should’ve known.

“I’m sorry—fuck. I should’ve just left you there— I’m so sorry–”

—

“Can it be permanent?”

The doctor gave Oscar a sympathetic look, his eyebrows raising at the question.

He had seen a lot of cat shifters before, lots of hopeless cases—some of them, and Oscar’s question wasn’t the first time he had heard the same phrase.

“You want to remain in a human body permanently, Mr. Piastri?” He repeated, humming softly as he went over the patient’s history.

The Australian nodded.

“Well…I must tell you. Some shifters have had success in taking medication to help them remain in their human form longer…” He started, seeing the youngster was willing to try. “We can work on a dose and let’s see if it gets you any results,” he added, writing down on the prescription.

“Yeah, I’ll try it—”

—

“You forgot this at my place?”

That snapped Oscar back into reality. Right. He had a casual dinner planned with you at his place. After his surprisingly pleasant interaction with you that morning, he was stuck.

Sure, it was full of you investigating him with all of the shifters’ fun facts and myths. But he handled it professionally. Yes, he’s somewhat conscious in the cat body. No, he can’t really help but to give into the cat instincts.

He needed to climb things, and meow, and rub his face against you, and what not. And, no, his parents are not shifters. Was that all of the questions?

Oscar would often found himself at your place, then vice versa. Just enjoying each other’s company, really.

Not to mention that one time you visited at the ‘wrong’ moment, greeting you in his all-glorious feline state. Even that. You were still nice enough to stick around with a fussy cat.

Oh, and you brought him a lot of cat treats.

Right, the dinner.

“What?”

“I think it’s yours,” you repeated, pushing a pill bottle prescribed with his name across the counter:

Shifting Suppressants Suppress transformation into animal form. Take twice a day.

He quickly reached out for it. “Oh, right, thanks–”

“Why?” You stopped him.

Sure, you weren’t in the place to talk about what medication he should be taking, but can’t a friend look out for each other? It was painfully obvious that he had gone from ‘pale’ to almost a ‘twilight-pale’ this past month, and don’t make you get started on his under eyes.

“Osc…I don’t wanna be pushy, but…I don’t think it’s good for you.”

You can see his face turning just a touch of guilty. And he would argue that the pills were helping with lessening his shifting.

“…I just wanna stay like this, Yn.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, he didn’t want to be like this because he preferred it.

He wanted this so he could feel normal. Just being able to be there and do something for you— not a helpless ginger cat. He had spent a good portion of his life transforming but— he was afraid you wouldn’t even want a cat around for the rest of your life.

“I want to be a human when you’re around— it makes me happy this way—”

“Oh, Osc–”

You frowned admiringly, rounding the kitchen counter to capture his hand. “I like you as a cat, I like you as a human. I don’t care— You’re still…you to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t want to kiss a cat, but I still want to cuddle and spend time— even if you can’t talk.

But I’d still like to kiss a human, for sure.”

“…You mean it?”

“Fuck, yes, I do—”

“That’s good to know,” he smiled softly.

The next thing you knew, he was finding the courage to tug on your laced hands, closing the gap between your lips. His hand traced your jaw in all the perfect places, tugging your chin closer so he can pepper soft kisses all over your lips.

Pulling away with a cheeky smile.

“You make me want to overdose, y’know?”

Hey people, long time no see. 👹👹 HOW ARE YALL doinggg

Anyways, interacting anyway would be appreciated and, as always, today’s a good day to take care of yaself. xoxo’s

@namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3 @evie-119

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the mind flayer

Steve, who is leaning next to Dustin and you, snaps his finger. “Like the Germans?” “Uh… The Nazis?” Your brother looks at you, silently urging you to shut the teen up, and you pinch your nose again and sigh. “Oh, buddy.” You loop your arm through his and pat Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s just listen, okay?”

Summary: jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, talk of death and grief, violence and blood

Words: 12.1k

Before you swing in: long time no see ! lots has happened, and this chapter was a pain for so many reasons, but shes here and i love her and i so sincerely hope yall enjoy :)

-

Stumbling blindly through dark woods while holding your bloodied ribcage has never been your favorite activity. Neither is following after a bunch of Demodogs to probably once again sacrifice your life to save others, yet here you are.

Steve has a gentle hand resting on the small of your back as he helps you navigate the woods. Dustin is to your left, scanning for anything that could possibly trip you as the three of you walk in a line. Lucas and Max follow, both of whom watch you with weary eyes.

Sure, you probably don’t look too good, but honestly. You’ve been objectively worse.

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Dustin sighs next to you, kicking at a twig in your way. “He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt.”

“Why do you have his butt memorized?” You mumble under your breath, which Steve chuckles at.

Max shakes her head. “But he was tiny two days ago.”

“Well, he’s molted three times already.” Dustin kicks at another twig, this time with more anger behind it. He’s on edge, and you know he’s worried that somehow Lucas will figure out that he kept Dart all this time.

You’d help the kid, but he dug his own grave.

“Malted?” Steve asks, looking over to you to see if you’re hearing what he’s hearing.

“No, buddy.” You shake your head at him, slightly endeared by the confusion on his face.

“Molted,” your brother clarifies. “Shed his skin to make room for growth, like hornworms.”

“I don’t think Steve knows what hornworms are, Dustin.”

The boy sighs, knowing you’re right, and continues to walk.

Max, however, won’t let the topic go. “When’s he gonna molt again?”

“It's gotta be soon.” Dustin responds, now looking around tiredly. He doesn’t have to tell you, but you saw how quickly Dart grew overnight; he’s grown at an alarming rate. “When he does he’ll be fully grown, or close to it.”

“And so will his friends,” you say grimly.

It’s quiet for a moment after that, your words unnerving the group. Everyone but Max had to deal with a fully grown Demogorgon last year, and none of you have forgotten how terrifying it had been. You all still have scars from it, both metaphorically and physically.

After a minute or so, Steve tries to lighten up the situation. “Well, at least there isn’t another cat for them to eat–”

“Steve–” But you’re too late, Lucas has already picked up on what the teen is saying.

The boy shoves past you and whips around to face Dustin, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “Wait, a cat? Dart ate a cat?”

“No, what? No!” Your brother is a terrible liar.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews–” Your elbow digs into Steve’s side, causing him to hunch over and wheeze. “Shit.”

You force Steve’s head up so that he looks at you while you forcefully whisper, “Stop. Talking.”

“Mews? Who’s Mews?”

You turn to Max. “It’s nothing–”

“It’s their cat,” Steve wheezes out, still not at all understanding the situation.

“Steve!” You and Dustin screech at the same time. God, maybe it does make sense that he’s barely graduating high school.

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas shouts at Dustin, before turning to you with hurt in his eyes. “And you let him hide it from the party?”

You wince. “I had a suspicion, but by the time I found out it had already been too late and–”

“He missed me. He wanted to come home… and Y/N just happened to not know about it for a while.” Dustin interrupts, trying to appease his friend, but it doesn’t work.

“Bullshit!”

“I didn’t know he was a Demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

You try to intervene, you’ve always hated when the boys fight. “Listen, what’s done is done and it’s too late to be angry now.”

Lucas scoffs. “I crawled into a dumpster to find Dart!”

“And that was a conscious decision that you made–”

“Guys!” Max steps in. “Who cares? We have to go.”

“I care!” Lucas faces Dustin again. “You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!”

“So did you!” You’ve never heard anger like this come out from Dustin. It isn’t an anger that spills over from a regular argument. Your eyes flicker to Max and you know that the anger is one that stems from hurt.

You remember how excited Dustin had been to tell you about his crush on the girl. Now, after she came here with Lucas, you fear you may have to have a code blue soon with your brother about young love and heartbreak. Unrequited crushes suck.

The kids all begin to scream at one another and you’re too tired to try and intervene again. Technically, they’re all right. Lucas shouldn’t have told Max everything, Dustin shouldn’t have hid Dart, and both boys shouldn’t continuously treat Max like some weird outsider.

As they argue, Steve rubs small circles in your back, sensing how exhausted you are. While your bleeding may have stopped, you still feel woozy from the blood loss and could really go for some water and food right now.

“They’ll figure it out,” he assures you, breath warm against your ear, and all you can do is sigh.

You’re about to tell Steve that maybe you should all walk back home, it’s late and the kids are all too mad at one another to be of any help, but then you hear screeching coming from the distance.

You both freeze.

Slowly, the two of you step away from the kids to follow after the sound. They’re too busy arguing to notice, but the screeching continues to grow louder and you share a look with Steve. This isn’t good.

“Hey guys?” Steve calls towards the kids, hand never leaving your back.

The kids continue to argue, ignoring him, and you bring your fingers to your lips and let out a high pitched whistle. “Idiots!” Lucas, Dustin, and Max all go quiet, looking over at you. More screeches fill the silence, and you tilt your head towards the sound. “Hear that? Shall we continue to fight or are we done here?”

Steve flashes his light towards the source of the sound and beckons for the kids to follow. You stay behind, both of you silently agreeing that he’ll lead and you’ll make sure everyone is safe. Lucas and Dustin immediately follow, but Max lingers.

“Hey, you comin’?” You ask, motioning towards where the boys have all gone.

“Why are we headed towards the sound?”

“Because it’s what we do,” you shrug. “Welcome to the party.”

Max blinks at you, in disbelief, and it breaks your heart that she has to come to terms with all of this. Taking the risk, you reach towards her hand, offering her time to pull away, but she doesn’t. She lets you grab her hand and you squeeze it, giving her a soft smile. “I’m right here.”

The girl exhales, still guarded, yet she finally nods at your words. She seems to believe you, which you’re thankful for, and together the two of you follow after the others. The five of you approach the overlook, all of Hawkins visible. There’s a layer of thick fog covering the town, the screeches ominous as the town is blanketed.

“I don’t see him,” Dustin mumbles next to you, though he slowly links his fingers through yours, quietly confessing to you that he’s scared.

You squeeze his hand. “Lucas, do you think your binoculars can see that far?”

The boy brings them up to his eyes, and within a few seconds he seems to have spotted the source. He swallows, lowers the binoculars, and says, “It’s the lab.”

“They’re going back home.” You whisper, feeling defeated more than anything else. It somehow always comes back to that fucking lab. Will’s episodes, Mike’s silence, Nancy and Jonathan taking the burden of bringing the entire lab down themselves.

You now understand the immense anger Nancy felt that day during lunch, when you had all been at Jonathan’s car and she created her genius plan. How badly she wanted to make the assholes pay for what they did to Hawkins. To Will. To Barb. To sweet El.

“We have to follow.” You say, an edge to your voice. Your side sears with pain, your ankle sending phantom pains up your leg. Dustin clings onto your hand like his life depends on it. You’re sick of suffering the consequences that Hawkins Lab has brought upon itself.

You begin to walk down the overlook, steps slow and careful, and while the kids glance uncertainly at one another, Steve doesn’t hesitate to follow after you. –

As you approach the gate to the lab, you see a car with headlights parked in front of it. Two figures stand at the edge of the forest line, watching.

Other people are here.

You bring your knives out and flick the handle so that the blades extend. Steve stands next to you, his own bat raised after seeing your fear, and you nod at one another to slowly begin approaching.

“Hello?” One of the figures shouts, their voice oddly familiar.

You stop.

“Who’s there?” The voice shouts again, and this time you recognize it.

It’s Jonathan.

Immediately you start to run, damning the pain in your side, and when you break through the tree line and see Jonathan standing there with Nancy, both of them safe and sound, you start to run even faster.

When Jonathan sees that it’s you, he starts to run as well and within seconds the two of you are a tangle of arms and limbs. He hugs you fiercely, his cologne familiar and you hadn’t known how homesick you were until you felt his arms around you.

“Bug,” Jonathan exhales with relief, squeezing you even tighter. He brings a hand to your hair and cradles your head, his fingers sure and strong and familiar as always. You bury your face in his neck, feeling all the pain and exhaustion from today begin to dissipate.

Nancy walks over and lays a hand on your arm as you’re still wrapped around Jonathan. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you guys are okay,” you sniff, you’re not sure why you’re crying. “God, I’ve had the weirdest two days of my life–”

“Steve?” Jonathan and Nancy suddenly say at the same time.

You pull away from your friend and let out a chuckle. Steve and the kids have now joined, confusion on all of their faces. “Like I said, it’s been a weird few days.”

“Nancy?” Steve walks over, his eyes going back and forth between you and the girl. He feels an overwhelming mixture of emotions overtake him. He notices the way Jonathan’s arm is still wrapped around you as you stand close to his side, and he notices the way Nancy avoids his eyes. Something burns within his chest.

“Jonathan?” Dustin narrows his eyes at the boy, and you can’t help but laugh.

Jonathan and Nancy approach the others and you slowly follow, taking your time. Nancy reaches Steve first. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve retorts.

“We’re looking for Mike and Will.”

You grab Nancy’s jacket. “Are they okay? Did something happen?”

“They’re not in there, are they?” Dustin motions towards the lab, fear in his voice.

Nancy lowers her voice. “We’re not sure.”

Jonathan senses there’s something else going on. “Why?”

Right on cue, the Demodogs begin to screech from the lab. Next to you, you feel Jonathan stiffen with fear. You know, without having to ask, that his family is stuck inside the lab. Suddenly the gash in your side stings in pain and you clutch at it and let out a wince. Hearing this, Jonathan finally realizes that you’re covered in blood.

“Oh my god,” his hands fall to your side as he scans for any other injuries. “You’re bleeding, oh my god.”

“I’m okay–”

“Fuck, bug. It looks bad–”

“Had a minor setback, we’re all good now though.”

Jonathan shakes his head at you, his eyes dripping with guilt; you know he’s already placed the blame upon himself long before he speaks. “I should’ve been there. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t call, and then Nance and I came back to my home being wrecked and you weren’t at your place and I was worried sick and thought you were dead–”

You grab his hands, forcing him to slow down and breathe. “Hey, look at me.” Slowly, his eyes meet yours. “I’m okay, bee. I had to protect the kids, and I had Steve. I’m right here.”

Jonathan looks over at Steve, who is stuck in some argument between Nancy and the kids, and he lets out a tired laugh. He can’t believe that he’s here right now, tired and delirious from a long trip with Nancy as you hold his hands, your own blood covering them, while Steve spares you worried glances. “Friends with him again, then?”

“It was inevitable.” You sigh, knowing how heavy your words are. Truly, it was inevitable. He’s too much like you, your wounds a matching pair, and you never stood a chance against the inevitability. He’s an extension of you now, you can no longer deny this.

“Are you really okay, though?” Jonathan asks you, still concerned about how much blood is on you. He feels this tug within him, pulling at his chest to encase you within his arms and to never, ever let you out of his sight again.

There’s still a slight limp in your step that Jonathan sees when he thinks you aren’t looking, the scar on your upper arm is harsh against the smooth skin he’s come to memorize, disrupting the topography of your body. Now, you’ve once again gotten hurt because of him. Your favorite cardigan is ripped and bloodied and Jonathan knows it’s one more scar he’s inexplicably given you.

The scars may fade, but he knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself. It’s the same heavy weight you feel within yourself over Will’s disappearance.

You notice that Jonathan’s eyes have glazed over in despair and you kiss his knuckles, bringing him back to you. “I promise I am.”

He nods, though he still looks unsure, but he pulls you in again for another hug. For a moment, everything is still. It reminds you of when you had been in Jonathan’s car last Christmas as he drove you home, the memories between you had gone still. You close your eyes, like you had last year, and for a moment nothing has changed.

“The power’s back!” Nancy exclaims, effectively shutting everyone up about who has seen what when.

You pull away from Jonathan. The urgence in her voice reminds you that everything has changed. There’s a scar on your upper arm that now has a matching scar on your ribcage. Jonathan has bags underneath his eyes that seem like they'll never go away.

You look away from him and look over at the kids and see, in Dustin’s and Lucas’ faces, the familiar fear and acceptance that they’re inevitably in danger. Steve catches your eye and he nods, indicating that whatever happens next, he’s ready whenever you are.

The seven of you quickly make your way back towards the lab’s gate, and Jonathan is the first to get there with you following close behind. The two of you stand in the patrol panel, Jonathan aggressively hitting the button designated for opening the gate, but nothing seems to be happening.

Suddenly Dustin barges in, roughly shoving past Jonathan and mumbling a soft sorry to you.

“Let me try.” Jonathan doesn’t move, which only aggravates your brother further and he flings the teen back. “Let me try, Jonathan!”

Jonathan looks at you incredulously, still having no idea why Dustin seems to suddenly hate him, and you stifle a laugh as you watch the boy repeatedly hit the button while nothing happens.

“Son of a bitch!” Dustin groans, still trying and failing to open the gate.

“Move over,” you shoulder past the kid and start pressing the button yourself. “It probably just doesn’t like you guys.”

Dustin and Jonathan both scoff at you, but you ignore them as you continue to press the button. You were mostly doing it to distract yourself, give your anxious mind something to do, but after a simple few taps, the gates unlock.

You cheer, immensely happy with yourself. “I did it! You guys just really do just suck!”

Jonathan shakes his head at you but offers his hand for you to high five, which you gladly do. As for your brother, he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation. You ignore the kid and follow Jonathan outside to join the others.

Once the gates have fully opened, you, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve all begin speaking at once.

“I’ll go,” you all say in unison.

The kids all stare at one another, wondering how this will go. It didn’t escape their notice that Jonathan and Nancy were alone together, and that Steve’s worry over you has strings attached to unspoken truths.

They may be young, but they can sense the tension between you and the teens pretty easily.

“No, someone has to stay with the kids.” Nancy reasons, looking over at Jonathan to back her up, and his eyes draw to hers naturally.

You see this, and you wonder when they became such a cohesive team.

“Bug, what are you thinking?” He asks, knowing that ultimately it’s your call. When it comes to the kids, you’re the one to turn to.

You bite your lip, unsure. Max, Lucas, and Dustin all stare at you, and you know the two boys want you to stay with them. They’ve been through hell tonight, so have you, but then you think about whatever has happened in the lab to Will and Mike.

Sighing, you walk over to Jonathan. “Nance is right. I’ll stay behind with Steve while you and her drive to the lab. They’ll need all the help they can get, and I’m currently in no condition to fight.”

Jonathan’s eyes once again fall to your wrapped side, uncertain if you’ll be safe enough out here. “You sure?”

“I’m sure, bee.” You kiss his cheek, fucking terrified something will go wrong. The lab is crawling with Demodogs. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Always,” he cups your face and brings his forehead to yours. “I’ll come back.”

You relish in the warmth and let out a shaky exhale. “Go get Will.”

The moment between you two is intimate; everyone around you looks away. Nancy stares down at her feet while Steve clenches his jaw.

After a few more seconds, you finally release yourself from Jonathan’s hold and turn towards Nancy. “That goes for you as well, Wheeler. Stay safe.”

She nods at you, spares Steve one last glance, and then follows after Jonathan into the car. Within seconds, they speed off down the road, towards Hawkins Lab as more Demodogs screech in the distance.

“Well that was awkward.” Max breaks the silence. “Sensing there’s a lot of history there.”

You snort, admiring the girl’s wit, and tiredly lean against the gate’s post. “Still have a lot to catch up on, Max.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just gently leans next to you against his own post and flips his flashlight in his hand.

Dustin starts to pace while Lucas stares at the sky, as if willing away every problem from the day, which you want to do yourself. However, your best friend is currently very close to a death lab that Will and Mike are inexplicably trapped in.

You try to calm your breathing, knowing it’s no use getting yourself worked up, but you’re terrified. Steve sees your unease and does his best to comfort you. “Hey, they’ll be okay. Jonathan is a smart guy and Nancy is tough as hell.”

Hearing Nancy’s name coming out of his mouth makes you realize that you haven’t asked him how he’s feeling about all of this, which makes you feel even shittier. He confessed to you last night how he still loves her, and here you are, worried about your friend who the guy’s ex girlfriend showed up with.

“Are you okay?” You ask him softly, worried you’ll scare him away.

Steve doesn’t ask what you mean; he knows and lets out a dry laugh. “Not the most ideal situation.”

You’re about to say more, but something seems to catch Max’s attention. “Guys?”

You look towards where she’s pointing and you hear the faint sounds of tires squealing against concrete. The same sound Billy’s car had made in the school parking lot days ago. As you piece this together, headlights light up the gate and the honking starts.

Immediately you and Steve rush over to the kids and push them away, narrowly avoiding being hit. As soon as the road is cleared, Hopper’s familiar truck brakes in front of you.

“Let’s go,” the man gruffs out, and you’ve never been happier to see that obnoxious cop’s face.

Steve runs over to the passenger door and holds it open while you usher the kids to go inside. “Come on, let’s go! Go, go, go!”

One by one you get the kids seated in the truck, and once you and Steve make sure they’re in safely, he motions for you to go next before he climbs inside and slams the door shut. You end up squished up front, in between Hopper and Steve.

“Drive!” You scream, and Hopper doesn’t need to be told twice before he stomps on the gas and follows after Jonathan’s car.

It’s silent for a few minutes as everyone steadies their breathing, processing what’s just happened. You rub at your side, the rough movements from earlier having upset the wound. Hopper notices this and raises an eyebrow at you. “Lose a fight?”

“Mhm,” you see that he’s dressed in hospital scrubs and raise your own eyebrows. “Got checked into a psych ward?”

Hopper lets out a short laugh and you can see the exhaustion behind his eyes, but he plays along and you’re grateful for it. “Yeah, figured it was time.”

–

The Byers’ home is a disaster when you walk in. The walls are covered with pictures drawn by Will, a map that he somehow came to piece together, of an entire underground tunnel system that the Demodogs now reside in.

You sit on the ground next to Will, who has been placed on the couch while he’s still unconscious, and you hold his cold, limp hand as Jonathan kneels next to the boy and strokes his hair.

“I’m sorry, bud.” He whispers, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

You grab Jonathan’s own hand. “He wouldn’t blame you. You couldn’t have known.”

Nancy places a hand on his shoulder as she watches over him, a certain concern in her eyes that you’ve never quite seen before. She’s always been the most guarded out of the three of you, but now she’s rubbing comforting circles into Jonathan’s back; you’ve never seen her so open before, so affectionate with someone.

You noticed how much closer they seemed earlier at the lab, how the tension between them now appears to be gone. You know that something happened on their spy adventure, you know they’d been alone together, probably gotten a motel room, even. Your stomach twists at the thought, but Will’s cold hand is a reminder that none of that matters right now. Like last year, he comes first.

“We’ll figure it out, bee. We always do.” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek, not knowing how many more times you’ll be able to do so, and you try to memorize how his face feels pressed against yours, the way your nose buries into his skin and the way he leans into the kiss each and every time.

Jonathan sniffles and thanks you, pulling you into his side as he continues to stroke Will’s hair. Nancy remains standing, and when you look up to offer her to sit next to you, you finally notice Steve standing in the corner, watching.

He’s holding himself as he watches the three of you and, despite how he tries to hide it, you see Steve wipe at his nose and blink away tears; he’s never looked so small before, and your heart breaks for him as he walks out of the room.

You excuse yourself to follow after him, bypassing Hopper who is angrily trying to contact some government people to alert them about Hawkins Lab.

Steve walks into the kitchen and faces the drawings on the wall, his back turned away from everyone in a pathetic attempt to gain some privacy. Slowly, you approach him and stand to his left. You know he senses your presence, but he continues to stare straight ahead.

“You want to talk about it?” You ask, voice low so no one else in the kitchen can hear.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head, it’s all of a response he can give you right now. He’s worried that if he tries to speak, he’ll start crying. His worst fear has come true. He’s been replaced.

Tentatively, you grab his hand and bring your lips to his ear. “Can I?”

You feel Steve shiver, his breath is shaky, and though he isn’t quite sure what you’re asking him, he nods anyways.

He will always say yes to you.

The moment Steve nods, you tug at the hand you’re holding and bring his arms around you; he practically melts in your arms. Releasing another shaky breath, he buries his face in your hair and inhales your perfume as if gasping for air. He brings a hand to your hair as he cradles the back of your head, bringing you even closer together.

For the first time in Steve’s life, his mind goes quiet.

You’re aware of everyone else in the room, you know you’ll have to deal with the kids’ nosy questions later, but you don’t care. Steve needs you, and the way he’s clinging onto you as you hug tells you everything you need to know.

He’s barely holding it together, so you discretely shift so that the others can’t see as you attempt to piece him back together with your arms tightening around him and your fingers intertwining through his hair as well.

Your ribs scream in protest as you lean against the boy, but the pain reassures you that you are alive and sharing this pain with someone you’ve come to care deeply about.

“I’m here,” you whisper, feeling Steve’s body shake at the reassurance. “It’s just you and me right now, okay?”

He nods, still too scared to speak. The two of you remain interlocked in the kitchen you grew up in, surrounded by Will’s drawings and memories of early morning breakfasts with Jonathan, and Dustin watches from the kitchen table.

Lucas watches as well and shares a glance with your brother, who can only shake his head and sigh. He knows, sooner or later, that he’ll have to ask you about Steve, he’s never seen you like this before, not even with Jonathan, but for now he leaves you both alone.

When Hopper angrily hangs up the phone, Dustin uses it as an opportunity to distract himself. “They didn’t believe you, did they?”

“We’ll see,” Hopper sighs, tired.

“‘We’ll see’? We can’t just sit here while those things are loose!” Mike exclaims, his foot tapping nervously underneath the table.

The chief sighs again, now spotting you and Steve still holding each other in the corner. “Hey, Henderson and pretty boy, get a room. Mike, we stay here and we wait for help.”

Hearing your name, you finally break apart from Steve and send Hopper an embarrassed glare, clearing your throat. Steve clears his throat as well and takes several steps away from you. His cheeks flaming red.

“Did he call me pretty boy?” Steve whispers to you, but you shush him, instead walking over to Mike, who has now started to tap his foot even more aggressively.

Standing behind the boy, you rub his shoulder, unsure how to help the boy. You know he’s worried about Will and he’s always hated waiting almost as much as you do. At your touch, Mike turns his head to look up at you, and the fire that’s always been in his eyes has died.

You look around the table, it’s quiet. Max is playing with her fingernails, Lucas is staring at the table with tears in his eyes, and Dustin is watching as you try to comfort Mike. All the kids are in their own state of shock and grief. They’re too young for all of this.

Meanwhile, Steve hangs back by the corner, knowing that this is what you do best: you take care of people. He watches as you furrow your brows for a second, a slight quirk he’s picked up about you, and slowly he sees you piece together how to help the kids you love so dearly.

You start with leaning against the table, wedged between Dustin and Mike, and somehow–Steve has always wondered how you do this–you light up the cold room with warmth.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of this by yourself,” you stroke Mike’s hair, it’s rare that you get to do this, but he remains numb to your touch. “Had I known any of this would happen, I would’ve made you more fudge brownies.”

Though it’s small, almost imperceptible, Mike lets out a tiny huff, a placeholder of a laugh.

At least it’s a start.

You whisper more words to him as Dustin leans against your back, grounded by your presence, and Max watches this with interested yet envious eyes. She still has yet to grow used to your kindness, to the love you share with the boys: a sibling relationship she’s never had before.

As you’re comforting Mike, his eyes wander towards the living room and suddenly he gets up. You watch, curious as to what he’s doing, as he grabs a cube and delicately rolls it around in his hand.

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?”

At the mention of Bob’s name, you bring Dustin closer to you. With everything that’s happened tonight, the reminder of the man’s death fills you with raw, unfiltered grief. When you arrived at the Byers home and found a distraught Joyce, you knew.

Bob is dead, and he has taken all the kindness he shared with you. He was a sweet man, one who took you in without any question as soon as he started dating Joyce, a man who offered you rides to work and encouraged you to stop by his own job any time. The same man who brought the woman who is like a second mother to you, back to life.

Your heart breaks for Joyce, for Will and Jonathan and all the other kids.

Bob Newby truly was a superhero, everyone he ever interacted with came out a better person because of it. He never left anyone without a smile on their face, and now he’s gone.

Once you’ve managed to swallow down your grief, you voice from the kitchen, “I didn’t know that.”

Mike turns to you. “He petitioned the school to start it and everything, and then he had a fund-raiser for equipment. Mr. Clark learned everything from him.” There’s light in his voice as he approaches the table again, a spark as if the fire is trying to relight itself. “Pretty awesome, right?”

Dustin and Lucas nod, faint smiles on their own faces. “Yeah.”

Mike sets the cube down. “We can’t let him die in vain.”

You agree with him, but how could you possibly accomplish something like that>

“What do you want to do, Mike?” Dustin lifts his head up, frustrated. “The Chief’s right on this. We can’t stop those Demodogs on our own.”

“Demodogs?” Max finally speaks up.

You sigh, tired of hearing your brother’s explanation of his made up name. “Please don’t ask–”

“Demogorgon, dog. Demodog.” Your brother explains, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Demodogs. It’s like a compound… It’s like a play on words–”

“Okay!” You and Max say at once, cutting off his spiel.

“I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe…”

You snort at Dustin. “Tell that to my ribcage.”

The boy glares at you and Lucas takes over, reigning you both back in. “But there’s an army now.”

“Precisely,” Dustin sighs in defeat.

Mike, who has been quiet the entire conversation, realizes something. “His army.”

Steve looks around, confused. “What do you mean?”

“His army!” Mike faces everyone, and the fire behind his eyes now fully alive, and you know he’s come up with some genius plan like his sister always does. “Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army too.”

Dustin and Lucas share a glance and seem to be understanding what Mike is saying, but you look to Steve, equally as lost as he is, before Mike runs out the room while the others follow.

“Any idea what that kid is saying?” The teen asks you, but you shake your head.

“On a good day, I understand maybe a quarter of what Mike says. However, with significant blood loss and no real meals in me, I’m afraid I have no fucking idea what’s happening.”

“Cool,” Steve steps closer to you and motions for you to guide the way. “Let’s follow, then.”

You find the kids in Will’s room, all standing over a picture that the boy drew. In it is a looming figure with four long limbs, its figure thin and haunting as it stalks over the picture. Seeing the drawing, you get an uneasy feeling.

“The doctor said it was like a virus, it infected him.” Mike is explaining, speaking so fast you can barely keep up as you and Steve stand in the doorway.

“What virus?” You ask, now standing next to the kids.

Mike hands you the picture. “The shadow monster, it got Will that day at the field.”

“And this virus… It’s connecting him to the tunnels?” Max seems to be following along better than you are, which is quite depressing.

“The tunnels, monsters, the Upside Down, everything.”

Something within your stomach drops, the familiar weight of guilt follows it. “Will is still connected to the Upside Down?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Steve steps in now, sensing your panic, and tries to rectify the situation. “Let’s all just slow down.”

Mike groans. “The shadow monster is inside everything, and if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will.”

Again, guilt throws itself against you with all its weight, and you feel each thud against your body like a hammer feels a nail.

Lucas nods. “And so does Dart.”

“Like what Mr. Clark taught us. The hive mind.” Mike follows.

You’re silent, staring at the picture still in your hands.

Steve crosses his arms. “Hive mind?”

“A collective consciousness, a super organism.” You hear Dustin clarify, but it’s all beginning to blur together for you.

All you can think is that you’re the reason Will has become entangled in all of this, in alternate dimensions, infected with a monster so powerful that it can create vast tunnels underneath your feet and monsters bred to kill.

Mike is on a roll now, it’s all clicking together. “And this is the thing that controls everything. It’s the brain–”

“Like the mind flayer,” Dustin realizes, which causes both Lucas and Mike to stop in their tracks.

It seems the boys have figured it all out, then.

And it seems to you that old scars will never fade, not in the way that they should.

Swallowing down your nausea and tears and guilt, you finally speak. “Explain everything to me.”

–

Dustin throws the DnD book onto the Byers’ kitchen table, beginning to explain everything as everyone gathers around.

You stand next to him, Steve to your right, and watch as your brother commands the room as if he was born to do so. As he explains, you look around and everyone. Jonathan stands next to Lucas, facing across from you, and Nancy finds herself standing to your left, worried.

“Oh my god, none of this is real,” Hopper is already over the entire situation, which annoys you. “This is a kid’s game.”

“I’m sorry, but those Demodogs that just attacked us are logical to you?” You snap at the cop, completely baffled that he for some reason decided to draw the line at a DnD reference rather than literal demons from another dimension.

Hopper narrows his eyes at you, but before he can say anything, Jonathan shrugs his shoulders. “Y/N has a point, you know.”

“Okay, before we all start fighting, I just want to point out that this,” Dustin points to the book on the table. “Is a manual, and it’s not for kids. Unless you know something that we don’t, this is the best metaphor–”

“Analogy.” Lucas interrupts.

“Analogy, that’s what you’re worried about?” You grab at Dustin’s jacket to try and settle him down, but he’s angry and annoyed and you know it’s been a long day for everyone. “Fine. An analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is!”

Nancy sees you struggling with the boy and tries to step in. “Okay, so this mind flamer thing–”

“Flayer,” you gently correct.

“What does it want?”

Dustin bites his lip. “To conquer us, basically. It believes it’s the master race.”

Steve, who is leaning next to Dustin and you, snaps his finger. “Like the Germans?”

“Uh… The Nazis?” Your brother looks at you, silently urging you to shut the teen up, and you pinch your nose again and sigh.

“Oh, buddy.” You loop your arm through his and pat Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s just listen, okay?”

Steve tries to say more but you hold your finger up, indicating that you won’t listen to whatever he’s about to say, and he rolls his eyes at you but rests his free hand against the one you have on his arm.

However, when Lucas announces that you could all be dealing with the end of the world, Steve lets out a dry laugh and tries to pull away from you, freaking out. “That’s great! That’s really great, Jesus!”

You pull him back by the arm, forcing him to stand next to you and calm down, and he doesn’t try to fight it. Though he’s scared out of his fucking mind and in over his head, he listens to your silent command and comes back to you. Once he’s still, you unwrap your arm from his and bring that hand to the back of his neck, playing with the baby hairs there to try and soothe him.

Steve leans into your touch, his shoulders start to relax, and you know he’s slowly calming down.

Jonathan sees this interaction and catches your eye, and when he has your attention, he flashes you a knowing smirk as he mouths, friendly, aren’t we?

You narrow your eyes and subtly point between him and Nancy, mouthing back, you’re one to talk, which effectively shuts Jonathan up and he diverts his eyes again, going back to focusing on what Dustin and the others are saying.

“No, no fireballs,” Dustin is explaining to Hopper. “Instead, you–uh. You summon an undead army and… Uh, because… Zombies, ya know? They don’t–uh, have brains and the–the mind flayer, it, uh, likes brains.”

When your brother sees you shaking your head in disappointment and Hopper’s barely controlled anger, he quickly finishes with, “It’s just a game.”

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “You did well explaining, buddy.”

Dustin gives you a weak thumbs up as Hopper angrily throws the book down. “What the hell are we doing here?”

“I thought we were waiting for your military backup.” Dustin retorts, and you quickly raise your hand for a high five, which he gladly accepts.

Hopper sees this and rolls his eyes. “We are!”

“But even if they come, how are they gonna stop this? You can’t just shoot this with guns!” Mike quips, and you give him a high five as well.

“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything!” Hopper roars, and it takes everything within you not to flinch at his raised voice.

“We do know, actually.” You say, voice quiet but stern as you try to steady your heartbeat. You’ve never, ever been able to hear a man yelling at you without some form of panic clawing at your chest. “Ask Nancy about the guns. We fought a fully grown Demodog last year, you seem to conveniently forget that.”

Hopper clenches his jaw. “Every time I start to like you, you piss me off again.”

“It’s a skill.”

Everyone begins to argue again, Hopper with you while Dustin, Lucas, and Mike take your side to try and reason with the cop, before a frail, broken voice silences you all.

“They’re right.” Joyce stumbles from her room, her face still wet with tears as grief overtakes her.

“Mrs. Byers,” you breathe out, immediately walking over to the woman to stand by her side, but she gently pushes you away.

“We have to kill it.” Anger slowly spills into her voice. “I want to kill it.”

Hopper joins your side now, the two of you surrounding the woman. “Me too, Joyce. Okay? But how do we do that? We don’t exactly know what we’re dealing with here.”

“We don’t know what could happen to Will,” you urge, understanding Joyce’s anger but terrified of how it may affect her son.

“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it’s Will.” Mike begins to walk over to the boy, who is still knocked out cold on the couch. “He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.”

Everyone stands in the living room now, and dread encases its hand around your throat. You don’t want to make Will any more involved in this than he needs to be, he’s been through too much.

Max cocks her head. “I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore. That he’s a spy for the mind flayer now.”

“We can always trust Will.” There’s an edge to your voice, and Jonathan has to grab your hand to steady you.

Mike nods, understanding what you’re trying to voice. “I know, Y/N. We can always trust him, and he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is.”

–

Somehow, Steve gets paired up with Nancy to cover the inside of the Byers’ shed with tarps.

One minute Steve had been standing behind you in the living room as Mike explained his plan, and the next minute he was being auctioned off to join his ex in a small shed while you got to happily team up with Jonathan and his mom.

It was unfair, really.

While he’s moping about his luck, Nancy hesitantly looks at Steve, clearly also as equally uncomfortable in the silence. She lingers as Steve begins to hang up another tarp and she tears a piece of tape for him, waiting.

She watches as Steve’s body stretches the length of the wall and realizes that this is the first time they’ve been alone together since their conversation at school, and that his languid movements are foreign to her.

Nancy hasn’t seen him so at ease in a long, long time.

She thinks about how you’d been with him these last few days while she had been with Jonathan, and she wonders what else may have possibly changed in such a short amount of time.

“Hey,” she finally says, the silence clawing at her. “What you did, um… Helping the kids, that was really cool.”

Steve still looks at Nancy with such sincerity and warmth, something that makes her stomach twist with guilt. He doesn’t know what she’s done just yet, and she doesn’t know if he has a right to even care at all.

“Yeah,” he exhales, breaking the eye contact first. “Those little shits are real trouble, ya know?”

Nancy finds herself laughing, grateful he seems open to talking to her. “Believe me, I know.”

“It’s a miracle that Y/N survived so long on her own.” Steve says absentmindedly, returning to hanging up the tarp.

Hearing your name causes Nancy’s stomach to twist again. Steve may not have pieced everything together just yet, but she knows that you have. You’ve always been able to read people well, too well, even.

Jonathan wasn’t yours and she wasn’t Steve’s, yet Nancy feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for the two of you.

“It’s nice that you were there for her,” Nancy avoids looking at Steve again.

“Y/N has been there for everyone else, so I figured it was time that someone was finally there for her?” He shakes his head, unsure what he’s even saying. “I just… I wanted to help her.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, she only nods and continues tearing off more pieces of tape.

You’re too good, everyone knows this, and sometimes Nancy finds herself resenting you for it, even though none of it is your fault.

–

Jonathan tears down another bedsheet from the clothing line and tosses it into the growing pile of sheets and bedding in your arms; he yanks them down, you catch, and then he cuts the lines with the knives you loaned him.

“You sure this is gonna work?” Jonathan asks his mom, who has joined the two of you to collect her own pile of sheets to cover the shed.

Joyce nods, the familiar frantic look in her eyes from last year is now back. “He knew who I was. He’s still in there. It’s gonna work, it has to.”

You peek from behind the pile of cloth you’re holding. “Who knows, maybe we can finally prove whether or not Freud’s theory of consciousness is correct.”

Jonathan doesn’t understand what you mean, but Joyce sends you a grateful smile, appreciative that you’re trying to remain optimistic despite the situation, and then leaves before her son can question the plan once more.

As soon as the two of you are alone, Jonathan puts your switchblade in his pocket and then faces you, not wasting a second to finally have you to himself. “Okay, tell me everything I missed while I was gone.”

His eager curiosity makes you smile. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but aren’t we on a time limit?”

“I think we can spare a few minutes, bug.”

“Fine, but at least grab some of these sheets so I can actually look at you while I talk.”

Jonathan laughs and does as he’s told, grabbing some of the cloth you’re holding and lessening the weight of it for you. Once he’s able to see your face, he smiles warmly at you. “Hi,”

“Hi, bee.” The greeting drips from your mouth like pure honey, and with two simple words, Jonathan can feel himself finally begin to relax.

“So,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that what you’re about to tell Jonathan will remove the carefree smile on his face. He’ll only blame himself, and you hate the responsibility he seems to feel for you.

“The only major thing, well… Besides the Demodogs, is that I spilled milk all over Billy, the guy you punched at the Halloween party.”

Jonathan gapes at you. “What?”

“Yeah, it was kinda awesome, honestly. He was being a bitch, accusing me and Steve of getting together to piss you and Nance off, and he was just being an overall creep, so… I spilled milk on him to get him to shut up so that Steve wouldn’t end up knocking the guy out.”

“Wait, Steve was there?” He tries to keep his voice level, but even Jonathan can hear the underlying hurt within his voice.

He’s not sure why the hurt is there, or why the thought of Steve being the one now protecting you sends a punch to his throat.

“Yeah,” you frown at him, confused by his sudden shift in mood. “He was with me in the lunchroom, wanted to know where you and Nance had run off to.”

Jonathan swallows. “I’m glad he was there, bug.”

And he is, he knows he is, but he also knows that it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the shift that has come between the two of you. How it was only thirty minutes ago that you had wrapped your arm around Steve’s, not Jonathan’s.

He clears his throat. “So, about Steve…”

“What about him?” You feign ignorance, but Jonathan sees the blush that has started to spread across your face.

“You’re blushing, bug.” It hurts him to tease, but he knows he has to. Jonathan has to play the role he had been given when he was twelve and had met you that day on Nancy’s front porch.

The same girl he slept with last night, who he has come to love with such devotion that he still struggles to accept within himself.

They haven’t talked about it, at least not yet, but all the unsaid truths between you and Jonathan hang over him. He can feel the lines and threads and strings all closing in on you two, and he knows you can also sense it as well.

“It’s nothing, bee.” You start walking towards the shed, uncomfortable now. You don’t want Jonathan’s teasing, not when it comes to Steve; it’s too painful, you still haven’t quite come to terms with your newfound feelings for the boy.

Not when you haven’t laid your feelings for Jonathan to rest, yet.

It wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

Jonathan steps in front of you, blocking your path. He feels as if he’s about to lose you, and for the first time since he’s met you, he doesn’t know how to make you stay. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just… I know you.”

His words burn.

“Let’s just get back to the shed–”

“Bug,” he blocks your path again. He’s not ready to lose you just yet, but he knows he will soon. It’s inevitable. “I know you, and when you’re around Steve, you just… You’re different, a–a good different, and–”

“Jonathan, I really don’t want to talk about this,” you plead, but he hears the at least not with you that goes unsaid. “Why don’t you focus on your newly formed relationship with Nancy, okay?”

Jonathan stumbles over his feet. “You–you know?”

“I know you,” you echo his words from moments ago, with its melancholy and all.

He sighs, steps to the side, and lets you go.

It’s quiet after that.

–

In the shed, everyone busies themselves with their tasks.

You, Steve, and Lucas run around with nail guns and tape for those who need it. The rest of the kids work as a unit, helping one another with covering every inch of wall they can find. Meanwhile, Nancy wraps newspaper around the poles while Jonathan carries Will through the door.

Seeing Will, limp within Jonathan’s arms, only reminds you of the dead body that had been pulled from the quarry last year.

Only this time it really is Will.

Together, you and Jonathan gently place the boy in the chair and tie him. You ignore the way your heart clenches as you knot the cords together; you’re doing this to save him. Joyce prepares the medicine needed to knock Will out, in case anything happens, and as you watch, Lucas and Mike switch on the overhead lamps, blinding you.

“Christ,” you mumble, holding your hand up to shield your eyes from the light.

“It works,” Mike looks at you, hopeful. “It’s gonna work.”

Hopper steps forward, facing everyone. “If you aren’t related to the Byers family, get out.” While everyone begins to leave, you and Mike remain where you are. When Hopper sees this, he frowns. “What did I just say?”

Dustin and Steve linger in the doorway, both silently asking you what the plan is, and you give them a slight nod to indicate that it’s okay. You’ll join them later, right now Will needs you and you sure as hell aren’t leaving Mike and Jonathan alone to deal with this.

“Y/N is family, Hop.” Joyce stands next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You smile at her before facing the chief. “I’m staying.”

“Me, too.” Mike echoes, standing his own ground against the man, and you refrain from giving him another high five for his bravery.

Better not to upset Hopper too much more.

The man in question groans, too tired to argue. “Fine, you two can stay, but only because I know that if I don’t let Henderson stay then Jonathan will probably have a panic attack or something.”

Jonathan shrugs. “Probably.”

Dustin rushes over to you and gives you a tight hug. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you kiss the top of his hat, catching Steve’s eye in the process. “Take care of him, please?”

Steve nods, without any hesitation to do as you’ve asked. “Of course.”

And with that, the door to the shed closes as the last of the group leaves.

It’s silent after that, and you take a second to admire the work everyone did. The shed is completely unrecognizable, and the lights will only further limit Will’s vision. A part of you truly believes that this plan could work, but you’ve long since stopped letting your hope get the better of you.

“Alright, you ready?” Hopper looks over at Joyce, holding the ammonia needed to wake Will up.

“Yeah,” the woman crosses her arms, and you want to reach out and hold her.

Everyone is quiet as Hopper crouches in front of Will and dabs some ammonia onto a cotton ball. Then, slowly, he brings it up to the boy’s face and waits for him to inhale. When he does, Will’s eyes snap open and he inhales so sharply that you’re worried he’s hurt himself.

You stand in between Mike and Jonathan, and seeing the pure fear on Will’s face brings tears to your eyes. He reminds you of a deer, small and frail, with eyes so full of fear that it makes you ache.

Will’s eyes dart around the room, and when he notices that he’s tied to the chair, he begins to tug at the cords. “What–what is this? Why am I tied up?”

“Will, we just wanna talk to you,” Joyce softly tells him, now eye level with the boy as she does her best to calm him down. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Where am I?” The fear that had once been in Will’s voice is gone, now replaced with an anger that seems so foreign to associate with the boy.

Hopper joins now, showing him the picture of the mind flayer that he drew. “You recognize this?”

Will shakes his head and looks over at you, now realizing that you’re there, and you force yourself to look away. He’s always been the sweetest boy, but he killed so many innocent people today, even if he hadn’t meant to.

You trust Will, you do, but you remind yourself that the boy in front of you isn’t really him.

“We wanna help you,” Joyce tries to reassure him again. “But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it.”

At the mention of killing, Will’s eyes widen as more anger seeps through him, now shouting at his mother, “Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up?”

He begins to thrash around, throwing his head back against the wall as he repeatedly screams and begs to be let go. The lights are now flickering and immediately you draw Mike into your chest, trying to mask your own tears as you comfort him.

Jonathan clings behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buries his face into your shoulder, and blindly you reach behind yourself so you can hold him as well. When you feel his tears spill against your skin, you wrap your arms tighter around Mike and cry.

Will continues to scream, becoming more and more violent, and something demonic seems to crawl into his vocal chords as he screams.

You hold Mike and Jonathan tighter against you, doing everything you can to be there for the boys. You knew this would be difficult, but as the lights continue to flicker and Will’s pale face quickly becomes paler with every plea, you feel weak.

With Jonathan behind you and Mike in front of you, both boys clinging onto you as sobs wrack your own body, it becomes unclear who is being held up and who is the one holding.

Hopper has his own arms wrapped around Will, and slowly, miraculously, his pleas begin to fade off. Exhaustion seems to overtake the boy, as he starts to mumble more than scream, and with every exhaled breath, the light’s flickering settles down.

Finally, silence.

The only sound in the shed is Will’s labored breaths, alongside your own.

Joyce sits in the chair placed in front of Will, takes a moment to find her words, and then asks the boy, “Do you know what March 22nd is?”

You do, it’s Will’s birthday, and you listen as Joyce talks about his eighth birthday and how she had gotten him a giant box of crayons and he had used all the colors to draw a rainbow ship. With every word, more despair and love fills the woman’s voice as she reflects on how proud she is of him, how much she loves him, and you have to turn away for a moment to wipe at your eyes.

After Joyce has finished her story, you all see something within Will. As if he’s coming back to himself, his eyes no longer holding the malic from earlier.

Jonathan detangles himself from you and wipes his eyes as well, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Do you remember the day dad left?”

You turn around, already knowing the story that he’s about to tell, and you press a soft kiss to Mike’s forehead before joining Jonathan at Will’s side. He can’t be alone when he retells this story, because he hadn’t been alone when it happened.

“We stayed up all night building Castle Byers,” Jonathan reflects, nudging you as you crouch down in front of Will as well. “It was Y/N’s idea to build it just the way you drew it.”

“You loved the idea,” your voice cracks, but you try to hide it so that you don’t scare the boy.

You remember how Will’s face lit up when you surprised him with the idea. He hadn’t left his room in hours, blaming himself for Lonnie leaving, and Jonathan had shown up at your window, in tears as he confessed that he didn’t know how to help Will.

After yanking the teen into your room and sitting him down on your bed, you had told him that Will simply needed someone there for him, to remind him that he was good and lovely and that everything that Lonnie had ever said was wrong.

Later that day, the two of you showed up to the hardware store; two young teens with only pocket change as currency, and you’d bought all the supplies needed for Castle Byers.

“And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering.” The fondness of the memory causes Jonathan to laugh, and you do so as well as you remember just how many times Will had accidentally hit his fingers rather than the nail. “You missed the nail every time.”

“I thought you’d lose a finger, honestly.” You add, which Joyce laughs at.

Jonathan continues. “And then it started raining, but we stayed out there anyway. All of us were sick for like a week after that… But we just had to finish it, didn’t we? We just had to.”

You squeeze the teen’s hand and lean in closer to Will, sensing that it’s now your turn to speak. “Do you know what my nickname is for you?”

Will slowly nods, his eyes going to Jonathan and then back to you, indicating that he understands he’s your little bee.

“Little bee, that’s right.” It isn’t difficult to reminisce on your favorite memory with the boy, it comes to you immediately. “After we all had gotten the cold, do you remember the awful flu that Jonathan and Dustin somehow got like a week afterwards?”

Jonathan snorts, remembering how annoyed he had been for being so sick for so long. He had missed two whole weeks of school, and you were the one who had to bring his assignments to him and help with his homework.

“That weekend, our moms decided that it made more sense to send Jonathan to my house so he and Dustin could quarantine together, so I stayed at your house and we spent the entire weekend alone. Just you and me.”

You smile softly, the memory fresh and warm like an early spring day. You love Jonathan and Dustin endlessly, but being alone with Will was special. A rare occasion that the two of you always relished in. “That weekend, we watched all your favorite movies and I taught you how to bake the cookies you love so much… You taught me how to draw, and together we were happy.”

Your voice breaks again, the warmth of the memory slightly stings as you gaze into Will’s sunken eyes. Two years ago you had all of Will, his happiness genuine and his heart kind, and now you’re terrified you’ll never have that version of him back ever again.

Jonathan notices your hesitancy and strokes your face gently. “Go on,”

You grab the hand on your face and kiss it, grateful for the strength he’s loaning you. “We–we were almost sad when Dustin and Jonathan got better, because we had enjoyed our little weekend getaway.”

Joyce lets out a shaky breath as she reaches for you as well, her hand landing against your shoulder, a place she has long since inhabited for herself whenever she wants to express her love for you. She knows how fiercely you love her sons, and she remembers all the laughter and joy she heard that weekend within her home, a home that had long since stopped being warm for her.

“That weekend…” You force down the sobs that threaten to spill over. You have to finish the story, to remind Will of who he is again. He has to come back to you. “That weekend, you became my little bee.”

As soon as you say Will’s nickname, you lean away from the boy and try to collect yourself. You’ve said all that you physically can for now, and you hope it was enough. You hope, more than anything, that it will be enough to bring Will home again.

Mike steps forward now, and Will turns his head to him. “Do you remember the first day that we met?”

You notice the tear that falls down the boy’s face, and you lean your head against Jonathan’s shoulder in exhaustion as you listen to his story. It’s one you’ve never heard before, and it’s rare to see Mike so vulnerable with his feelings.

“It was… It was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends, and–and I just felt so alone and so scared but–” More tears come. “I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself.”

Jonathan’s hand finds your hair as you both listen, and you know he’s thinking the same as you. How finding your person in a world so vast and lonely can bring you to life.

“I just walked up to you and… I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend, and you said yes.” Mike swallows, now diverting his eyes away from everyone. “You said yes, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Mike finishes with more tears, and you walk over to him so that he can hide his face against you. You know he wants to be alone right now, that he hates how exposed his emotions are, and as soon as you’ve wrapped your arms around the boy he buries his face in your chest and softly cries.

You do your best to shield him from the world.

Meanwhile, Joyce tries again to reach Will. “Will, baby. If you’re in there, just please… Please talk to us. Please, honey, can you do that for me? I love you so much.”

Something seems to collapse within Will, he fights back tears as his breathing becomes labored again. For a moment, you think it’s worked, that he’ll finally come back and you’ll have your little bee again.

“Let me go.” Will demands again, and you feel everyone’s heart in the room drop.

It’s quiet for several moments, but there’s a faint tapping that you hear. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you’re sure that it hadn’t been there moments ago. You look around the room and see Hopper doing the same.

When your eyes meet his, he tilts his head at you as if to ask if you hear it too. You nod, and Hopper looks around once more before he freezes.

“Out,” Hopper suddenly orders, leaving no time for anyone to argue as he flings the shed door open and marches towards the Byers home.

–

“What happened?” Dustin immediately asks as soon as you enter the house.

“We think we found something,” you inform him, pointing to Hopper, who has now sat down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper.

Everyone gathers around him as he starts to scribble a series of lines and dots. “I think he’s talking, just not with words.

“What is that?” Steve asks, lost as to how lines and dots are so important.

“Morse code,” all the boys answer in unison.

Steve leans over you and whispers, “Why do they always do that?”

“You get used to it. Now shush.”

Hopper spells out the letters he remembers Will tapping. “H-E-R-E.”

“Here.” Everyone says out loud.

“Will is still in there. He’s talking to us.” The chief says, looking at Joyce.

Your eyes meet Jonathan’s and an idea comes to you. “If the memories we’re telling him are working, then what about music?”

Hopper thinks for a moment, but Jonathan has already run to his room to grab his stereo and cassette tapes, understanding exactly what you’re thinking.

A plan forms from there.

You, Jonathan, Mike, and Joyce all take turns telling Will stories while his favorite song plays. Should I Stay or Should I Go? Plays within the shed as memories fill it with warmth and Hopper taps out on a walkie everything that Will taps.

Inside the house, the kids, Nancy, and Steve all listen to the walkie and write down the morse code to decipher what Will is saying.

Jonathan tells him about real music, Mike recounts the time Will saved the party during one of their campaigns, Joyce talks about a kind moment from his childhood, and you tell him about the wonderful drawing he made for your birthday. The one of you, Jonathan, and the party fighting a dragon.

“You drew me as a princess and Jonathan laughed when he saw it. Said it was very fitting.” You say, nervously watching as Will frantically taps against his chair. “When you gave me the picture, I think I almost squeezed you to death when I hugged you. It’s still the best birthday gift I’ve ever been given–”

The sound of a telephone ringing cuts you off, and Will snaps his head up, no longer paying any attention to you.

You freeze, now realizing that the music has shut off. Will has to have heard it, and you know he’ll figure out where you guys are. His eyes droop shut and you slowly back away into Jonathan, who grabs you and pulls you even further away. He’s tense, you both are.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Joyce tries to draw Will back in, but he’s starting to pant as his eyes flutter rapidly underneath his eyelids.

“It knows. It knows where we are.” Hopper says as Joyce reaches for the sedative.

With one fluid movement, she injects Will and immediately he knocks out. His head falls forward, his breathing now back to normal. You pull at Joyce so that she faces you. “Did we knock him out in time?”

She doesn’t say anything, and Hopper runs outside while Jonathan and Mike join. The two of you stand in the shed alone, silent, both filled with dread.

Jonathan comes running back in. “They’re coming!”

“Shit!” You scramble to help him untie Will and you and Hopper use your knives to speed up the process. Your hands are shaking, but there’s no time to steady them.

Once Will is untied, Jonathan throws him over his shoulder and runs to the house. Joyce and Hopper follow and you grab Mike’s hand to make sure you don’t lose him. As you run, you hear the familiar screeches of the Demodogs and the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

They’re close.

Inside, you take the lead and shove everyone out of the kitchen. “Get to the living room. Now!”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve is at your side now, his voice soft with fear.

You’re about to reassure him that it’ll be okay, to lie through your teeth, but then you see the kids by the windows and groan. “Get away from the windows!”

They scurry away and Hopper steps in, holding a shotgun that he offers to Jonathan. “Do you know how to use this?”

Jonathan looks around as if Hopper has asked someone else. “What?”

“Can you use this?”

While Jonathan stumbles over his words, Nancy confidently walks over. “I can.”

Hopper nods and tosses her the gun before turning to you, “I saw the switchblade earlier. Use it.”

You flick your wrist and extend the blades, doing as you’re told.

Everyone gathers around, with an assortment of weapons, and you get the insane urge to laugh. Of course you’re back here a year later, standing in Jonathan’s living room as monsters from another dimension threaten your loved ones.

Jonathan stands in front of Joyce while you stand in front of Dustin, knives raised to your face. Steve stands in front of you, his back facing you as he wields his bat, ready to defend you and your brother.

You make sure to keep an eye on Lucas and Max, who are to your left, trusting that Nancy has Mike as she and Hopper raise their guns.

All eyes are on the windows, no one says anything as you all wait. With every passing second, the howls and screeches outside get louder. Then, a loud screech comes from your right, and everyone turns around.

“What are they doing?” Nancy asks no one in particular, her voice shaky but her aim firm and strong.

You see the bushes rustling through the windows, and another snarl comes from the other side that causes you all to scream. There’s commotion outside, a series of screeches and thuds, and your body tenses, preparing itself to fight.

Suddenly, the screeching stops, and through the window a giant body gets thrown.

You scream and Steve shoves you and Dustin further behind him, but your brother realizes before you do what’s happened. “Holy shit.”

The Demodog lays motionless on the floor, its body limp, and you realize with a relieved sigh that it’s dead.

“Is it dead?” Max asks, as you all begin to approach its corpse.

“It is,” you confirm, too scared to ask the question of what the fuck killed it.

As Hopper pokes at the Demodog with his shoe, the front door creaks open, and everyone turns in alarm with weapons at the ready. The lock turns, and you feel a familiar sense of static. It’s been a year since you’ve felt the sensation, a year since the girl who could control things with her mind disappeared and left her memory behind.

It’s El.

She walks in, and you drop your knife in shock when you see that it’s her.

She’s grown so much since you last saw her, her hair is longer and she’s gotten taller. Her clothes are all black, her eyes smudged with makeup. Mike steps forward, you see the way his eyes fill with adoration.

You let out a soft cry, all the guilt and grief you’ve felt over the girl finally lifts, and you can breathe again.

She’s back.

El is alive.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[hamliet]

Honestly to me Thea's portrayal in the most recent books is like a microcosm of how Nora struggles to write all the non-protagonists Ravens. We are told all the time that there is something more to them and that they were victims too in their own ways but like you said there is never a save the cat moment for any of them! It's crazy bc the humanizing of the Ravens was one of the high points of TSC but I don't think it's been followed through well at all.

That's largely true. Though I do think there are some notable exceptions--the difference is that we're not being asked to like them or to root for them. We're just asked to see them as broken people.

Colleen is barely a character, admittedly, but we know enough about her to feel sad when she dies. Lyle Holden is also barely a character, but we empathize with him because of what we're told about him.

Zane is actually a very complex and tragic character. I think he's well-written even if no one likes him. He saved the cat and then he tortured the cat. He's a victim of assault just like Jean (the implication that he was forced to assault Grayson sexually, which would make him a victim as much as Grayson or Jean), but also his betrayal of Jean is unforgivable within the narrative. Do I want him to die, though? Not really, because Jean went to lengths to save his life. Do I want to root for him to fight for a happy ending on page? Absolutely not, and I don't think the narrative is asking us to. Good framing, yo.

Riko is another well-written villain despite his borderline cartoonish sadism. Fight me, people who think he's badly written. Riko is a victim of abuse, but he also then perpetuates that abuse--like Zane. It's not an excuse and it doesn't justify him. It just makes him tragic, and his refusal to kill Wymack because there's a part of him still desperate for a father is just very sad. Ichirou only agreeing to meet him to murder him is also tragic, and the way he kills him--caressing his brother's face, giving him hope, only to shoot him--well, it tells you why Riko is the way he is. But the narrative also never flinches from condemning his actions and never asks for us to root for his happiness. Riko, like Zane, is very well framed.

Grayson is probably the most inhuman of them, but that's kind of expected. Much like Drake. I don't think we're supposed to care when they die, but even seeing Lucas's grief adds an element of humanity there.

Again, going back to the cult history I have... look people in cults aren't always likable. They're usually not. Brainwashing is painful and sad, and also something to keep in mind to avoid throwing out a whole person's humanity despite their inhumane (brainwashed) actions. At the same time... does that mean that the actions they take because of said brainwashing are excusable? In my opinion, they are not, because the impact on victims is still the same regardless.

(Like, do people think students at, say, Liberty University or Bob Jones shouldn't be condemned for their viewpoints and harm to others despite being brainwashed kids? I hope they break out of it, but I still think the harm they've done to women, LGBT+ people, and more won't magically be nullified just because they switch sides.)

[dovahhmonn]

Alessio De Luca

Blurbs and Sketch below

‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧

Alessio De Luca was always meant to be a survivor. But he wasn’t a Reagent, fighting for his life in Murkoff’s trials—he was the thing they had to survive. The moment Murkoff got their hands on him, they twisted him into something else, something useful for their experiments. Now, he stalks the testing grounds as part of the Ex-Pop, a relentless obstacle designed to break the weak and torment the strong. He’s not just a brute, though—he’s a predator who enjoys the game as much as the kill.

He’s still a playboy, but the thrill of conquest has changed. Before, it was about the chase, the seduction, the satisfaction of knowing someone wanted him. Now, it’s about control. He plays with the Reagents, luring them in with charm, whispering sweet lies to see how desperate they’ll get before he turns on them. He enjoys their moment of hope, the brief flicker that maybe, just maybe, he’s different from the other monsters—until he proves them wrong.

His chemical burns give him a permanently lopsided grin, the scar tissue pulling at his smirks in a way that makes them look unnatural, stretched too thin. He knows exactly how unsettling he looks and uses it to get under people’s skin. Some Ex-Pop go full animal, but not Alessio. He still talks, still taunts, still keeps up the act of the smooth criminal he used to be, just with a much darker twist.

Murkoff gave him a toy that suits his personality perfectly—a pistol that looks like it shoots harmless paintballs but bursts on impact with acid. He plays with it like a cat with a feather on a string, testing shots, making sure his victims feel the burn before he actually does any real damage. He never wastes a round. He takes his time, savoring the way panic sets in when they realize those harmless-looking pellets aren’t a joke.

The docks and Franco’s domain are where he feels most at home. He doesn’t just respect Franco—he sees him as a boss, the way he used to view the mobsters he ran with back in New York. Alessio knows how to play the role of the loyal underling, staying in line when it benefits him. But he’s always watching, always waiting for the right moment to rise higher, to get more than what Murkoff has currently given him.

Unlike some of the others, he still remembers the man he used to be. The smooth talker, the dealmaker, the guy who always had a way out. Now, the only way out is through, and he’s made his peace with that. He doesn’t fight against what Murkoff turned him into—he thrives in it. The trials are just another kind of business, another game, and he’s damn good at playing it.

He loves the chaos of it all, the screaming, the desperation, the way people react under pressure. Every Reagent is different, and he takes pride in figuring out their weaknesses. Some beg, some try to fight, some think they can reason with him. It’s all the same in the end. He’ll drag them through the dirt, watch them break, and then move on to the next.

Even in the middle of the carnage, he keeps his charm. He leans in close, murmurs filthy promises, tells them what they want to hear before he ruins them. If he lets one escape, it’s never out of mercy—it’s because he wants to hunt them down again later. He likes to think of it as giving them a head start.

And yet, sometimes, when the trials go quiet, he catches himself humming old Italian love songs from his childhood. A habit from a past life, from a version of himself that no longer exists. He never lets himself dwell on it for long. The moment he realizes, he stops, smirks, and shakes it off. There’s always another Reagent to chase, another game to play, another soul to burn.

NSFW BLURB

De Luca is a man of indulgence, and that doesn’t change when it comes to sex. He treats it like a game, a conquest, a way to exert control and satisfy his insatiable hunger for pleasure. He’s not the type to settle down or grow attached—love is a fairytale, but fucking? That’s real. That’s something he can hold onto. He’ll take what he wants, enjoy it for as long as it entertains him, and then move on before things get too complicated.

He likes variety, both in partners and in the way he plays. Dominance comes naturally to him, but it’s not always about brute force—it’s about control, about making someone want it, beg for it, even if they know they shouldn’t. He enjoys the power he holds over people, whether it’s a slow, teasing buildup or something rough and immediate. He’s not gentle, not in the traditional sense, but he knows how to read a partner’s limits and push them just enough to keep things exciting.

Alessio has no shame and even less patience for prudishness. Dirty talk is a given—filthy, unfiltered, and laced with amusement, as if he’s constantly testing how much his partner can take. He’ll whisper in their ear, drag out his words just to watch them squirm, chuckle when they try to keep up. He’s not above mocking them a little, especially if they’re shy or hesitant. He wants reactions—whimpers, gasps, pleads—and he’ll do whatever it takes to pull them out.

He’s a man who enjoys excess, and that extends to the bedroom. One partner is fine, but more? Even better. He has no qualms about sharing or being shared, as long as he’s still getting his fill. He thrives in situations where pleasure and chaos mix, where lines blur and inhibitions crumble. A good time, to him, is something messy, primal, and unforgettable.

Alessio is tactile, always using his hands, his teeth, his body. He leaves marks—finger-shaped bruises, bite imprints, scratches from where he’s held someone too tightly. He doesn’t mind taking his own share of damage, either; he wears it like a badge, something to grin about the morning after. Pain and pleasure aren’t opposites to him—they feed into each other, heightening the rush, making it all the more intense.

He’s insatiable, and he knows it. One round is never enough. He’ll push his partner past exhaustion, coaxing, teasing, demanding more until they can’t keep up. He doesn’t need love, doesn’t need commitment—he needs heat, passion, the rawness of skin against skin, the proof that he’s still alive, still capable of feeling something real in a world that’s tried to strip it all away.

Aftercare isn’t something he naturally thinks about, but if a partner intrigues him enough, he might linger—tracing the bruises he left, smirking at the wrecked state he’s reduced them to. He’s not the type to cuddle or whisper sweet nothings, but he’ll light a cigarette, share a lazy comment, maybe even run a hand through their hair if he’s feeling particularly indulgent. If they expect tenderness, they’ll be disappointed—but if they just want to bask in the afterglow of something wild and unforgettable, he’s more than happy to oblige.

For Alessio, sex is about pleasure, control, and the thrill of the moment. He doesn’t do promises, doesn’t do “forever.” He’ll ruin someone in the best way possible, make them crave him even when they know they shouldn’t, and then walk away with a grin—because in the end, he always gets what he wants.

How he might proposition a Reagent that catches his eye

Alessio is a manipulator through and through, and when he sets his sights on a Reagent, he plays the long game—or the short one, depending on how desperate they are. He knows that fear and survival can twist people into making choices they normally wouldn’t, and he exploits that at every opportunity. He doesn’t need brute force to get what he wants; he just needs to plant the right ideas in someone’s head and let their own desires do the rest.

One of his favorite tactics is offering protection. He’ll find a Reagent who’s on the verge of breaking, one who’s been running, fighting, and barely surviving. He plays the part of the smooth talker, the reasonable Ex-Pop, the one who might just be willing to cut them a deal. “You’re all alone out here, huh? Can’t imagine it’s easy, always looking over your shoulder. But you stick with me, sweetheart, and maybe things get a little easier.” He makes them think they have a choice, but really, he’s already decided for them.

He knows how to weaponize charm. Unlike some of the other Ex-Pop who rely on brute terror, Alessio gives just enough warmth to make someone second-guess their instincts. He’ll lean in close, his voice low and velvety, his scarred grin making it impossible to tell if he’s being sincere or cruel. “Come on, I ain’t that bad, am I? ‘Sides, it’s not like you got a whole lotta better options.” He’ll brush a hand down their arm, let his fingers linger, watching their reactions with amusement.

For the ones who play hard to get, he makes it a challenge. He’ll chase them, corner them, let them think they’re about to face the worst—only to pull back at the last second, laughing. “Relax, gorgeous. I ain’t gonna kill you. Least, not yet.” He dangles the threat just enough to get their adrenaline pumping, to keep them on edge. Then he starts laying the groundwork. “Bet it’s been a while since someone touched you the right way, huh? This place don’t give you much time for fun.” He knows desperation when he sees it, and he knows exactly how to make them want to give in.

He preys on loneliness just as much as fear. Some Reagents have been in the trials so long that they forget what it feels like to be wanted, to be desired. Alessio reminds them. He makes them feel like they’re making the choice, like they’re the ones in control, when really, he’s been guiding them toward it the entire time. “Just think about it,” he’ll murmur, stepping away, leaving them with nothing but the lingering heat of his presence. “You know where to find me.” And they always do.

꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱

EAT UP MOOTS ENJOY THE NEW MANNNN ♡♡♡♡

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

Stranger things characters as things people at my school have said part two

pt1

El: unsmiley face

Nancy: she's not a failure, because she's a failure

robin: steve is also a pair of rusty car brakes

dustin: He’s communicating

steve: im a dolphin!

steve: I have taken 486 pictures of cement

robin: we don’t have the same taste in men

steve: don't ever say that again. that hurts my feelings

nancy about jonathan: and make me realize 'hey im in love with this gorgeous woman and he loves me'

lucas talking about an axe: it's about 3/4 of a max

will: SIIINNNNNN

Will: im going to slap you with a tree

Dustin: My search history: What is above god?”

El: who's retiring?

Dustin: your mom

El: my moms too young to retire

Mike: your grandma

El: my grandma works at food lion

Mike: i feel like a disappointment

Erica: i feel like a lobster

Joyce: THE CEILING FANS ARE GOING TO FLY OUT OF YOUR HOUSEHOLDS TO START A COLONY ON MARS TO CONSPIRE AGAINST THE HUMAN RACEEEE

robin: im like 10 minutes

Lucas, in the most southern angry voice: IM WORKIN' ON IT

Nancy: what was your childhood dream job?

Robin: *laughs nervously* fAmOuS

Nancy: Robin at some point if you say that you've never been to the beach im just gonna pick you up and drop you in the ocean.

robin: i can't swim either 😃

Mike: the best time of the year is the time when everything is dying slowly and painfully, screaming as they fall to their death. AUTUMN!

max to mike: every part of your being is quirky to me

will: i just came out as short

Nancy: what's your favorite way to eat a potato?

steve: RAW wait no like medium rare

dustin: medium rare is good yes

Dustin: what kind of cheese would you be

max, immediately: sharp cheddar

lucas: maybe i'm like a mozzarella or something

dustin: i see you as a mozzarella

will: Honesty, I couldn’t care less what you do outside of kindness, do whatever

mike to will: I just had the darndest image in my head of smokey the bear saying "only YOU... can do your math homework"

Robin: I bet I could drink poison and live

jonathan : I’ve never been to the hospital

Steve: where were you born

Jonathan : *laughing loudly*

WIll: You know, one of the things I like most about the French language is the fact that they have about 12 different ways to say the F word.

El: You could have made me so happy, but NO. You set my camembert on fire

Mike: Is this the gas line???

Karen, sobbing dramatically: His therapist said that if they just cuddle all their problems will be solved

Robin: i literally just want to live in a house with moss on the sides

Mike, slurping ramen: i’m having hot raw men

Robin: "my cat died of diabetes"

Steve: "my cat died of covid"

dustin & Robin: "whAT?"

steve: "well TECHNICALLY it was lung cancer"

will: look! it's the hallway where we ate our cheese!

Robin: "will what are you allergic to?"

will: "pollen, bullets, radiation..."

Robin: a gaggle of old people

Will: I’m figuring this one is kidnapping

jason: if we're gonna be racist we've gotta be professional about it. professional racism.

mike: *aggressive sniff* THIS IS A COUNTERFEIT HOW DARE YEEEE

nancy: sweat with purpose

El: "is it true that redheads can't wear pink?"

Mike: "yes it diminishes their power"

[my-brain-soup]

I've Never Seen Luka, But Jon Kent Has

Basically I've never watched Luka but I read a fanfic where Jon gets the teen titans to watch it (parallels are drawn between Luca and Alberto and Jon and Damian) so now I will be watching it and writing the thoughts I have during it

No I will not give context and spoiler warning ig

Love the music during the studio logos

We love a superstitious king, I mean, I have a feeling he has a point

IF THEY HIT HIM IMMA BE SO PISSED

Awww, he's such a polite little guy

Luca is a farm boy!!! I love my little Jon Kent varient :)

I, too, would risk my life for shiny object

I, too, do the murder

OMG THEIR SO JON AND DAMIAN BUT LIKE BEING HUMAN IS BEING A VIGILANTE AND ITS THE SAME AS THEIR START BASICALLY I LOVE THEM

HE EVEN HAS THE SUPERMAN CURL

Dami would say he invented walking

And pretend he's not proud of Jon

THEYRE SO CUTESY

Bruno? Or Bruce...o... you get the idea

Sorry, they have Luca grab Alberto like that and expect me not to see them as the most adorable little guy love story? Their so crushing on each other

"You're so lucky your dad lets you do what you want," cue Superman's comment about Bruce getting hit on the head all the time

NO WAY THEIR SENDING HIM TO (basically) BOARDING SCHOOL TO KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE "bad influence" THAT IS ALBERTO

Yes! Grandma, my queen!

"We can do anything" I love this movie

MY FRIEND SMELLS AMAZING

God I don't know her name yet but I love her

JULIA OR HOWEVER YOU SAY IT

We're not telling you our secrets! Tells secrets immediately.

FROM EVERYTHING YOU LOVE?????

I love Alberto so muchhhhhh

I love Mr dad human

Oh they know SOO many fish

No way everyone, including an adult, just saw that bitch rob some kids and didn't do shit

He is a sad little catfish

Why are his parents actually crazy

Aww, Alberto doesn't want to lose his friend

Noooooooo

Luca just wants to learn, and Alberto just wants to feel loved :(

How is the gayest looking dude there being homophobic?

When your new father figue wants to kill your entire species

Alberto got mad when Julia touched Luca's hand...

Why does Luca's hair looks like a croissant

NO LUCA WTF

I WAS ALMOST ON YOUR SIDE

GOD WHAT THE HELL

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DONT KILL YOUR NEW SON

FUCK.

IM NOT CRYING.

Nooooo

Their fort :(

BESTIE NO

NO ALBERTO MY BABY NO

STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY SO YOU DONT GET HURT. IT'S NOT GONNA WORK

God the organizer adult lady us such a bitch

Why is no one concerned that the scuba kid isn't coming up for air?

Aww, his little clap self tap in

It's totally about to rain

Well shit. Sometimes I hate when I'm right

WAIT WAS THAT ALBERTO

I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE WHEN IM RIGHT

FUCK

NO I TAKE IT BACK AGAIN

I love them so much!!!!

MR DAD HUMAN NO

MR DAD HUMAN YES

YAYYYY

KING

Is the mom the same person that voiced Aunt Cass in big hero 6?

YES LOVE ME THE OLD LADIES

I decided it is a metaphor for older lgbtq people, feeling able to come out after younger generations have proved that times have changed, I love them

(They're sisters, so they're not together, but they can still be gay!)

BRO ITS SO ABOUT BEING GAY I LOVE THIS MOVIE

BRO ALBERTO

THOSE LITTLE LOOKS

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE

JULIA 100% KNOWS

About his crush, not just Luca going to school

AHHHH HES SO SWEET

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, YOU NEED EACH OTHER

Their in love, your honor

THEIR LITTLE HAND HOLDING THING I CANT

IM SO MENTALLY ILL FOR GAY FISH

IM CRYING AGAIN

AHHH, THEY RIGHT EACH OTHER LETTERS

ALBERTO LOOKS SO SMITTEN WHEN THEY'RE ON THE PHONE

ALBERTO GETS HIS KNIFE

DOES HE BECOME A LIFEGAURD???

I love this movie

So much

DAMIAN ALSO HAS A CAT AND JON ALSO HAS A DOG

Also, here is my formal apology, her name is spelled Giulia, my b

Alberto learns to carve wood, awww

Also, does Luca EVER get shoes?

I've decided I need an Alberto to become a tattoo artist future au, at least like on the side or for fun or sm

The dedication is adorable

Yes, I just watched all of the credits. What about it?

I was rewarded with an after credits scene, so fuck you.

I'm gonna watch all the deleted scenes now, I'm not gonna specify which one so have fun guessing

Haha, they called Alberto and Luca the main relationship

BOO STOP TRYING TO GIVE LUCA A CRUSH ON GIULIA

YES ALBERTO CHEER ON THE KRAKEN AGAINST THE HUNTER

YES! CONFORMED LUCA A GIULIA ONLY PLATONIC

Also, she was almost a photographer, like TIM DRAKE?!?!?

Don't worry, Luca, I'll ride in a barrel lit on fire down a hill with you

Awww, they were raised by a lobsterrr

BRING BACK CANNED SEA MONSTER FACTORY

OH SEA MONSTER CAN PASS BUT IF THEIR FOUND OUT THE CONSEQUENCES MIGHT BE REALKY DIRE??? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME.

Oh, Jon is extremely charming

I love how they used different animation styles (in how they had the characters move) on land and in the water

PH THE TRANSFORMATION ISN'T CELEBRATED IN LUCAS FAMILY AND HE MAKES IT A CONSIOUS DEASITION TO CHANGE HIS THINKING FROM I SHOULDNT DO THIS TO I SHOULD EMBRASE THIS? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME

Bro, not the first version where Alberto outs Luca to Giulia, eek

And finally, Ciao Alberto!

Aww, Luca wants to see to Portorosso!

THE GAY OLD LADY SISTERS ARE DEFINITELY CLOSE WITH ALBERTO, AND I LOVE IT FOR ALL OF THEM

He finally has people who care about him!!!

AWW ALBERTO JUST WANTS MR DAD HUMAN TO BE PROUD OF HIM

Alberto, you do NOT got this

DONT LIGHT THE BOAT ON FIRE

OH SHIT

Noooo!!! Don't leave!!!

YOU'RE NOT HIS EMPLOYEE, YOU'RE HIS SON

HE CALLED HIM DAD!!!

YAY HUGS

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

MY HEART

I CANT

I love Alberto being an artist (a bad one, for now, but still and artist)

Okay, that's it, Ciao :)

[moonshynecybin]

luca in the same age au at some point is going to get annoyed at rosquez for being on a break again and just show up to marc's house to tell him you need to take vale back he's too much to deal with while you guys are fighting

you guys (and i love you never forget this.) want luca to be the one to get them together VERY badly but im so sorry i think that man mostly just does not think about them at all. truly he is TIRED of his life revolving around his (beloved) brother and his narrative and his drama. and he loves his brother!! but luca knows hes not a GOD. hes just a DUDE. the world does not actually spin on an axis of valentino rossi. and i think luac sees yearsssssss of marc and vale hissing at each other like two extremely territorial and pissed off cats and enacting eight different psychotic horny levels of mind games in every interaction they have on and off-track and vale attempting to cast elaborate witches curses on marc and. he simply sails by comma unbothered. "what if luca trapped rosquez in a closet" FUN. but hes got his OWN SHIT GOING ON. he doesnt have the time OR the will to meddle with them playing 4-D chess whorish wargames against each other to the end goal of precisely fucking nothingggg

like in reality hes taken his own cross unto himself here entirely to ESCAPE the vale narrative. hes currently too busy toiling like telemetry sisyphus laying down testing laps on that DOGSHIT honda and flying around the world every single free weekend he has at his disposal in vain pursuit of NOT EVEN perfection BUT IMPROVEMENT! INCREMENTAL improvement!!! and he fully and of his own volition took that into his legacy. a career defining move that he KNOWS will be initially terrible and suck absolute eggs. he chooooose that bike. he said i will be a factory rider, and i will be remembered outside of my brother, even if it gets me a TERRIBLE time on a motorcycle known for HORRIFIC CONSEQUENCES. idk i think he needs to test himself ! entirely out of vale's shadow ! and i think he saw this as one of the only ways he could do it. he's a data guy. honda needs a test monkey who doesnt mind being in the PITS (a hard sell in an ego-driven profession, even for a factory seat). like he knows thats how he can sell himself. and crucially he took the shot! absolutely fascinating character detail imo... meanwhile vale is TALKING MAD TRASH on podcasts and marc is alternating being pursuant of valentino's myriad narratives concerning switching to ducati and getting his ninth and loitering outside the VR46 ranch throwing eggs at bezz and pecco while simultaneously asking major sports news outlets to let valentino know that he was the best dick he ever had. they are in god's most toxic romcom while luca is bellyflopping into an against-the-odds sports underdog story that he very well may fail catastrophically at! they simply have other priorities! luca wants nothing to do it !!!!

[aquaburst3]

I watched Schaffrillas' new video. The Pixar CEO said something along the lines of, "Our movies should be less about a director's life story and more appealing to the masses." That's one of the dumbest things I've ever heard! I think Dana Terrace put it best, “There’s something disgusting about telling directors, writers, and artists their experiences and inspirations aren’t “appealing” enough for the masses”.

It also makes no fucking sense. You're telling me that Pixar is seeing their recent movies preform like trash and think that instead of improving and making BETTER movies, they should instead make more sequels for existing IPs because people will pay regardless of the quality? That’s bs. Plus, Lightyear was their worst performing movie, and that was a spinoff. Turning Red, Elemental and Luca all performed better than it.

It's also extremely short sighted. A lot of these popular IPs are over 20 years old. There will come a point in time when Disney can't shill Frozen anymore, because it would be seen as "old" by kids and not connect with them. Again, they need to come up with original story ideas like Encanto and Lilo & Stitch or adapting other fairy tales, not become Illuminations. The same goes for Pixar.

I honestly feel like a lot of the media giants like Disney are screwing themselves over while indie animation is on the rise. Say what you will about shit like Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel, but at least they are original and quite popular. Same goes for Digital Circus and that one cat series. That's because you can tell the writers are passionate about the stories they are telling.

The age we're in now reminds me of the 80s with Don Bluth in a lot of ways, except Vivzie and the other indie creators never worked for Disney. A time when Disney struggled, but underdogs with original visions were the ones on top. It's only a matter of time before these shows make Disney nervous and push it in a better direction.

[dragondusst]

Another Bloody Tragedy

Admittedly this is just writing practice since this is my first time writing for fandom in 10+ years.

This is just a slight change/recontextualization of the chapter in Lucas's route another bloody tragedy from his POV. This is me being somewhat skeptical of his lines that he never intended to tell Ceres he was Bourreau. He jumped out a window and ripped someones heart out right in front of her, are you sure??? Not even a little bit??

He didn’t usually abstain on divine judgment. 

He had to be quick in his work after all. The quicker he purified the demons meant the sooner he could pray to God to grant Nadia a miracle and keep her alive once again.

Tonight was a little different. 

This house had a second story window with a perfect view of the street where he could watch people pass by without attracting attention. He waited a long time in that room, watching out of the corner until he caught sight of golden hair and pulled himself away, back against the wall.

“Haah..” he exhaled, steadying his breathing, paying no attention to the cries and weeping from the demon strapped to the chair that had been with him this whole time. 

He’d sent Ceres on that errand to give Mathis his homework, that part had been genuine. He didn’t want to see the poor boy wither away in his room. But the task also had a second reason, which was giving Ceres a predictable route she would come back from while he was here.

 He still didn’t feel quite ready. He felt lightheaded, his heart beat rapidly in his chest with a giddy nervousness to his hands that now clasped the cold heavy halberd. It was unbefitting of an executioner.  

…He was doing this because he needed to throw suspicion off him again, he reminded himself.

It took only one swing. The shriek of terror abruptly cut off as the window splattered with blood, staining it with a screen of red, and he unceremoniously kicked the top half of the remains through the window to crash down below. Dropping the halbred he leapt outside and landed on his feet with the grace of a cat.

He couldn’t see in his peripheral with his hood up, but he heard the sweet gasp of his angel. She was surely alarmed by his sudden appearance, but his angel didn’t have to worry about him hurting her. What would his angel think, knowing the same man exorcising demons was also her teacher? The same man that had been grading papers with her the night before? He had to hide his smile and slid a lock of hair back from under his hood, his nervous habit betraying him.

“Bourreau…?!” 

Lucas’s thoughts screeched to a halt. He didn’t expect a second voice. Frowning he turned to fully stare at them from under the darkness of his hood. He hadn’t anticipated Mathis following her back. The shy boy was cowering just a few steps from Ceres. He always seemed to find a way to squirm into situations when Bourreau was involved.

Lucas pouted, feeling some of his anticipation fizzle out. 

…No matter. He was here to fulfill the purification ritual first. 

Lucas pushed his gloved hand into the body cavity with sickening ease, the flesh parting more like dense liquid than solid matter, and pulled the heart out in one smooth movement that only came from experience. He’d long stopped caring when blood splattered his clothes and hardly noticed it drench the others. Why would it matter, when relievers weren’t truly people to begin with? It wasn’t human blood.

His own heart filled with glee as he put the organ away and thrust the dagger in the empty hole. Lucas clasped his hands together in prayer at his offering up to the heavens, praying to God Nadia would continue to survive, as his devotion granted her a miracle. Another demon purified meant another morning for her to wake up to. Another day they could be together until his death.

The smile on his face grew unusually wide tonight feeling his heart flutter knowing his angel was watching him complete the ritual for the first time. Even as she screamed in terror, all he could feel was elation. 

He wanted her to witness him. It was a selfish desire. He never wanted Ceres to fully know the truth, but he’d found the temptation harder and harder to resist to give her a glimpse behind the curtain. A small part of him that she wouldn’t otherwise know. That he had more sides than just her teacher. He wanted her to know Bourreau wouldn’t hurt his angel. Never her. 

He wanted to convey that, but Mathis’s pale terrified eyes halted him. Having a second witness made things more difficult with how far he could risk exposing himself, and he hesitated. If Mathis found out who he was, he wouldn’t let him get away and Lucas could only see it ending with them fighting. Mathis wasn’t a reliever after all, and he didn’t want to end up harming a human. 

Caution won out and he paused too long, by the time he took a step forward his angel had already got her wits about her and grabbed Mathis by the arm as she led them down an alley. 

Lucas stood there, his feelings sinking down in disappointment as he put a hand to his neck. He shouldn’t be, not really, when things had gone as expected. 

Capucine had agreed to set up a double to throw off suspicion of him again.  He felt it would be necessary,  since the killings would naturally be where he and Ceres were traveling at the time. Lucas frowned deeper, Capucine wouldn’t be gracious enough to set this up a third time. His chance was gone, and any wish he might have secretly harbored vanished with it. 

Why did it disappoint him so much, that Ceres should only know the image of her teacher? 

He had no time to puzzle it over, he had a second part to do. 

Changing his appearance quickly was a skill he’d mastered to keep his identity secret, but he was still lucky to make it in time to save them. Ceres and Mathis were frozen in the alleyway as ‘Bourreau’ blocked their way. 

The fake Bourreau was doing a good job of mimicking him, but he could tell the halberd was deliberately slow to strike. Lucas reassured himself the fake was just scaring them, but the fear this person may just injure his angel sent a flash of fear through him. With his earlier chance failing it made him more determined to fulfill his role to protect her as her teacher now. 

Rushing past the other two he struck out to push the attacker back. Lucas kicked the fake, and immediately knew he’d broken a rib. The strength of the blow knocked the imposter back into the wall and to Lucas’s surprise cracked it on impact. 

Their teacher looked back to his students with concern. “Are you alright!?” He hid his nervousness behind the rush of his words, he’d been clumsy again. He certainly hadn’t intended to destroy the wall. 

“Why are you-“ Ceres looked confused at his sudden appearance, and he took advantage of it. 

“I’ll explain later. First, we need to escape and-” 

The other Bourreau groaned from the pain, and Lucas feigned a nervous look as they got back on their feet. It was a standoff now, and Lucas stood calm and resolute in the face of danger. 

“I may not be much of a threat, but if you dare harm them, I will fight with all my might.” He subtly shifted his body to the side as he readied himself.  

The fake didn’t move, and he could hear Ceres and Mathis stop breathing as they waited frozen in fear. They must be terrified seeing their teacher stand up to who they thought was Bourreau, because even trained fighters like Adolphe and Yves hadn’t stood a match for him, so why should Lucas? 

The fake moved in, and Lucas almost wondered if they’d really attempt to try and attack him when the wall behind them crumbled. They stopped, seeming to second guess their actions, and quickly retreated into the darkness. 

Whatever strength was holding Ceres and Mathis up left them and they dropped to their knees. 

He softly sighed in relief. Things had gone according to plan. Now he could just take care of his students. They’d done so well. 

Lucas smiled above them softly. “You did well to protect each other.” He praised kindly,  “You’ve done…No…you must have been scared.” he corrected himself. He gently knelt down with them and embraced them together. They were bloodied, shaking, and terrified, and his hands gently rested on their shoulders with gentle reassurance. 

“But it’s all right now.” 

They were safe, no one knew the truth, that was all that mattered. It was a necessary evil. He’d be sure to make it up to them as much as he could. 

He locked away those dangerous feelings that could have gotten him exposed, and he wondered why he’d craved it so much in the first place. As he hugged them tighter he could still faintly smell the lingering scent of blood on his skin. An angel didn’t need to know the sins staining his hands. 

[the-lark-ascending69]

your nancy wheeler whump is incredible, ty for the food

— sincerely, a nancy wheeler fan who is also a whump enjoyer

About this post, I think.

Omg anon hiii i'm so happy you liked it!! 🥰🥰 Nancy is such a whumpeable character, maybe because shes so broken inside already 💕 she's just a scared wet cat who needs to be wrapped up in a warm blanket.

A few headcanons for youuuu 💕💕

Robin's parents will be out of town for a few months (they're visiting family far away), so she has the house all to herself, and since the Wheelers are gone and Nancy has nowhere to go, that's where they take her.

Steve and Robin spend a long time looking for the Wheelers. They make a hundred phone calls a day but they keep hitting dead ends. The Wheelers left Hawkins shortly after Nancy was "confirmed" dead, and Mike quickly lost contact with his friends. Finding them has become impossibly difficult, and Steve and Robin worry that they'll never get to tell them Nancy is alive. Nancy misses them like crazy.

The party gets involved super quickly - Lucas, Dustin and Will, as well as the two new kids, Max and El. The boys all cry when they see Nancy, and to Nancy it feels like having siblings again, three new little brothers to try to fill in the space left by Mike and Holly. Max and El just want to help - they're excited to finally meet Nancy Wheeler, Mike's famous sister - he never shut up about her. He always talked about how smart and brave she was and how nothing has been the same since she died. Nancy was a bit surprised to know Mike said that about her, and it only makes her cry. She misses her brother so much.

Max in particular spends a lot of time with Nancy. She helps take care of her when Steve and Robin can't.

Will makes a lot of drawings for Nancy, and she keeps them all by her bedside. She particularly loves the one portraying her family - Mom, Mike, Holly, yes, even her dad.

Nancy experiences a lot of ugly withdrawal symptoms after having been on drugs so heavily for so long. Lots of vomiting and headaches.

Hopper gets involved in her case. She tells him everything, and he begins his investigation. He visits every now and then - it's in his nature. Up until two years ago, he was a father without daughter, and Nancy is a daughter without parents and a sister without siblings. It's only natural when El shows up at Robin's house to spend more and more time with Nancy, happy to have an older sister figure, even if she takes care of Nancy more than Nancy takes care of her. And it's only natural for Hopper to visit a few times a week to ask how she's doing and make sure all her needs are met.

Joyce is overjoyed to hear she's alive, and soon joins Steve and Robin in their search for the Wheeler's new number. She brings food whenever she can and instantly takes on a motherly role in Nancy's life. She agrees that it's best for Nancy to stay at Robin's for the time being, since Joyce and Jonathan spend a great deal of time at work and she'd be all alone for most of the time, but she plans on taking her to live with them when Richard and Melissa Buckley come back.

Jonathan awkwardly tries to help as well - he's often busy with work, but he stops by whenever possible to see if she needs anything. Nancy appreciates that.

Nancy hates appearing weak, but she's set off by the smallest thing - the party's boys hi-fiving each other reminds her of the way soldiers raised their hands to hit her. Steve's loud laughter reminds her of the way the general used to laugh when she cried. Out of the house, she's terrified of needles and hates getting blood tests or vaccines, and going to the dentist is paralyzing - the clattering of the instruments on the metal tray, the shapes of them so similar to the ones they used to rip her nails out, the horrible feeling of foreign objects in her mouth... she has two reactions to these things: she either freezes or she breaks. Freezing includes being almost completely non-verbal, trembling slightly but obeying every order. Breaking includes a lot of crying and panicking.

Her sleep schedule is all messed up - sometimes she can't sleep for more than three hours. Sometimes she blacks out for 18 hours straight. She can never seem to go to sleep and wake up at the same time every day, and she often suffers from nightmares.

She likes cuddling with either Steve or Robin, or even better, both of them. Sandwiched between the two of them, she almost feels like a little kid sleeping between her parents.

Robin really really really didn't like bathing Nancy, or helping her dress up. It feels like she's taking advantage of her. She feels the same when she shares a bed with her. Steve is the one to largely take care of Nancy when it comes to those things. They're still dating, technically, though at this point Nancy can't say she feels love for him. She clings to him because he's familiar, and he loves her, and he makes her feel safe. She appreciates him and cares deeply about him, but if she's honest with herself... she can't love him. She can't bring herself to say that to Steve, of course - after everything he's done for her, she just... tries so hard to convince herself she loves him in the way she's supposed to.

She actually quite enjoys Robin's company, and in part, she'd prefer it if it was her doing all of this for her. Robin can't bring herself to refuse when Nancy asks. They've slept together many times, Nancy cuddled into her chest. It makes Robin's heart ache, but she pushes those feelings down - creep, she thinks to herself. Freak. Pervert. Last thing Nancy needed was a person she trusted secretly lusting after her like a... like the dyke she was.

Nancy realizes she's not having a nice dream at the end of her first day after being rescued. She's drinking a cup of tea with Robin, talking about mindless things - Robin just wanted to make her feel comfortable and she supposed keeping it simple would be best, so she tells her about band and the time she passed out during a school play audition from the nerves. And Nancy looks down at her cup, feels its heat in her hands and the sweet taste in her mouth, and the soft texture of Robin's clean clothes on her skin. She hears the crickets outside, the creaking of the wooden floorboards when Robin paces, and it dawns to her that she is free. She suddenly breaks into tears, and Robin freaks out - calls Steve - and they both try her best to comfort her. Nancy hugs herself - she wants her mother and brother and little sister, it breaks her heart to know they left, that they thought her dead. But somehow, in Robin and Steve's arms, she feels warm. Safe, for the first time in years.

[bothkindsofmusic]

Is this thing on? Been a lonnnnnng while, but I want to test the waters to see if there's an audience for country music on Tumblr 2023.

I've been making a weekly playlist in lieu of a radio show for a couple months now. Figure that'd be a good place to start.

If you like country music that's outside the mainstream, check out this playlist. It's full of new and recent releases. I kick it off with a classic country song and send it off with Willie Nelson. In between you'll find music from artists making country music in their own way with their own style. While the music changes every week, the playlist stays in the same spot. Plus, there's an archive where I retire the old playlists.

If you find something you like, let me know and give the artists a follow on instagram.

Track list:

Ray Charles - Georgia on My Mind

The Waymores - Greener Pastures

Christopher Seymore, South Texas Tweek - I Can Get off on You

Amanda Donald - Get in Line

Marty Bush - Turn Down the Lights

Nora Kelly Band - Rodeo Clown

David Quinn - Down Home

Zach Bryan, Sierra Ferrell - Holy Roller

Turnpike Troubadours - A Cat in the Rain

Sarah Jane Scouten - Wanderlust

Nick Shoulders - All Bad

The Two Tracks - In the Morning

Jim Lauderdale, The Po' Ramblin' Boys, Del McCoury - Long And Lonesome Letting Go

Sentimental Family Band - Never Love Again

Willy Tea Taylor, The Fellership - National Treasure

David Garnham and the Reasons to Live, Gleny Rae Virus - Long Way Round

Nathan Mongol Wells - Honest Drinking

Lola Kirke, First Aid Kit - All My Exes Live in L.A.

Abbigale Dawn - Ex Boyfriend Blues

Christian Parker, Earl Poole Ball, JayDee Maness - You Ain't Going Nowhere

Miss Georgia Peach - Silver Threads and Gold Needles

Vince Gill, Paul Franklin - Walkin' Show and Thinkin' About Her

Madeline Hawthorne - Neon Wasteland

The Howdies - Buddies

Katie Mae & the Lubrication - Hard Livin'

The Deslondes, Sam Doores - Howl at the Moon

Brit Taylor - If You Don't Wanna Love Me

Izaak Opatz - Shampoo

Ruby Oland - Life Without Love

Lucas Hudgins - All in My Head

S.G. Goodman - Space And Time

Woody Woodworth & The Piners - When Them Dogwoods Bloom

Zara Alexandra - Greasy Spoon

Televisionaries, Les Greene - Airbound

Megg Farrell - Damaged Goods

Willie Nelson - I Never Cared for You

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes- Chapter 25

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd, Otis Graves, Lex Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Lillian walked into the dining room while carrying the main dish for tonight’s dinner: roasted chicken. She was surprised to see Lena walking around the dining room table like a mad woman adjusting silverware and chairs while Sam and Ruby watched over to the side shaking their heads. 

Lillian stopped near Sam and Ruby and said softly, “How long has she been like this?”

Sam said, “She has been like this for about an hour now. Ruby and I offered to help, but Lena swatted our hands away from the table.”

Ruby pouted and said, “She said that everything has to be set right on the table. I’ve helped set the table before.” Ruby turned to her grandmother and said, “I thought you told me I was a good helper with the table last time.”

Lillian smiled while kissing Ruby on the forehead. 

“You’re a wonderful helper.”

Ruby looked at Lena pouting and asked, “Then why doesn’t Auntie Lena let me help set the table?”

Lillian stared at Lena for a second fusing over the silverware on the table. 

Lillian turned back to Ruby, smiled and said, “Sometimes, people get a little carried away when they are trying to impress someone that they are in love with.”

Ruby looked over at Lena curiously and asked, “Falling in love does that to you?”

Sam chuckled and said, “Sometimes it does.”

Ruby muttered, “Well, I hope that love never does this to me.”

Sam chuckled.

Lillian smirked and said, “I don’t know why you are laughing. You should know better than anyone that love can make us do crazy things. I remember a certain someone having us sit through them trying on thirty outfits before their first date with Lucas Johnson during their senior year of high school.”

Ruby looked up at her mom curiously and asked, “Why did you do all of that?”

Lillian chuckled and said, “She wanted to have the perfect outfit. Even though the majority of the stuff she showed us was a variation of the same look.”

Sam groaned and said, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that again especially after Lucas turned out being such a prick.”

Lillian kissed Sam on the forehead and said, “I am just trying to let Ruby know it is normal to have feelings like this is all.”

Sam pouted and said, “At my expense.”

Lillian smirked and said, “Well, think of it this way, you will have a chance to do the same thing when Ruby has a son or a daughter.”

Sam sighed and said, “I don’t even want to think that far now. Ruby is still my sweet little baby.”

Ruby groaned and said, “I’m not a baby anymore.”

Sam smiled and kissed Ruby’s forehead and said, “You will always be my baby.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. Lillian cackled as she placed the chicken on the table. She then went over to Lena who was still fidgeting with the silverware.

Lillian placed a hand on Lena’s shoulder and said, “You know that we got everything covered. The food is ready and the table is set.”

Lena looked at her pouting and said, “Everything needs to be perfect tonight. There is so much left to do and to add to that, Kara is bringing an extra person.”

Lillian chuckled and pulled Lena in for a hug and said, “You worry too much. We were aware of the extra person coming tonight so there is enough food for everyone. The only thing that is left to do is to place all the food on the table.”

Lena looked at the table and said, “Maybe, I could turn that fork just a little to the left.”

As Lena went down to reach for the fork, Lillian grabbed her hand and started to pull Lena away from the table to the living room. 

“Hey!” said Lena said loudly.

Lillian guided them over to the coach and pulled them down. 

She turned to Lena with a soft smile and said, “You need to calm down.”

Lena looked at Lillian dumbfounded and exclaimed, “Calm down!”  Lena said louder, “Calm down! How can you say that to me? I am meeting her family for the first time. Her only blood relative absolutely hates me with a passion.”

Lena looked down while wringing her hands tighter and asked, “What if the others hate me too?”

Lillian pulled Lena in for a hug and Lena leaned into the embrace. Lillian rubbed soothing circles on Lena’s back. 

“I think this has to do with one person in particular.”

Lena sniffed and asked, “Why do you say that?”

Read the rest on AO3

[thenasoneshots]

FandomMas 2023 Day 1 - James Potter

Fandom: Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts

Prompt: She hates Christmas Day with her parents as all they ever talk about is how she is single and childless. Except this year they’ve invited the neighbours. (I don’t remember where I got the prompt from)

Timing: Marauders’ Era (6th Year)

Reader's Relations: None

Reader’s House: Not Applicable

Other Notes: The reader is a pure-blood. You’ve also never interacted with James or his friends before.

---------------------------

“(Y/n), you need to find yourself a boyfriend! You’re 16, by that age I was already engaged to your father!”

I inwardly sighed, as I’d had to put up with this since I turned thirteen, whenever my mother got an opportunity, which was very often whilst I was at home, she would always chastise me about not having a boyfriend or anything, wanting me to get married the minute I finished school

“Mum, please! I don’t want to rush into a marriage! I don’t care what age you and Father got married at, I’ll get married at my own pace and when I do it will NOT be for status or whatever, it will be for love,” I replied, as she continued to tie my dress around my waist.

“(Y/n)! You do not speak to me like that. You need to carry on our family, you are our only daughter, so it is my responsibility to make sure you marry a nice, pure-blooded man so you carry on the (L/n) legacy!”

I sighed, knowing not to retort back and let her finish the final details of my outfit before she spoke again, “Now, I know the Potters have a boy about your age, I’ve invited them over for lunch, I expect you to get to know James and well, if all goes well, we should hear wedding bells once you’ve finished school!”

“Yes, Mother,” I spoke in defeat, knowing there was no way I would get out of it as I heard the doorbell ring. My mother jolted up and ran downstairs, leaving me to give my Norwegian Forest cat, who surprisingly, my mother had let me name Lucas (Let me know if you get the reference), a pat on the head before following her downstairs. When I got to the bottom, I spotted my mother talking to who I guessed were the Potters in the living room.

“(Y/n)! There you are. Come here now, I need to introduce you!”

I sighed and walked over, putting on a fake smile as my mother introduced me, however, that smile became real when I locked eyes with James. My mother hadn’t told me he was so handsome and I hadn’t realised I was staring until he was waving a hand in front of my face, “Hello? Miss (L/n)?”

I snapped from my daze, “Sorry, I was just thinking about something, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Same to you.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you show James around? It will give you two time to get to know each other.”

I nodded, “Yes, Mother,” before turning back to James, “Shall we?” he smiled at me and we walked out of the room. I showed him around where things were inside the hose before walking outside where we sat down on a bench in the garden.

“I hate this. My mother’s trying to marry me off. Not that you’re not a great guy or anything, it's just I want to marry for love, but my mother won’t see that. Like is it too much to ask?”

“I get what you mean, (Y/n). Honestly, I’m being forced into this too but my parents have told me I should marry for love.”

“What are you doing here then? Is my mother blackmailing your parents or something?”

“No! To be honest I wanted to get a chance to know you. I’ve heard your name floating around at Hogwarts, and I wanted to get to know you.”

“R-really?”

James nodded before responding, “Really, and now that I’ve seen you in person, well... I’m not sure how to say this..”

“Just be blunt, James. Like a plaster, just rip it off and tell me what you want to say.”

He nodded, muttering an ‘okay’ before returning to his normal speaking voice, “I think I might be in love with you.”

I gasped, not expecting him to say that and smiled, “Wow, that’s not what I was expecting you to say, but to be honest, I think I’ll need more time to sort out my feelings. I know my mother is going to force us to get married anyway, but I want to let my love life happen in its own time.”

“Fair enough.”

“But, can you do me one favour until I sort this out? Please don’t mention to anyone that my mother is going to force us to get married.”

---------------------------------

“James, can I talk to you please?” I asked, managing to find him and his friends in a hallway shortly after breakfast one day.

“Oh hello there gorgeous.”

I rolled my eyes at Sirius’ comment and looked James in the eye biting my lip. He soon nodded and I smiled, grabbing his arm and dragging him off away from his friends. Once we were alone, I stopped and caught my breath, “So, about what is inevitable for us in the future…” He nodded and I took a deep breath, “I’m not too fussed about it anymore,” I continued, leaning up and kissing him, “Merry Christmas, James.” I giggled seeing his bright red face and stood away before turning around and going to walk off, leaving him in a state of shock, but I felt a hand around my wrist and James pulled me back into him, “I take it that means you’ve ‘figured out your feelings’ then?” I nodded, “Yeah, I love you, James.”

“That makes me happy to hear.”

-----------------------------------END OF ONESHOT

Day 1 done!