#some hobbit has some fucked up shit in their house again

[tinytveit]

sdv ridgeside village is massive on letting me fuck an elf as a hobbit

anyways here’s the fall look

[autistook]

Got inspired to do some headcanons by an ask I got from @kylobith

What would the Hobbits be like on a night out at the club?

I'm basing this on the club I usually go to, which has a dance floor, karaoke room, smoking room etc.

Frodo:

- Takes a shot immediately and dances his way to the dance floor in an instant.

- He probably tries to only drink a few stronger ones and then beer, but when Merry and Pippin suggest he gets tequila, he fucking gets tequila.

- And that makes him dance even harder.

- After a while Frodo forgets to drink water and Sam has to make sure he drinks that too.

- Is normally quite specific about music, but with the drinks in his system he probably asks the DJ for Sweet Caroline or some shit...

- ... and sings that song whole-heartedly and reaches for Sam's hands and embrace during it.

- Gets a ride home, but before he gets there he gets the munchies so fast food it is.

- Probably makes himself tea when he gets home and then he goes to bed, forgetting the tea in the cup overnight because he got eepy.

Sam:

- Drinks and is relatably drunk all night, but considering he is the mother of the group and especially wants to take care of Mister Frodo, he is "sober" drunk, so behaves the same as he normally would, but sways on his feet and doesn't hear properly.

- Drinks beer and maybe one cute drink with a swirly straw.

- Keeps bringing water to everyone. Everyone accepts it but Pippin who is too busy running off somewhere again.

- Is on drink watch duty - and takes it so seriously he keeps his hands on top of the drinks at all times when left alone at the table so no one will spike them.

- Goes to have some sort of a deep conversation over a smoke with Merry at some point, which almost snaps him out of his sober-like drunkness because he almost lets go of his caretaker side.

- Pippin convinces him to sing a karaoke song with him so he does that while standing awkwardly...

- ... though he is smiling a bit and is blushing, so secretly he loves it.

- Probably is the designated Hobbit to listen to other drunk people overshare, because he is at the table alone quite a few times because he is watching the drinks.

- When everyone is home safe and he steps inside the house: the drinks fucking hit him.

- Clumsy because of the drunkness. Talks to himself a lot. Tries to cook something on a pan but can't hold anything in his hands...

- ... so he gives up and goes to bed.

- Changes to pajamas though!

- Probably goes to check on Frodo in the morning after and brings him painkillers and water to bed. Frodo of course still in the same clothes from the previous night and if he was to wear eyeliner, it would be all over his face. Sam looks fresh as fuck tho.

Pippin:

- Immediately takes shots with Merry and grabs a pint in both hands.

- Plays beer pong with strangers when Merry goes to smoke some pipe-weed.

- Makes a new best friend for a few hours from one of the dudes who is playing.

- Can't make up his mind if he wants to do karaoke or dance, so he does both all night, which causes everyone to lose him a few times during the night.

- Doesn't drink the water he is offered...

- ...except once when Frodo gave him a shotglass of water and he thought it was vodka.

- Sings along every karaoke song even if he is not the one singing.

- Most of the karaoke songs he sings with Merry or his new bestie of the night.

- Has a very deep conversation with some girl at some point. She's struggling with a chaotic relationship problem and Pippin tries to help, but probably gives her the worst advice.

- Most of his drinks after the few ales and shots are either tequila shots or some colorful cocktails in quirky glasses, with those swirly straws and little umbrellas.

- Eventually is the one person from the group that ends up throwing up. Spends like an hour in the bathroom doing that, but then he springs up on his feet and goes back to dancing.

- At that point absolutely no one has any idea where the fuck he is.

- ... so the DJ plays some bs song (probably their quilty pleasure song, like something by One Direction or Taylor Swift) Merry requested that he knows will drag Pippin out to look for him to dance with.

- It works, so Merry finally drags him home.

- Of course stopping for some heavy junk food, where Pippin cries for like a minute over feeling guilty about throwing up and everyone having to take care of him...

- ...which he soon forgets because his McFlurry arrived or something.

- Throws up at home a few more times before climbs under covers and is immediately knocked out.

- When he wakes up, he realizes he is not even home. He was so drunk Merry just made him sleep on his couch. There's a bucket next to his head just in case.

- Despite his severe hangover: wants to do it again.

- "I'm never drinking again. Although, what are we doing next weekend?"

Merry:

- Spends most of his night singing with Pippin and having deep conversations with stranger.

- Probably plays beer bong too and wins.

- He spots a very pretty girl and goes flirting: he gets shot down at least the few first times with a few girls.

- Then he hits it off with someone and Pippin drags him away to get more drinks.

- Merry does dance with the girl at least once.

- Makes his way to Frodo often and dances with him while Pippin is talking to that random dude he bonded with.

- Is the one who eventually talks everyone into drinking more than they intended. He worships the chaos of it.

- Is high simultaneously. 100%. Goes smoking 2 or 3 times in an hour. The smoke breaks are supposed to be short, but he always ends up engaging in some deep conversations.

- The smoking room is the place he does get to kiss that one girl after they talked some deep nonsense.

- It seems like she might be interested in leaving with him (he sure is) but Sam announces to him that Pippin is basically dying, so he of course goes to take care of him.

- Gets Pippin up the stairs and they probably do some stupid drunken parkour shit on their way home, because Merry gets the drunk zoomies from the fresh hair and it rubs off on Pippin.

- Keeps giggling at nothing in the fast food place.

- When he gets home with Pippin, he helps Pippin clean off his face and brush his teeth, before making the couch into a bed for him (though sloppily and kind of mumbles while he does it: he is still a bit annoyed by Pippin and from never being able to see the pretty girl again).

- In the morning has the worst headache out of them all somehow, and his hair looks like a birds nest.

- Groans and goes back to sleep.

These are my own headcanons I thought of after I woke up from my own night out lol.

[cherrychapstick54]

Amnesia Was Her Name

Chapter Seven: How to Sex—Totally Not a Suspicious Name

Title from “Amnesia Was Her Name” by Lemon Demon

Synopsis: Tommy has the great idea of making a diary to help with his memory! Shenanigans ensue.

This chapter was written by @genderlessbleach and edited by me.

Tommy looks at the book he just made. Thinking to himself, he tries to figure out what would be the least suspicious name for a memory book. Then it comes to him: How to Sex. No one will think it’s a diary, they’d just think it is one of the stupid things Tommy writes as a joke.

A sudden scream from that girl Amnesia makes Tommy jump, losing his train of thought. “TOMMY, you can’t just leave like that man. We’re here to have fun!” Tommy turns to look at her, noticing the tall dude from earlier is standing behind her. “We’re also bringing Ranboo with us cause they seem pretty chill!” Amnesia flashes him a smile from under her mask. Ranboo just shakes from the acknowledgement, which the blond finds a bit comedic.

“Alright, fine. Just give me a minute, bitch!” Tommy quickly writes down ‘How to Sex’ on the cover of his notebook before tossing it down on his bed. “Where are we goin’ and don’t you dare fucking fly me into the clouds again, dickhead!” Drista only laughs at the comment.

“I won’t! I promise!” Amnesia keeps laughing, appearing to have a complete mood swing from that morning; giving tough love and harsh slaps with reality to lighthearted and energetic. To be completely honest, Tommy much prefers this attitude over the one from earlier that day. He feels as if he can actually enjoy her presence and have fun with her despite their rocky start.

The group of teens exit Tommy’s home to look for a bit of chaos to create. With a quick movement, Drista scoops up the other two and flies them up, the action causing Ranboo to hold onto her with all his might to not be dropped. Tommy on the other hand is scoping out where a fun place to blow shit up would be.

Amnesia speaks to the taller, “What if we blew up that ugly ass hobbit hole over there?”

“I think it’s kinda cute.”

“I think it belongs to my brother's mushroom boyfriend, so we should blow it up.” The bluntness of it all causes the group of teens to burst out laughing. They’re going to have fun–Tommy can finally have fun. “So first things first.” Drista drops the two mortals down in front of the hobbit hole. “You two need some fire!” She drops down some flint and steel to the two boys.

Tommy cackles from the power he suddenly has, “YEAHHHHHH TIME TO BURN SOME SHIT DOWN, BOYS!” Amnesia laughs with him while Ranboo just stands confused and slightly concerned. Tommy pulls the taller into the hobbit hole, raiding the house for any good items while Amnesia places TNT outside of the house. The dual tone boy, though hesitant at first, seems to get into it soon enough, laughing and messing around with Tommy. With Ranboo taking the first step to light the fire, the duo quickly set the house ablaze.

Drista shouts a warning to the two inside, “RUN! SHE’S ABOUT TO BLOW!” The duo inside come sprinting out of the house, adrenaline running through their blood and excitement radiating off of them. The three find themselves in a fit of laughter as the TNT can be heard going off behind them.

In the moment Tommy feels happiness, and he feels safe. Maybe he doesn’t need his real family; this is enough for him. Finally, a wash of peace runs over Tommy’s body and he falls to the ground with a smile, Drista and Ranboo quick to follow his actions. The group of teens lay laughing in a pile on the ground, moon rising in the distance. Nothing can replace the feeling. Tommy feels at home. As the laughter dies down, Tommy feels an arm wrap around him. It’s Amnesia’s. She scoops the two up and flies them upwards into the air. Unlike the past times, Tommy stays quiet, seeming to relax into the chaos, while Ranboo on the other hand is screaming from the suddenness of the whole situation.

Tommy finds himself laughing with Amnesia, resting his head on her shoulder, laughing quietly instead of his usual obnoxious laugh. Drista flies the two taller boys around, finding a simple flower field for the three of them to relax in after the chaos that they had created. Drista sets the two down and pulls a blanket out of her bag, laying it out on the ground for the three to sit on.

The moment is simple–peaceful some would say. The three teens lay out under the moon in a field of flowers, a cool breeze washing over their bodies as they speak to one another in a hushed tone. Tommy can’t have asked for anything more at the moment. He has everything he can ever need.

With the moon reaching higher in the night sky, Tommy feels himself dozing off. His arms coil around Ranboo’s body, bringing the taller closer for warmth, while Amnesia floats idly above them, whispering facts about the stars to Ranboo.

Ranboo places his hand in Tommy’s mess of hair, petting him subconsciously. The devil horned boy isn’t one to regularly fall into a scene like this, but it feels more than natural to Ranboo; It felt right. The taller hums softly as they listen to Drista’s facts about the stars–all of it sounds strange but who is he to correct a goddess. Drista seems to speak fondly of the stars, calling them her home. She tells Ranboo that each star is a different reality–each similar but never the same. She tells him the further you look, the more changes you can find.

Drista slowly finds herself getting more and more attached to the mortals–the way Ranboo just listens to her peacefully and how Tommy can match her chaotic energy to a T. It’s hard for her to not get attached to them. She simply wants to help out her fellow goddess but now she’s just as fond of them as Mumza is. A sigh escapes her mouth. It’s all so perfect, maybe too perfect.

It’s not perfect at all, she reminds herself. The two mortals she finds herself attached to have memory loss. They won’t remember her if she doesn’t stay close to them. The mortals aren’t perfect and neither is she, but they make her happy, and that’s all that matters.

- Divider credits to @issysh3ll -

[ymaohoh]

'Rule 63' - Hellcheer Fic - Oneshot

Superstar athlete Chris Cunningham is struggling with nightmares and visions and goes to freaky Ellie Munson for relief. Rule 63' - Gender Swap - Hellcheer AU Basically a gender swap version of 'Chrissy Lives' Characters are kind of OC but not really. I've tried to keep them as character-based as possible but there had to be minor tweaks to make it realistic in the 80's. POV switches between characters.

Ellie is 19. Chris is 18. Really enjoyed writing this one. Let me know what you think and if I should do another chapter. Also on Archive. Word count: 9,322 Rated: No ratings, some swearing.

Setting: Hawkins High School

Date: 1986, baby

Introducing: 

Ellie Munson, lead guitarist in amateur rock band Corroded Coffin, repeating her senior year again because she has crap grades and a rebellious streak. Her interests? Dungeons and Dragons (she runs the Hellfire Club as D&M and rules with an iron fist), listening to heavy metal at full volume with the car windows rolled down, and reading (and getting high to) The Hobbit, Dune, and other fantasy books which let her drift away. She was the school pariah because she didn’t play by the same rules - ‘a freak’ - and people just didn’t like her very much. The other students (and most of Hawkins) hissed she was a ‘bad influence’ - a junkie slut, trailer trash, juvenile delinquent - who would no doubt end up just like her shitty mom. Oh they were just waiting for the day she stumbled and proved them right. 

Ellie wasn’t so sure - she was mean and scary, yes, and she played up the freak role at school because it made certain dickheads keep their distance - but she knew she wanted more out of life. This year she was getting her diploma and getting the fuck out of Hawkins and away from these small-minded hicks. They could literally kiss her ass. 

Introducing: 

Chris Cunningam, captain of the basketball team and hot-shot athlete with college scholarships coming out of his ears. His interests? Sports, tutoring (his grades were outstanding), and being a perfect all-round good guy who everybody simply fawned over. Guys were lining up to be his buddy and girls wanted to date him. You’d think he’d be this obnoxious douchebag but Chris stood out from his peers - he was kind, patient, always looking out for the little guy. Everyone knew Chris had the perfect future lined up for the taking (a stable high-earning job within his dad’s law firm, a big house with the white picket fence, a beautiful wife and children). 

Chris wasn’t so sure - people didn’t want to see the real him - the guy who hated parties and crowds, who couldn’t do anything without his dad breathing down his fucking neck, who was so petrified of letting people down and not being perfect that it gave him panic attacks. Nobody asked him what he wanted to do after school and sometimes (just sometimes) he would let himself imagine a future away from Hawkins and all the stress. 

Enter stage left: 

Ellie was known to be the school dealer. She even had a system; people would drop a note in her locker with a time and place and she would meet them, easy peasy. Her rules? Cash only, not on a night when she had Hellfire, and absolutely no questions. She didn’t give a shit about why they wanted the weed or who they wanted to impress, she just wanted to get in and out with zero complications. Selling weed was not something she wanted to do forever but it meant she could save up for if - no, when - she graduated. 

She couldn’t exactly get a normal job packing groceries because the whole town thought she was a good-for-nothing junkie who would steal from the tills rather than do an honest day’s labour, and she was too young to work in the factory with her aunt. 

Some of the money went towards helping her aunt with the bills. Wendy took her in when she was still a kid and her parents split in the middle of the night without even a goodbye or see you later. Wendy was a confirmed spinster and worked a lot so Ellie often had the trailer to herself, but they made it work. She was nice, sturdy, calm; a good balance to Ellie’s puzzling inner chaos. 

(she tried explaining to Mr Kelley about her crazy brain and how sometimes it wouldn’t let her focus but he just told her to lay off the pot, which to be fair wasn’t terrible advice overall). 

So when Ellie arrived at school (late as usual) and found a neatly folded note in her locker she didn’t really give it much thought until she saw the initials at the bottom - C.C.

No fucking way…

But it had to be him because who else would write please and thank you in a drug note then the resident goody-two-shoes Chris Cunningham? 

She only had one class with Chris - English (her worst and seemingly his best) - and he was different from the other douchebag jocks. He never once picked on her or called her a freak and even told the cheerleader Patty to lay off when she tried stealing her notes. He’d smiled and given her a little nod as to say ‘it’s cool’ and for a second he made her believe it. That was the thing about Chris: he was nice, he was kind, and he never told a lie. 

(it was no wonder she struggled in that class, but she would rather die than tell judgy ol’ Mr O'Donnell about it).

Chris had a killer smile too - though his front tooth was slightly crooked (which somehow made it even better?) - and the bluest eyes she ever saw. He was also ripped. He must work out a lot because his arms looked like they could easily toss you over his strong shoulder or rip a phonebook in half. Not that she’d noticed, obviously, but the scribbles in the bathroom stalls went on and on about his muscles, his shoe size, his (perfect) butt. To her absolutely shame (and she would never ever admit it even under torture) she once imagined in class how nice it might be to be held by those arms. Ugh. 

Sure she was an outcast and liked traditionally unfeminine pursuits, but she was still a girl. She had hormones and feelings and all the crazy stuff that made teenage years super fun. 

(and yeah Chris had once cheered for her during a stupid talent contest in middle school but that was years ago and he was only being nice). 

It would never happen, this wasn’t The Breakfast Club (Wendy loved these kinds of films - she would drag Ellie to the video rental place every weekend for a new one. Ellie liked Robin who worked there (he was pretty outlandish too) but former ‘It Girl’ Stacey was intimidating as fuck. She had no idea how the two were friends). 

Chris was a solid 9 whereas she was a 3 on a good day if she stopped doing weird shit to her hair. He might be Emilio Estevez but she was no Ally Sheedy. 

Even if she wanted to suddenly change her clothes and slap on some make up (seriously, what was that ending?), those big strong arms were busy hugging his actual girlfriend Jackie Carver (and carrying her books, opening doors for her, probably opening goddamn jars too). Jackie Carver was head cheerleader and the darling of the school. She was the perfect match for Chris in every conceivable way; church going, wholesome, sickeningly rich. Apart from the occasional teasing, the jocks tended to leave Ellie alone for the most part but the cheerleaders were another matter entirely. They loathed her - and to be fair, she hated them right back. Jackie was the ringleader and Ellie simply loved getting a rise out of her.

(this wasn’t hard to do; she only had to mention how she was joining a Satan-worshipping cult and little Miss Carver would hiss like an alley cat). 

So yeah, in conclusion Chris was a good guy and the last person she would ever expect to ask for drugs. It almost made her want to break rule number three. 

His note asked to meet at the abandoned picnic bench during lunch period which meant she had to wolf down her sandwich and get a move on. She told her little sheepies with a wink she had private business to attend to and left before they could give her any sass (Dusty was seriously showing too much attitude for her own good). Her bandmates only nodded, well used to her side-hustle. 

As she walked through the trees she had a fleeting thought that this could be a prank or a set up. Were the cheerleaders waiting to jump her and steal her stash or tip another slushie down the front of her shirt? (that was a seriously shit day). Would Queen Bee Jackie be waiting instead of her prized King? 

Ellie was too scrawny to be a fighter, but her dad had done at least one useful thing in teaching her how to throw a punch (when he still gave a shit) and she was scrappy. She could also read people and situations well. She kinda’ had to. As a girl dealer in 80’s Indiana it was crucial she could make speedy decisions on whether best to fight or fly. 

She decided to run at the first sight of a green and orange pom pom. 

And maybe a tiny part of her was quite interested to meet Cunningham alone in the woods. 

**

Chris was going insane…or maybe not insane exactly, but he was definitely on the edge of some kind of nervous breakdown. His head was pounding and he was so damn tired from all the restless nights. He hadn’t felt this bad since freshman year when he was trying to beef up enough to make the team (months of eating nothing but carbs and protein shakes/constant calorie counting/early morning runs that made him want to puke his guts out). 

He needed some kind of relief. 

Painkillers did nothing and he wouldn’t go near his mom’s valium in case she noticed (though the odds of that were…yeah). He saw Mr Kelley at their weekly therapy sessions but it would sound so dumb if he started bringing up the strange ticking noises and dreams that seemed more like hallucinations. It was too dangerous anyway; he'd probably tell his coach who would then blab to his parents. Then he’d really get it in the neck. His parents hated anything out of the ordinary. He could already hear his dad calling him a punk, a loser, and an embarrassment. 

“Chrissss,” he’d say, dragging it out like he always did when he was mad. “I’ve worked hard to give you and your sister everything. Now you want to wreck it all by crying about feelings like some girl? Get a grip, son. A real man knows who he is and what he wants out of life. Don’t let me down.”

In the end it was a teammate who suggested Ellie Munson. He told him about the note system too. He warned Chris that Ellie was creepy and to be careful, even if she did sell decent pot. She wasn’t the kind of girl you wanted to know.

He was anxious as hell as he walked to the meeting spot, and more so when he got there and saw…no one. 

Damn. Had she not seen the note? Or maybe she just didn’t want to sell to him? He didn’t really know Ellie personally but being a high-school athlete came hand in hand with a certain…reputation. Perhaps she thought he was just another cliche dumb jock looking to make trouble?

(he knew the guys gave her a hard time and tried to intervene when he saw it. He hated bullies - they reminded him of his crappy dad - but yeah, he could probably do more if he was honest with himself. It was hard when Ellie basically gave the finger to anyone who even approached her though). 

With a sigh, he decided to head back. This was all probably a bad idea anyway; he’d never even touched a joint before and if his parents or coach or Jackie found out they’d seriously kill him. His perfectly curated image would be in shatters. 

And Jackie could be really cold when she wanted to be. It always made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. 

But then Chris heard that creepy ticking noise again and he flinched back. 

Then a snap.

He whirled around and came face to face with Ellie Munson, who held her hands up. “Woah…hey…sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”

Chris nodded but he kept back. The ticking had stopped but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t start back up again. God, he really was going insane. He’d end up like Jack Nicholson in that creepy film with the white straight jackets at this rate. 

Ellie sat down at the table and placed a black lunchbox next to her. “There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.”

Chris looked at her properly. Ellie Munson was known about school to be wild and weird and most people avoided her. She looked weird in her black ripped jeans, leather jacket, and faded denim vest covered with band patches and pins. Even her leather boots were scuffed and way too big to belong to her. Her hair was wild too; an explosion of messy brown curls that fell to her waist with a knotted bandana (failing) to keep it away from her face. She didn’t wear makeup like Jackie but he noticed three heavy silver rings on her fingers (again, way too big for her). Her ears were heavily pierced and…yeah…one even had a safety pin through it. 

He knew she liked to kick up a fuss in the cafeteria and make loud bizarre speeches about inequality and feminist rights, she never ever attended class (when she did she preferred to sleep in the back row), and could swear like a biker. She also protected a flock of freshmen like a mother hen. So yeah weird but she wore it well. She wore it in a way that proclaimed proudly she didn’t give a shit what other people thought about her, which was…actually pretty cool. 

Ellie’s boldness and shere cheek should by all rights freak him out, but it didn’t. Instead he felt a strange twist of jealousy in his chest; he’d love to borrow that nerve and tell the people around him to leave him the hell alone. 

So when she told him they were safe, he found himself believing her (even though she was like half his height and he definitely bench pressed heavier weights than her). Strange.   

“So, how does this work exactly?” he asked, sitting down too. 

“Oh, just like any other old sale, except, uh, cash only, and, uh, for obvious reasons, no receipts. I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

Another snap. He shuddered and rubbed his temples. 

“Hey, uh, we don't need to do this. Just give me the word and I'll walk away. Okay?”

She was looking at him with something like real concern flashing in her brown eyes. He felt oddly touched. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that.  

“It's not that. I don't want you to go. It's just…” he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?” 

He half expected her to leg it but to his surprise Ellie just grinned. Up close, he noticed a dimple in her left cheek which was pretty cute. 

“Um, you know, just... on a daily basis. I feel like I'm losing my mind right now doing a drսg deal with Chris Cunningham, the King of Hawkins High.” 

Chris could feel his cheeks burning - he hated being called that. That was all Jackie’s doing. She had big plans that they were going to be crowned at prom and then probably marry right out of school and…ugh. He was about to say so when Ellie went on…

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... hung out.”

“I'm sorry. I…”

“That's okay.”

Before he could say another word, Ellie launched herself back off the table and he sprang to his feet to…help? Catch her? Check she was ok? But Ellie was grinning again and he found it so infectious that he smiled right back. 

“I wouldn't remember me either, Chris. Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?” she laughed. There were brown and gold leaves in her hair but instead of fixing it (like Jackie might’ve) she shook it out and seemed totally unfazed. “You don't remember me?”

“I’m sorry!” Chris laughed. 

“Middle school, talent show? You were doing the basketball thing. You know, the... dribbling… thing you do. It was pretty cool, actually. And I... I was with my band.” 

Then it hit him. “Corroded Coffin! Yes, of course. With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You're a freak.”

Ellie was beaming and Chris sat back down on the edge of the table to watch her. If anyone else called him a freak he might’ve been offended but Ellie said it like it was a badge of honour. Her dimple was back. 

A vague memory of a tiny girl with patched dungarees holding a guitar suddenly came back to him. She’d been waiting to go out on stage with her friends, terrified and clearly falling to bits with nerves. Chris had smiled and wished her luck, and afterwards whooped and clapped so hard he thought his hands might fall off. His dad had ripped him to shreds for his own performance - but her little crooked smile and twinkling eyes stayed with him. “No, you just... You looked so... Different?” 

“Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was shorter and I had braces, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

She tugged at the neck of her shirt (with Hellfire written across the front) and he spotted a line of black ink just underneath her collarbone. He knew some girls got tattoos - not any of the girls he knew, of course - and Ellie implied she had more than one. He felt himself blush again when he realised he wanted to see more. Which would obviously be really inappropriate and creepy. 

He was very aware of the fact they were all alone and he was significantly bigger than her, even if Ellie didn’t seem to notice. He dragged his gaze back to the safety of her face. 

Thankfully his voice didn’t betray any of what he was feeling. “You played guitar, right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do. You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. We... We actually get a crowd of about five drunks. It's not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right?”

He was surprised she was allowed to go to The Hideout at all with drunk guys - let alone to play in a band. Maybe her boyfriend went along to keep her safe? Chris didn’t even know her that well and he wanted to. “You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like.” 

“Mean and scary?” 

That’s what Jackie or his friends would say. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too.” 

He actually snorted at that. “Me?”

Ellie laughed and when she laughed she did it properly - lips wide, eyes bright, her head tossed back. It was so incredibly animated and warm and real that it made Chris want to huddle closer to her flame. She perched on the seat beside him and opened up the lunchbox. 

“Terrifying. Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

Oh right. Drugs. He’d almost forgotten. He’d enjoyed speaking to her so much (and watching her - she was more interesting to look at than anyone else he knew) that for a brief wonderful moment the ticking and spiders and nightmares vanished. 

But they came back back now and he felt himself physically recoil. 

“Do you have anything maybe stronger?”

He didn’t think anything shocked Ellie Munson, but that sure did. 

**

Right. So perfect wholesome Chris Cunningham was sitting in her crappy van and they were driving back to her trailer. 

He said he wanted something harder than weed and Ellie said yes but obviously didn’t keep that kind of thing at school. She offered to meet him the following day (same time, same place, even though it was a Saturday) but Chris had looked so serious when he asked if he could please possibly get it tonight after the game and her club meeting. She’d been too taken back by the intensity in his eyes to say anything other than yes, honestly. So they met later that evening by her van and he actually opened the door for her. Ellie couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that kind of thing for her before. 

(she’d had a short-lived daliance with a boy from her art class and he’d brought her roses and candy, but the next day he was sucking face with a girl from their photography class who put out, so it wasn’t really what you’d call meaningful).

She thanked him and hopped up into the driver’s seat (damn it, she was too short for anything elegant) and Chris slid in beside her. He was polite enough not to mention the many takeout coffee cups, the spare and broken tapes cluttering the floor, or the very used mattress in the back (used for when she needed to transport band equipment). He said his own car was in the shop right now and he’d caught a lift this morning. 

“Seriously, I’m not trying to make a move or anything…I just need something to help, you know?”

It hadn’t even crossed her simple puny mind that Chris might have any ulterior motive to coming back to her trailer. Maybe some guys might but that didn’t seem to be his style. 

“Am I your piece of rough, Cunningham? Not worried one of your team mates might see you slumming it with me?” Ellie said, only part joking. 

Chris blushed and rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like a total prude. Aren’t you worried about your badass image being tanked by me?” 

She liked it when he blushed. Luckily with his pale skin and colouring, he had no chance at masking it. 

“Glad you brought it up actually, can you duck down ‘til we get out the gates? One look at that letterman jacket and my scary reputation is kaput,” she smirked. She turned on the radio and heavy metal music blasted out from the speakers. She thought he might ask to turn it down and was pleasantly surprised when he said he didn’t mind it. “Sorry, I don’t have any Cyndi Lauper or Billy Joel…”

“Get lost,” he laughed. “Do not start quoting Uptown Girl (Boy) at me, Munson.” 

It was almost too easy to make Chris laugh. She’d enjoyed messing with him back in the woods and wondered what other buttons she could press. What got under his skin? 

There must be something, obviously, if he was asking her for ketamine. 

You’ve gotta’ cool it, she told herself. Yeah he’s super cute and remembered the band but you weren’t really joking…he would absolutely be slumming it with you. He’s not even the same species AND he has a girlfriend who looks like she could be a runner up for Miss America. 

Inwardly sighing at her lot in life, she bravely asked, “So how was the game? Did you - uh - throw some balls into laundry baskets?”

Chris looked sideways at her, obviously surprised that she cared so little for something the entire school (including the faculty) seemed crazy about, but then started chuckling again. “Yeah, we…we won actually. It was a championship game.”

“Oh…good. Glad it went well for you.” Ellie wound down the window and lit a cigarette as they neared a stop sign. She offered him one and he took it after only a split-second hesitation. 

“Thanks. We practised really hard and I’m proud of how well we all came together. It’s one of the things I like most about playing sports, you know? The team work,” he added. “Ever been to a rally?”

She’d never thought about sports like that before, it always just seemed like one big popularity contest. His enthusiasm kind of humbled her a bit. “Uh - no, not high on my ‘to do’ list, I’m afraid. I’d be too worried about one of the cheerleaders drop-kicking me honestly.” 

“Oh really? Are they…what? They mean to you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Cunningham?”

He didn’t look like he was bullshitting her. He looked genuinely confused…“Sorry, I don’t really know…”

She thought about all the times the cheerleaders stole her clothes (and dumped them in the toilets) after gym class, how they tried to trip her up in the halls, how they filled her locker with shaving foam so all her notes were useless, how they stuck gum in her hair and Wendy had no choice but to cut it out leaving her with a tuft that stuck out for ages. 

Yeah, she could see how Miss Carver would want to keep that all hush hush from her lovely boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I mean it’s not your problem so you don’t need to apologise, but yeah they make my life pretty miserable on a daily basis. They pick on the freshmen too and that really gets under my skin,” she added. “Your buddies on the team can be real jerks too. It’s why I stopped dealing at those jock parties. Those meatheads can call you a freak and ignore you at school, but after a couple of beers they get pretty shitty if you catch my drift.” 

“They’ve messed with you?”

“Tried to. I just avoid it all now.”

Chris seemed honestly shocked at that and his hand twitched like he wanted to…what? Comfort her? She felt a bit bad - he obviously had no idea about what kind of people he chose to hang around. “That’s seriously not on. Not to you or the kids,” he muttered. “Does…Jackie…?”

Ellie actually snorted. “No way, Chris. She’s your girlfriend and there’s no way I’m airing out her dirty laundry. These lips will remain sealed.” 

“But…I could try talking to her?” 

Maybe Chris speaking to Jackie on her behalf might help for a week or two (Jackie would be sure to cry a little and pout and say no honey, she’s really stupid, she must be mistaken) but then Jackie would be livid. She’d think she was deliberately trying to split them up or something. 

The little chaos demon in her brain thought fuck it, ask him anyway. 

“Nah, it would only make it worse. Just…drop it, okay? Thanks but I can look after myself for a few more months. After that? I’m getting out of this craphole and I’ll never see those shitheads again.” 

She could tell he didn’t want to drop it but also didn’t want to push her either. She appreciated that - she hated it when people tried shoving in and telling her what to do. Was it the same for Chris? 

So instead Chris sighed and ran a hand through his short hair as he finished up his cigarette. She glanced at his blond hair - it had hints of red if you looked closely, so it was more of a strawberry blonde. It was buzzed short at the back and sides, but the longer hair on top looked thick and soft. He was still wearing his game clothes and they did little to hide the thick muscular expanse of his chest and arms. As Dio played on the radio, she wondered what Chris might look like in rockstar jeans and a leather jacket like the guys at The Hideout wore. 

Probably just as great as he did in his usual preppy acid-wash jeans and sneakers. 

She tried to imagine herself in the kind of clothes Jackie typically wore (very Molly Ringwald) with her hair brushed and professionally styled, bright eyeshadow smudged around her eyes, eating fucking sushi and cheerleading. Shit, it would be like watching a toad kiss a prince but without the Disney ending. It just wasn’t her. 

Ellie kept her eyes forward on the road like a very very good driver. 

Chris nobley changed the subject. “So what’s this Hellfire about? It’s not actually a satanic cult, right?”

Ellie huffed out a laugh. “I wish. It’s just a club where we play Dungeons and Dragons. It’s like a board game but we use our imaginations. The others built their own characters but I’m Dungeon Master - D&M - so I kind of plan it all out. There’s about seven of us right now, and we just finished a pretty sick campaign called the Curse of Vecna…” she trailed off. “Whoops, sorry. I can kind of get carried away with this stuff.”

“No way, it sounds interesting!” She glanced at him to make sure (again) he wasn’t making fun of her, but yeah, he did look interested. “I’ve heard about it - it’s got elves and goblins and stuff, right? Like Tolkien?”

“Holy crap. You’ve read Tolkien? Don’t tease me now - the Chris Cunningham has a secret nerdy side?”

Chris grinned. “My uncle lent me the books when I was still a kid. Totally loved them. I always wanted to be like Aragorn with a sword and armour…well, right up until my dad saw and tossed them out in the trash. Didn’t line up with his grand plan for me.” 

“Plan?”

“Yeah…my parents are pretty strict. They - uh - have my whole life planned out for me, you know?”

Ellie didn’t know. Her parents didn’t even have plans for their own lives, let alone a kid they never wanted. She knew she wanted to leave Hawkins but after that? Life was fuzzy. 

“Well...if you ever want to sit in on a game and watch, I can probably convince the girls you aren’t a spy. You’d be more than welcome. It’s usually on the night you have practice though.” 

“Well… maybe one day I can flake? I’d like to watch you. Play, I mean. I’d like to watch you play,” he coughed. “It’s really cool how you look after those freshmen - they seem to really look up to you - makes me think you might be a softie underneath, Ellie.” 

Ellie fucking cackled. “No no no. That’s too much now. First you want to buy drugs, then you offer to ditch sports to watch my nerdy game, and now telling me I’m a softie when you’re basically a walking teddy bear? Are you even a jock? I thought all you meatheads lived and breathed school spirit, right? My dumb perception of high school is being massacred.”

But actually there did seem to be a hell of a lot more to Chris then she could’ve ever guessed. Hidden layers, and all that. 

“Maybe I’m more than a cliche. Right, Munson?” 

And he gave her such a deliberate look that she sniggered and shook her head. Point very well made. She noticed a faint scattering of freckles on his nose and cheeks that really suited him. 

“Well… you got me there.”

She turned off the main road towards Forest Hills and now Metallica blasted out of the speakers. They were quiet for a little bit but it wasn’t awkward. 

“Seriously, thank you for this,” Chris suddenly said. “I feel…more normal…more awake…than I have for weeks.” 

Ellie smiled, and this time it was friendly and yeah soft. Damn it. 

“This is such a weird fucking day.”

**

Ellie pulled up outside her trailer and Chris slid out somewhat nervously. He’d never been to Forest Hills trailer park before and wasn’t sure what to expect. His parents and Jackie made it out to be some cesspit of evil - “a place filled with drunks, degenerates, single parents” - but all he saw was the soft glow of lights as families ate their dinners and settled down for the evening. Little Ellie Munson switched off the ignition, shouldered her backpack (heavy with D&D journals), and waved for him to follow as she found her door key. She told him this was her castle and he found himself smiling, once again at ease. 

(he almost offered to carry her bag but her lunchtime rants indicated she might see this as patronising. He’d felt like a total idiot earlier when he held the door open and she’d carefully arched an eyebrow.)

Jackie always expected these things of him and got royally pissed if he forgot. It would be nice to offer for once without it being demanded. 

Ellie told him her aunt Wendy was working a night shift so they’d have some privacy. 

He blushed, eyeing the neighbouring trailer quickly to see if anyone was spying through the curtains (his mom would be). “What about your folks?” he found himself asking, following her inside. 

“Oh they split ages ago. Pops found himself a new shiny family, and I think mom’s still in jail? She could be dead in a ditch somewhere, for all I know. They don’t exactly keep in touch,” she said, shrugging. “Want something to drink? Beer, coffee, water?”

She spoke like none of it mattered but her shrug was a little too casual. 

“Uh…water would be great.” 

Inside the trailer wasn’t what he’d expected at all. It was small, sure, but clean and neat. It was also really homely looking. Plenty of bright pictures on the walls, dollar store knick knacks decorating the sides, squashy cushions on the couch. Her aunt must really like teapots because there was a whole wall dedicated to her collection. He compared it to his own sterile home which looked more like a showroom. 

Ellie dropped her bag on the couch and toed off her big boots in the middle of the room. Chris did the same only he lined his sneakers up neatly by the door (a habit). She passed him a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“You never worry about being home alone so much? Is it…safe?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright here and I can always run over to Mr Mayfield’s if there’s an emergency. He’s over in the trailer opposite,” she added, fiddling with the radio so music started playing. “Besides, when I’m on my lonesome I can play whatever music I want. Helps me relax, you know? And concentrate.” 

“Seriously? That blows my brain. I need, like, total silence to read or study. I’d love some time on my own but my schedule’s real tight. There’s always something to do, or someone wanting something.” He caught her looking at him. “Yeah I know, poor little rich boy. I sound like an asshole.” 

“Everyone’s got issues,” she shrugged. She gestured for him to take a seat and tucked some of her wild hair back behind her ear. He wondered if it felt as springy as it looked. “Make yourself at home, okay? I’ll go get the Special K.” 

She went back to what was presumably her bedroom and Chris took a sip of the water. The music coming out of the radio wasn’t Ellie’s usual madness, maybe it was a station her aunt liked? 

Tick. 

Christ, really? His head had been blissfully quiet ever since meeting with Ellie. Her noise and bustle, her liveliness, had been like a balm to his nerves. 

He found himself bouncing his leg. He tried to take a deep breath. 

Tick. 

“How long will it take to work?” he called, trying to distract himself. 

“Depends on if you…snort it or not. If you snort it…then yeah, it’ll work pretty quick,” she said when she came back. She was biting her bottom lip and holding a bag of something that looked like powder. “Look, I’m going to break one of my infamous rules right now, but I have to ask…have you ever done anything like this before? Kind of worried you’re going to spiral and get into some serious trouble. You can do it here if you want? Then at least I’ll be around to keep an eye out. My aunt won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” 

Again it kind of sounded like Ellie actually cared (or at least she didn’t want him to die in a K-Hole). Her offer relieved some of the tension in his shoulders and he nodded gratefully. 

“She won’t mind you having a boy here?”

Ellie actually laughed out loud at that and even snorted. His mouth twitched into a grin. She joined him on the couch - though left a deliberate space in between. 

She’d shrugged off her jacket by now and wore only the black and white Hellfire shirt and jeans. He could see another tattoo winding along her elbow that looked like bats. He wondered if she did them herself or went to the one parlour in town (run by an ex-biker who looked gruff and shady). Didn’t her aunt mind? 

But then Ellie was nineteen, a year older than him. She was legally allowed to lift her shirt and have whoever she wanted ink her skin. 

“She’d never believe me,” Ellie chuckled, dragging his thoughts back into the room. “I don’t have guys ‘round here ever.” 

“No way…really?” Chris raised his eyebrows. “No boyfriend or anything?” 

He pictured some tall shaggy haired guy with biker boots and tattoos. He’d have to be in a band (maybe they practised together?) and wear the same style of silver jewellery she did (now he thought about it - those big rings probably were his). He’d smoke pot and read Dune and tell people loudly to fuck off if they bothered him. A guy who could go to The Hideout every week and watch her play, and cheer and hangbang like her own weird cheerleader. The kind of guy, in short, that Chris definitely was not. 

He suddenly thought about himself standing beside Ellie with his arm tight around her shoulders. She was so small that he could easily tuck her against his side, and then he would run his fingers through that wild mane of hair. Jackie rarely smiled when they were together (or at all unless there was an audience) but he could easily imagine kissing Ellie’s grin. 

Not that she would ever let him. She seemed to like him okay, but he would never be the guy in biker boots. She probably had posters pinned up in her bedroom of rockstars and ‘bad boy’ movie stars. Girls like her went for the Judd Nelson’s - not the Emilio Estevez’. 

“Boyfriend? Me? Yeah right, Cunningham. I’m the last girl at school any guy would willingly hang out with, except maybe as a bet.” 

“That’s crazy.” The words left his mouth before he realised it and he blushed, but didn’t want to take them back either. “I mean…yeah, you’re a little different, but you’re cute as hell. Your hair is incredible and that smile? Hell, it’s beautiful.” 

Her eyes widened and he noticed how warm and brown they were. She was blushing too and it somehow suited her. He felt a little twitch of - what, pride? - that he could make Ellie react like that. 

(this was the girl who flipped off (judgy) Mr O'Donnell when he tried making her read her essay out loud, tied her own bra to the flagpole during morning assembly, who got cool tattoos from scary bikers, and stood on lunchroom tables to declare loudly liberal feminism was the only way to go and Reagan could suck it.) 

“You’re crazy. I’m the freak, remember? I know people don’t like me, they don’t ever pick me, but it’s okay. I’m used to it.” 

She was so brutally honest that it nearly knocked the air from his lungs, but then honesty seemed to be what you got with Ellie Munson. She might keep some things close to her chest, but there was no bullshit, no lying, no flattery. It was so fucking refreshing. 

“I don’t think you’re a freak, Ellie, but even if you were…that wouldn’t be so bad, right? You make it look good.”

She tucked a little smile into her shoulder. “Thanks, Cunningham…you’re one of the nice ones.”

“It’s Chris, and you’re welcome.”

Another song came on the radio - some kind of old country song that reinforced this was definitely something her aunt listened to. It reminded him of the stuff his grandad used to put on.

“And you’re in a band, right? That’s awesome.”

“Don’t tell me you're a secret fan of Joan Jett,” she laughed, somewhat shakily. “Jess from the band keeps suggesting we buzz our hair.” 

“Debbie Harry actually. Had a poster up on my wall before my mom ripped it down and called me a pervert.” 

“That is perverted behaviour,” Ellie joked. “Glad she did. Rock music is a gateway to drugs and sex and all kinds of debauchery. Look what happened to me. Can’t have you succumbing to the dark side now.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty scary. I take back all my earlier words. You keep all that Sith crap away from me. I’m all Jedi.”

He saw her silently mouth the word ‘Jedi’. 

“...after Aragorn I kind of loved playing as Luke Skywalker in the backyard with a rolled up newspaper as my lightsaber,” he winced. “Please keep that tidbit extremely super secret, Munson, and yes, I was a kid.” 

He never spoke to Jackie like this, but with Ellie it was too effortlessly easy to slip into this playful persona. She was so honest that it kind of dragged it out of him too. 

“God, think I’m in love,” Ellie said after a few seconds and threw her head back against the couch cushion. She placed a hand above her heart dramatically. “My whole life has led to this pivotal moment.”

Tick. 

Chris couldn’t help but flinch again when he heard the ticking noise and this time Ellie stared at him, sitting up. 

“Okay…so I’m definitely breaking rule three again…what’s going on with you, Chris? Why do you need drugs this bad? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Honestly?” Ellie nodded. “I think I’m going crazy. Been having these nightmares and seeing stuff for weeks now and I’m losing it. It started as just weird noises and ticking and nightmares, then I saw spiders crawling over Mr Kelley’s face in his office. I freaked out, Ellie. I ran away because I thought I’d be safer with people around, you know? But then that happened…and I still keep seeing them. Doesn’t matter if I’m alone or in the middle of class or sitting right here with you. I keep hearing the ticking noise - it’s like it's chasing me.” 

Chris sat forwards and ran his hands through his hair, willing himself to get a grip. 

“And the nightmares?” Ellie asked quietly. “What happens in those?” 

“It’s usually my parents. Mom and dad. Mom will be strung out on Valium in bed with her mouth stitched up, or laying in a puddle of her own sick by the sink. Sometimes it’s my little sister lying there instead. It happens every time and I can’t do anything to help her. My dad…he fucking stalks me like a ghoul. He used to treat me bad, Ellie, punishing me with food when he thought I was looking too thin or too fat. He used to smack me about until I got taller than him, so then he started picking on me…which goddamn hurt more. My dad - the ghoul in the nightmares - is always telling me I’m useless, I’m an embarrassment, saying I’m letting everyone down. It’s like…all the stuff I’m already feeling, you know? But having it thrown in my face every night…it’s exhausting.” 

His words came out in a rush. Ellie had drawn closer and placed a small tentative hand on his knee. Instead of feeling embarrassed by the action - or pitied - it made him feel safe and seen. 

“How can you possibly let anyone down? You’re, like, the most perfect guy ever,” she murmured. “Can’t you talk to anyone about this? You know, Jackie or a friend?” 

“They aren’t interested in crazy, Ellie. If something doesn’t fit right in their perfect little world then they don’t wanna know. Trust me. Jackie doesn’t do…feelings...unless they’re her own. I can’t talk to her about any of this real stuff. And my friends? They’d just tell me to man up, buy some weed, and get over it before the next big game.” 

Ellie looked like she wanted to say some very choice words but was trying hard to put a leash on it. 

“What about a teacher or your coach? Mr Kelley? I know I’m the last person to willingly talk to authority figures and as a rule they all suck, but this sounds serious, it’s really hurting you. And your parents…they…well sorry, but they sound like total assholes. Especially your dad.”

Chris found himself laughing at that. His dad was one of those untouchable pricks who used money and bullying to gain respect and unfortunately it worked every time. No one ever challenged him or called him an asshole like that. “He is an asshole.” God, even saying it was awesome, even if a little scary. 

“You could…” Ellie was biting her lip again. “I don’t know…leave? You’re eighteen, right? Do you have any family you could stay with?”

“If I left I’d be saying goodbye to scholarships, college, there’s no way I’d graduate. My father would do his best to wreck my whole life if I don’t fall in line,” he responded bitterly. “And besides…I can’t leave my sister alone with them. As long as he’s using me as his punching bag, he can’t turn his attention to her. Can you imagine the kind of crap they’d say to her?”

Chris sighed. He placed his hand on top of Ellie’s on his knee and the coolness of her fingers (and rings) helped pull him back down to the world. 

“I’m sorry to just lay this on you, Ellie. Seriously. You’ve been amazing helping me out tonight, and I’m just messing everything up like usual. You don’t need to hear about all this crazy shit and my nightmares. You’re a good listener, you know that?”

“It’s been said,” she smiled weakly. 

“Do you think I'm losing it?”

Anyone else might’ve said, yeah you sound crazy Chris, but Ellie simply shrugged. She squeezed his hand. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re going through it right now and bottling it up, but you aren’t insane. You’ve got a right to feel your feelings. And I…I don’t mind listening. If it helps. You’ve made my night a little less lonely.” 

Chris looked over at her and felt like he could drown in the warmth and kindness in her eyes. It wasn’t something he ever expected to find there, but he found himself drinking it in. Ellie too seemed to be searching for something in his expression, her eyes flickering over his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

It would be all too easy to tug her hand and close the distance. To nestle his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the strawberry shampoo she used. 

**

But Ellie suddenly stood up and she clapped her hands. “Okay, you know what? No Ket. That’s now removed from the table. I’m going to roll us a joint using the good stuff I save for myself  - and we’re going to get high and talk about it all, okay? Really lay it on me, Chriss, no bullshit or pretending. Then I’ll make some grilled cheese sandwiches and we’ll feast and come up with a plan of defence, right?” 

Chris looked surprised but as she spoke a grin settled back across his lips. He really did have one killer smile. 

“You’re on, weird girl.” 

Before she went back to her room for the weed, she found herself hesitating for a moment. She tapped her fingers against the doorway. “Sorry for calling you a meathead earlier and being a dick about the game. You said about it meaning more to you than just scoring goals - and how you enjoy the feeling of working together to achieve something. Way you describe it, it kind of reminded me of Hellfire a little bit and why I like it so much. Guess we both like being part of something…” 

See? Genuine nice comment. Chris seemed to think so because he flushed bright pink. Obviously her sneaky brain had to ruin it by adding, “...we’re big damn losers, am I right?”

She hurried back to her bedroom and stashed the ket securely beneath her bed. Instead she scooped out a tin from the desk drawer where she kept the high quality stuff she bought directly from Reefer Rita. There’d be enough here for maybe three joints and she was betting Chris would only need one to feel buzzed (even though he was big, it was obviously still his first time - she’d have to walk him through it so he didn’t hack his lungs out). 

She glanced at her mirror on the way out and adjusted her shirt. She thought about dragging a brush through her hair but weirdly Chris actually seemed to like it wild? 

She had to pinch her arm. The Chris Cunningham was in her lounge and they were going to get high together. Chris Cunningham (who it turns out is a secret nerd and thinks she’s cute) actually/incredibly/unbelievably seemed to like her enough to confess about his messed up family and nightmares. 

(Nobody had ever called her beautiful before. Not even her dad or mom or aunt). 

She should probably go and buy a lottery ticket, all things considered. 

She steadied herself before she went back through. She felt like a Mage on a quest to solve the riddle of the Cunningham Curse. Sure, she didn’t know how to solve spooky haunting nightmares and banish abusive parents (she assumed kidnapping was out of the question) but she could listen and offer what little support she could muster. 

And Chris was dealing with this every single day because of bullshit toxic masculinity and societal pressure which forced the poor guy to feel he had to shoulder it alone. 

Well that could get fucked. 

“Here we go…As promised, first class pot…Chris?”

Chris was standing very still in the middle of the lounge and as she stepped closer she could see his face had turned a ghostly white. She peered up and saw that his eyes were twitching. 

“Hey Chris?” Ellie gently tugged on the green sleeve of his letterman jacket. “Come on, you’re scaring me.”

But he wasn’t listening. God, was he having a seizure? A stroke? She needed to call an ambulance. The lights in the trailer began to flash and she felt the uneasy uncurling of terror in her stomach. 

“Chris, please wake up! I don’t like this, please! Say something!” 

When he began to rise up in the air, Ellie screamed and fell back on the floor. “Fucking hell!” 

This was no seizure or fucking stroke. Something really bad was happening. 

Chris began floating higher and higher. His whole face was blank - completely void of anything. Then he shot up and his whole body slammed against the trailer ceiling.

“CHRIS!” 

Ellie scrambled back and as she did so, she knocked the radio off the side and the volume rose. Some stupid country song began blaring out at full volume. 

Ellie was crying, screaming, gasping for breath. This was like something out of a horror film, only much much worse. She couldn’t just switch this off or hide under a blanket. 

She nearly threw up when Chris’ left arm suddenly snapped like it was no more than a twig. 

“No!” she sobbed. “Chris! Stop this please. I’m scared, please! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!” 

(remember that well-honed ability to pick her fights? To choose to fight or fly?)

She clambered to her feet somehow and stepped up onto the coffee table, reaching up as high as she could to grab at him. She managed to wrap her hands around the lining of his jacket and she pulled with all her might, but he didn’t shift an inch. It was like playing tug-of-war against a mountain. 

“Chris!” she screamed. “Please! Stop this!”

And then - miraculously - the lights stopped flashing. 

And Chris awoke with a shuddering gasp, and fell right on top of her. 

Ellie’s legs buckled beneath her as they tumbled down onto the table with a loud crash. She landed right under him, catching the full brunt of his weight, and tried to ignore the searing pain that came from her ankle as she heaved herself up into a sitting position. 

She groaned as she managed to roll Chris over onto his back. His head was cradled in her lap. 

She pressed her fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, but her hands were shaking too badly to feel anything. 

“Chris,” she whispered. “Please say something. Please don’t be dead. Can you hear me?” 

She was crying in earnest now and the tears disappeared into his hair. What the fuck was going to happen if he was…Oh my god. 

Chris then suddenly sat up with a cry of terror of his own, making her scream all over again. 

He looked fucking insane, rabid, horrified. His chest was heaving like he’d completed a mile long sprint and every line of his body was tense. His big blue eyes were wide and terrified as he looked around them, surveying the broken table and the radio which was still blaring out music. He seemed to need a moment to remember where he was. Then his eyes came to rest on her and he let out the biggest shuddering breath. He took in the tears racing down her cheeks, the flinch of pain when her ankle throbbed, the mix of raw fear and sweet relief that was written across her features like a goddamn neon sign. 

He was so close that she could feel his entire body shaking. 

And then he was holding her in a hug that was so tight she felt she might explode, but still she twisted her arms up around his shoulders and hung on just as tightly. She could feel him trembling as he cried and tried to convey (in stutteringly split phrases) what the hell just happened, but she couldn’t hear above the ringing in her ears. 

Eventually his grip loosened and she gasped for air. 

This couldn’t be brushed aside as a dream, a nightmare - he was clutching his broken arm to his chest. 

“Chris…you’re really alright?” she mumbled. She was still hanging onto his jacket in case he tried floating away again. “Help me up, need to ring an ambulance…or police…it’s not safe. Hold your arm steady, it’ll need looking at...I think my fucking ankle’s broken.” 

She could hear the faint noise of banging coming from nearby (was it the door?) but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Chris. 

Chris put a trembling hand to her cheek and wiped away some of the fresh tears with his thumb. 

“Ellie…” he croaked. His voice sounded rough like he’d been screaming too. “Ellie…this is going to sound mad…but something just tried to kill me, and I think you saved me.” 

**

A/N: Psss it's definitely The Party at the door, ready to spice it all up.

Quick notes:

Yeah Ellie is soft for Chris and he feels safe with her.

Had to tone back some of Ellie's habits because it wouldn't be realistic or safe for her to do some of the things guy-Eddie gets up to (though really it's not safe for him either).

I changed it so the cheerleaders are the worst. That's not a commentary on 'girls being bitchy' honestly, it's just the guy jocks wouldn't physically act on their resentment with a girl but the cheerleaders can and would.

Chrissy has shown she's a nice person and would feel protective of Eddie in danger - same thing for Chris only as a beefcake guy he's able to express this more literally (as in Ellie going to the Hideout).

Yeah the prototype for Ellie's fictional boyfriend is basically Eddie and vice versa.

Did I want them to kiss? Fuck yes, but maybe if I ever do a part 2. Didn't seem to flow here and really Chris wouldn't make that move. He'd be worried about taking advantage and is keenly aware how it looks that he's alone with Ellie in the trailer. It's about the implication, guys.

Girl Eddie would be scrawny and small, I think. Chrissy is super fit and strong because of her cheerleading so it makes sense Chris would be the same.

Do I like the Breakfast Club? Yeah, a bit, but that ending was crap.

I will not do a 'She's all That' with Ellie. Fuck no.

If I do a part 2 then forgive me for the shit switching of names. Honestly - what would Nancy even be?

[marblesarelost]

I just went through my book wish list and put it on Bookshop.

(I'm not buying anything TODAY because I have to move in ....FML SEVEN WEEKS?... and I am not stupid enough to buy MORE BOOKS just to have to pack them up and move them. Not to mention some of them are on backorder or preorder and I don't want them going to the wrong address because I am moving in seven weeks.)

BEFORE adding a bunch more?

Um

It was over $300.

AFTER adding a bunch more?

I don't know how much it is, and I'm honestly afraid to add it all up.

WELP

Just added all to my cart.

YEAH

It's under a grand!

.....barely....

But a lot of these books are REALLY IMPORTANT -- Jared Sexton, Heather Cox Richardson, stuff about how we really are facing a civil war coming, stuff about how shitty it is to be poor in America (not that I don't KNOW that shit),and then there's the books I just fucking WANT: the Wolf Hall books by Hilary Mantel, the Shigeru Mizuki Japanese history mangas, new copies of the Paks original trilogy and the expansion of the world as well (I didn't like those as much as the original Paks books, but I liked them well enough, and also Sergeant Stammel -- gods bless him), Gaiman's Norse Mythology and American Gods and Stardust and a new copy of the Graveyard Book, and the Chronicles of Prydain which I really do need to read, and then there's the James Clavell** books that I legit HAVE to have and the Tolkien, again, I have to have them because somehow I do not have copies of the big Four and the Silmarillion and yes I AM getting the illustrated Hobbit and the illustrated Silmarillion separately because ILLUSTRATIONS BY TOLKIEN, DAMMIT

(** Yes, I'm aware that Clavell's work is very problematic. That being said, my mother once told me, when learning that at the time I was reading Shogun and really liking it, that Shogun was the only book she ever saw my father, my actual father, read.

Now I know for a fact, solid and cold, that Daddy liked Stephen King. He read a lot of King after he and my mom divorced. He's who turned me into a Constant Reader -- okay given that I read Pet Sematary when I was eight at my grandma's house -- by giving me The Eyes of the Dragon when I was young; by handing me IT and Christine and The Shining and The Stand when I was older.

All that being said, there is something very special to me about reading and enjoying and loving books that my father read and loved. It makes me feel that we are still sharing, still reaching out to one another, beyond the Boundaries of Death's Country.

Not to mention, King Rat is....horribly problematic. Horribly so. Yet there is something in it that reaches to me. Here is greed, here is horror, here is the worst that man can be to man. Yet here is generosity, here is quiet stoic heroism, here is mercy, here is hope.

Clavell's work is problematic, yes. Lots of work is. But there is something to be learned from it. Do I think every work has something to be learned from? Not really. Some is just shit, and that's the honest truth. But some, we can learn something from.)

and FML I still need to find the complete Keltiad -- the Aeron books and the Arthur books, Blackmantle was a horrible revenge fantasy -- (And just for the record, I KNEW her, I KNEW Patricia, she invited me to her HOUSE if I were ever in NYC, she named me her War-Badger, I counted her as a FRIEND, I MOURNED her when she passed, and I STILL think Blackmantle was a HORRIBLE revenge fantasy) and the complete Belgariad along with Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress --

....FUCK.

(If you're wondering why I didn't mention the Malloreon, it's because I read the first book and hated it)

...I'd love to have the complete Foxfire series...

...guess I'm gonna have to hit up AbeBooks or something too...

RIP the cash I was gonna set aside just for me I guess....

[daffodil--lament]

caoimhin 2022 reading wrap up

- Gideon the Ninth & Harrow the Ninth - good. made me insane. read them basically cover to cover. awesome

- The Hobbit - 10/10 it's the fuckin hobbit man. this was of course a re-read because I'm cultured

- The Great Gatsby - cool. enjoyed. also a re-read. so true fitzgerald materialism is bad. I love gay people

- Dogsbody - so good. dwj's ability to balance the themes of her stories always gets me. I need to read more of her books

- Howl's Moving Castle - I've read it more than 10 times in the last two years I love it so much 10000/10

- A Study In Charlotte - I love me some sherlock holmes. I love autism. I love people who are fucked up. enjoyed it as much as I did when I was 13

- Castle In The Air - hmc sequel. gets better every re-read. dwj poses an earth shattering question: what if all your favorite characters got even stupider? (this is about prince justin. he's the worst I love him)

- A River Runs Through It - destroyed me. holy shit. I finished that last page and had to go lay down for awhile. I was thinking about it for days. I am haunted by waters. god. good lord almighty.

- House of Many Ways - MASSIVE tone shift from a river runs through it. Charmain is a bitch and I like her so much. twinkle sucks. 9 million out of ten I love you Sophie Pendragon

- Howl's Moving Castle - by the time you finish homw you have to start hmc again to distract yourself from the series ending. howl and sophie were holding one another's hands and smiling and smiling quite unable to stop. I'm gonna pass out

- Hamlet - fuckin classic duh. I read this for the first time in seventh grade because I'm better than everyone. there's a reason it's one of the most widely known pieces of literature ever written

- Pride and Prejudice - also better every time I read it. Jane Austen is a genius. I wish I had an Elizabeth to my Darcy

- The Lightning Thief - percy jackson my beloved

- Sea of Monsters - retweet

- Storm Front - harry dresden is a bitch

- Fool Moon - harry dresden gets grievously injured, still manages to kill people

- Grave Peril - michael carpenter my beloved

- Summer Knight - karrin murphy btw (she is not enjoying herself)

- Death Masks - I love small children who carry great magical power

- Persuasion - Jane Austen I love you. I played minecraft prolifically while I listened to this book. it was so good. genuinely amazing. love love love

- Loki: Agent of Asgard - I always start this and I'm like "ha ha funny comic book" and then by the end I'm completely decimated. the art is so cool and I love watching it change throughout the run. conceptually the whole story and premise are so amazing. I can't really explain the extent of how good it is and do it justice. it's just awesome

- Pride and Prejudice - I forgot that I read this twice but if it's on the list you'd better be damn sure it happened

- The Raven Boys - I love pretentious glasses-wearing teenage boys (me irl)

- Patriot Games - the Harrison Ford movie is better but it was chill ig.

- Dream Thieves - fuck shit up little man

- Blue Lily, Lily Blue - popular among welsh voices in my head

- Murder on the Orient Express - AMAZING. I love hercule poirot so much. although I sort of knew the general ending, having seen, you know, literally any TV show made in the last 100 years, I was really surprised and pleased with the way the whole novel unfolded itself. awesome

- The Raven King - honestly awesome ending to the series. thoroughly enjoyed

- Rebecca - books that changed me at age 8. not sure why my mother chose to give me this book at that age but I'm forever glad she did. Rebecca is dead the entire story and she haunts it more than any ghost could. Spectacular. something about Mrs de Winter's name never being told to us or said out loud, but Rebecca's name being EVERYWHERE.... fantastic

- Blood Rites - I LOVE YOU THOMAS

- Never Let Me Go - I understand why this was award winning and I think I will never read it again

- Howl's Moving Castle - what better way to end my year. howl said I think we ought to live happily ever after and sophie thought he meant it. also I got the fancy illustrated hardcover version for Christmas and I am so happy. I will not be lending it to anyone ever. it's my baby.

[collectivefandomstuff]

[Caught by Penguin's goons and tied to chairs in a warehouse, waiting for the cavalry]

Red Robin: I'm gonna say it. Shakespeare is overrated.

Red Hood: Ok, first of all: how dare you. Second of all: how DARE you?

Red Robin: He's boring and Romeo and Juliet is ridiculous bullshit.

Red Hood: Counterpoint. Romeo and Juliet was always meant to be satire and if you read it with the knowledge that teenagers are idiots it's actually a fantastic, mean commentary on teenage romance.

Red Robin: The only way I'll accept that argument is if he was purposefully making fun of a particular pair of teenagers that he knew in real life and "Romeo and Juliet" was really Shakespeare being petty and mocking his cousin or something.

Red Hood: You- yeah that would be great actually.

Red Robin: Right? Still, my original point stands: Shakespeare is given way too much credit. So he invented some words. big whoop.

Red Hood: He basically invented the English language!

Red Robin: He better have considering the lenght of some of the monologues.

Red Hood: Look, thanks to Shakespeare we get to study dick jokes in school. There are so many dick jokes! How can you NOT like him?

Red Robin: One would think you'd be over Dick jokes, growing up in our family.

Red Hood: Well where do you think I get most of my material??

Red Robin: I'll concede that Macbeth is okay, but the rest of his tragedies? I mean, Hamlet? More like Ham-let-me-out-of-this-AP-English-class

Red Hood: One, that was sub-par and I expect better from you. Two; are you seriously going after HAMLET?

Red Robin: [snorts] Of COURSE you would enjoy a play about a death-obsessed dude with daddy issues and a thirst for revenge.

Red Hood: OK, POINT! But I'm still HELLA insulted. And Shakespeare is a master at exploring the human condition!

Red Robin: [rolls his eyes]

Red Hood: [to one of the Henchmen guarding them] Hey, you! With the ski-mask and bad enough judgement to wear sneakers to a gunfight!

Henchman: Uh... yea?

Red Hood: Back me up here. Shakespeare is a cultural icon.

Henchman: well, uh, he always kinda bored me in school

Red Robin: A-HA!

Red Hood: Oh shut up. Since when are Penguin's goons the go-to authority on literature

Red Robin: Since Shakespeare gets way too much credit because of fanboys like you.

Red Hood: Says the man who CRIED about the Hobbit movies. Several times.

Red Robin: THEY RUINED IT. EXCELLENT PRECEDENCE, EXCELLENT SOURCE MATERIAL AND THEY-

Boss Henchman: [barges in] what the fuck is going on in here? Who's making so much fucking noise?

Red Hood: [inclines his head towards Red Robin] Red Robin here thinks Shakespeare is overrated.

Boss Henchman: [immidiately involved] YOU'RE INSULTING THE BARD? HE BASICALLY INVENTED THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

Red Hood: [mimicking Red Robin] A-HA!

Red Robin: Look, if you want to stan an author who made a comedy about gaslighting and subjugating a woman through marriage be my guest but I'm different

Boss Henchman: That's a bullshit argument

Henchman #2 -a woman: Nah, he's got a legit point.

Red Robin: Thank you!

Red Hood: One bad play doesn't mean you can diminish the impact of his work as a whole

Red Robin: Oh CAN'T I?

Boss Henchman: I will not stand here and see the Bard slighted in my own house- warehouse- whatever!

-----20 minutes later-----

Boss Henchman: -HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Red Robin: SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING A SEXIST APOLOGIST WOULD SAY

Red Hood: THAT'S NOT EVEN-

-----40 minutes later-----

Boss Henchman: SHAKESPEARE SHOWED ME THAT WORDS CAN BE BEAUTIFUL

Henchman #1: I WENT TO AN ALL BOYS SCHOOL!! THEY MADE ME PLAY JULIET DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH SHIT I GOT ON THE STREETS

-----70 minutes later-----

Red Hood: YOUNG LEONARDO DI CAPRIO WAS A LEGIT SNACC AND IF YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE YOU'RE LYING

Red Robin: SO WATCH GANGS OF NEW YORK AT LEAST THAT'S INTERESTING

-----90 minutes later-----

Red Robin: THE FUCKING BARREL SCENE!! WHAT EVEN WAS THAT?!!

-----2 hours later-----

Red Hood: HE TAUGHT HISTORY TO THE MASSES!

Red Robin: HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO SLEEP IN CLASS WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT IS WHAT HE DID

-----2,5 hours later-----

Boss Henchman: [pointing a gun at Henchman #1] HOW DARE YOU CALL OTHELLO A LI'L BITCH-

Henchman #2: [Hits Boss Henchman over the head with a chair] JUSTICE FOR KATHERINA

Red Robin: [Cheering] GET HIM, SUSAN

-----4 hours later-----

------The Batcave------

Bruce: [tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose] Ok, tell me again how you managed to escape.

Tim and Jason: [glancing at each other]

Tim: First off, I'd like to state for the record that we had everything perfectly under control.

[jungwonenthusiast]

Friends Don't Lie Ch. 1

Pairing: Jungwon x reader

Warnings for this chapter: underage drinking and smoking, mention of porn

Chapter word count: 2k

Based on: Stranger Things

Sunoo

“Can we play please?” Sunoo pleads, tugging at Sunghoon's sleeve.

“No, you’re not a baby.” he rolls his eyes.

“Who said d and d was for babies?” Sunoo scoffs and plops onto the couch.

“Everyone,” Jay says while trying on one of Jungwon’s jackets. “Even Niki doesn’t play anymore.”

Sunoo groans. “You guys are boring.”

“I’ll play with you.” Jake ruffles his hair.

“We need at least four people.” he whines.

“You guys play, we’re gonna go to the drive-in.” Niki says.

“And do what? Makeout with people and get gonorrhea?”

“That’s not how STDs work, dumbass.” Jay laughs.

“Whatever,” Sunoo rolls his eyes again.

“It’ll be fun man, just come with us.” Jungwon grabs at his arm. “Plus you like scary movies.”

“It’s Videorome, isn’t that movie about porn?” Sunoo frowns.

“Just come,” Jungwon begs. “I’m gonna be the only one without a chick, you have to keep me company.”

“I’m just gonna go home, Heeseung hyung will be mad if I stay out.” Sunoo stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“You gonna bike home?” Jake asks while spritzing cologne on his neck.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Sunoo says while making his way up the basement stairs.

“See you.”

“Bye Ddeonu.” Jay teases.

Sunoo walks by Mrs. Yang who’s cleaning up the kitchen.

“Bye Mrs. Yang, thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” he smiles at her.

“Of course Sunoo-shi, are you going home now? I thought you boys were going to the drive in?”

He shrugs. “Yeah but I figured I should go home so that my hyung doesn’t worry.”

She smiles and pats his head. “Such a sweet boy, tell him I said hi alright?”

He nods and heads out the door.

It’s pitch black out and the air feels dry.

Sunoo mounts his bike and starts to peddle home, but something moving in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jungwon

Jungwon feels bad. He hates feeling this way. It’s eating at his conscience.

“Why are you guys so mean to Sunoo?” Jungwon says while steering his Camaro.

“What are you talking about?” Jay lights a cigarette and Jungwon slaps it out of his hand.

“Don’t smoke in here, my mom will kill me.” he scolds.

Jay rolls his eyes and throws it out the window.

“It’s just our way of showing affection.” Sunghoon says with Niki sitting on his lap. The car doesn’t have nearly enough seats to fit all of them, but they make it work.

“You need help if you think that’s what affection is.” Jungwon grumbles.

Jake shakes his shoulder. “Loosen up Jungwon, he knows we love him.”

“I hope.” he replies.

Jungwon always wishes he could be nicer to Sunoo. Everytime he sees him he thinks, I should compliment Sunoo or tell him that I appreciate him. But he never does and he hates himself for it.

Jungwon parks in their usual spot.

“I’m gonna go try to con us some beers.” Jay says before hopping out the car.

“Don’t get arrested.” Sunghoon jokes.

Jake rolls down the window to chat with the girls next to them.

Jungwon slumps into his seat. Something feels wrong. They go to the drive in all the time, but something feels off. Everything feels, sounds, and smells the same. But there’s a tinge of pain in Jungwon’s heart. Maybe Jay’s cigs are starting to get to me, he thinks, but he knows that he’s lying to himself.

“Can you just go to her car?” Sunghoon groans. “We exist too you know?”

“Fine,” Jake opens to car door and merrily makes his way to her Ford.

Jay comes jogging up to the car with two cans of beer in each hand. “I am incredible.”

“Indeed you are.” Sunghoon reaches out for one. Niki does too but Jay pulls his hand away.

“No way man.” Jay chuckles and Niki groans.

“I’m literally taller than you.”

“And I weigh more,” Jay says. “No beer until you’re seventeen.”

Jay hands Jungwon a can and he reluctantly cracks it open. He never liked beer but he figured he needed it today.

He lets the bitter substance go down his throat. He holds his breath before swallowing so that he can’t taste it.

Jungwon watches the movie in a daze. The alcohol has gone to his head and everything feels calmer despite the gore being displayed on the screen.

“Shit, it’s eleven thirty.” Jake says. “I’ll drive us home, you’re all too drunk.”

“I can drive.” Jungwon insists.

“No you can’t.” Jake pulls him up by the arms and guides him to the backseat.

Jungwon rests his head on his hand as Jake drops everyone off.

“Alright get up Won, we’re here.” Jake parks the Camaro in the driveway.

“I’m tired.” Jungwon whines and gets up sluggishly.

“You’re such a lightweight.” Jake chuckles and helps him to the door. “Get to your room before your parents see you.”

“Roger that.” Jungwon mumbles and tries to sober up before heading through the door.

The stairs moan underneath his feet as he quietly climbs them. He can hear Jooyoung chatting on the phone as he walks to his room.

He changes into pajamas and heads to the bathroom. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are half open.

“Damn, I am a lightweight.” he says while observing his face in the mirror.

He splashes water on his face and rakes his hands through his hair.

The bathroom light flickers. He furrows his brow.

“I thought dad fixed that last week.”

He washes up quietly and knocks on Jooyoung’s door.

“What?” she calls out.

He creaks the door open. “Don’t be on the phone for too long noona, mom will get mad.”

She rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t need to know, don’t be a snitch.”

“I never am.” he sighs and closes the door.

He climbs into bed and turns to look at the photo on his nightstand. It’s him and the gang at seventh grade graduation.

Jay is smiling big and towering over the rest of them. He was always the tallest among them and Jungwon was dead jealous.

Jake’s arm is slung around Jungwon and Jungwon’s arm is around little Sunoo. Sunoo’s smile is bright and cute. His suit jacket is too big for him, he probably borrowed it from Heeseung.

Jungwon still remembers the day he and Sunoo met. It was the first day of kindergarten. Sunoo was alone on the swing set, staring at his feet. Jungwon had a few friends that he met in preschool but he wondered what the harm was to have one more. He asked Sunoo if he wanted to be friends. It was the best decision he ever made.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Breakfast!” Jungwon’s mom calls out as he pulls on a striped polo.

He skips down the stairs and sits down at the dining table.

“Have you seen Sunoo? Heeseung called this morning.” Mrs. Yang says while handing him a plate of waffles, bacon, and eggs.

“No, I thought he biked home.” Jungwon cocks a brow while pouring syrup over all of his food.

“That’s disgusting.” Jooyoung remarks while taking a seat next to him.

“Your face is disgusting.” he jeers.

“Well make sure he’s at school today okay? Heeseung sounded really worried.” Mrs. Yang sits down next to her husband.

“Does he think he got kidnapped or something? As if anyone would want him.” Jooyoung snickers.

“Fuck off, that’s not funny.” Jungwon says.

“Language.” Mr. Yang says sternly.

“She’s being an ass.” Jungwon rolls his eyes.

“What did you just call me?” Jooyoung’s head snaps towards him.

“Whatever.” he dismisses her.

She shoves his shoulder. “No, say it again.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Mrs. Yang yells. “Can we not have one peaceful breakfast?”

“I can, I don’t know about her though.” Jungwon grumbles.

“I’ll kill you.” Jooyoung grits her teeth.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Jungwon replies.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sunoo’s not at school.

“Do you think he’s sick or something?” Jake wonders.

“That doesn’t make sense though, his mom said he never came home last night.” Jungwon chews on his pencil.

“Maybe he went to someone’s house.” Jay suggests and Jungwon gives him a look.

“Who’s house would he have gone to? We’re his only friends.”

Jay shrugs. “Maybe he has a secret lover.” Sunghoon chuckles.

“Why aren’t you guys taking this seriously? Something could have happened.” Jungwon crosses his arms.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Nothing bad ever happens in this shit town anyway.” Jake says right as Mr. Jones walks into the classroom.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jungwons heart drops further and further into his stomach as the day goes on with no sign of Sunoo.

The boys are playing basketball during p.e when Principal Coleman and a policeman walk into the gym.

“I wonder who’s weed they found.” Jay jokes but his smile diminishes as the two men approach them.

“Gentlemen we need to speak to you,” Principal Coleman says, “outside that is.”

They all give each other nervous looks but follow suit. Jungwon can feel eyes on his back as he makes his way out of the door.

“Do you know what route Sunoo takes to get home?” the chief says. He towers over them and his biceps look the same width as Jungwon's thighs.

“Yeah, he takes Mirkwood.” Jungwon replies quickly.

“Don’t fucking call it that anymore.” Jay rolls his eyes.

“What the hell is Mirkwood?” the man says and crosses his arms. “Stop messing around, this is serious.”

“It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet.” Jake says.

“Why do you call it Mirkwood?” the cop says, unimpressed.

“It’s from The Hobbit.” Jungwon says and Jay shoves his shoulder.

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” Jungwon exclaims.

“So what happened to Sunoo?” Sunghoon says plainly. “Where is he?”

“We’re not sure, he’s probably at his Dad’s-”

“Why would he go there, his dad’s a cock.” Jay argues.

“His dad sucks.” Sunghoon says under his breath.

“Enough, let me do my job alright?” the cop says, exasperated.

“We can help look for him, we know all the places he likes to go.” Jungwon says with hopeful eyes and Niki nods.

“Yeah, we can help.” Jake says.

“No,” the cop shakes his head. “After school you are all to go home, and if I see any of you searching around, I’ll have you in shackles. Is that clear?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We have to.”

“What if we get caught?”

“Then we run.” Jay says while packing a backpack of supplies.

“You think we can out run him?” Jungwon gets up and pulls a jacket on.

“Of course we can, that dude was huge.” Niki says while chugging down a Coke.

“Don’t drink that,” Sunghoon tsks. “You’ll have to pee.”

“I’ll just piss in the woods.” Niki rebuttals.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The sun had set an hour ago and the stars were twinkling bright.

“Where are you boys going?” Mrs. Yang asks while watching tv on the couch.

“Party.” Jungwon says quickly.

“With backpacks?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm, yeah.” Jungwon nods and she giggles.

“You’re not a good liar Jungwon-ah. Have fun, don’t be stupid out there.” she says and they happily head out the door.

Jungwon drives to Mirkwood with his headlights off. He couldn’t risk getting caught, that cop scared the shit of him.

“There’s a barricade.” Jake says quietly.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says while getting out of the car, pulling his flashlight out of his backpack. “Shit, it’s raining.” Jay wipes a raindrop off of his cheek.

Jungwon takes his flashlight out and pulls his hood over his head.

They hop over the blockade and venture into the dense woods.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It’s pouring at this point and their hoods are only making things worse.

They can’t even hear their footsteps over the sound of crashing rain.

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Jake asks.

“Anything, his bike, his jacket, him.” Jay says.

Jungwon was starting to regret this decision. They’ve been walking for what seemed like hours with no clue of Sunoo.

“Maybe we should turn back,” Jungwon says. “This isn’t working.”

“No,” Jay says. “We need to keep looking, cops miss shit all the time.”

“Hold on hold on,” Jake stops in his tracks.

“What?” everyone asks.

“Shut up, do you hear that?” he says and they all try to open their ears. There’s rustling coming from ahead. Something is coming towards them.

“Fuck.” Jungwon whispers and grabs onto Jay's arm.

They all lift their flashlights to find a human in nothing but an oversized yellow shirt, breathing heavily and squinting from the lights blinding their eyes.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Revelation Part 2

Harry Potter Marauders Era- Post Hogwarts 

Link to Part 1 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M 

Credit: Song in chapter: I forget where we were Ben Howard and a clip taken from the TV show Rescue Me (it was so fitting)

_________

You stormed back into the house muttering about how much you wanted to kick Regulus in the shins.

“Did daddy already piss you off?”

Sirius said with a smirk as he looked up from his place at the kitchen table. He clearly could see that you were in a less than happy state but he needed answers. The scowl on your face told Sirius that he was lucky to not be killed.

“You know if I didn’t adore you so fucking much I would bitch slap the hell out of you and yes he made me mad.”

You said before sitting down across from Sirius. He smiled innocently before making a drink appear in front of you.

“Is there booze in this?”

You questioned. Sirius nodded.

“It appears that is what you need.”

You laughed bitterly. Hell yes, you needed booze and Sirius needed to make sure that the drinks kept coming. If you got drunk, that would be just fine. Harry wouldn't be waking up anytime soon and if he did, Sirius could tend to him.

“You have no idea.”

You muttered. Sirius was quiet for a moment before finally deciding to speak again.

“Y/n, I normally don’t pry into your life mostly because we know everything about each other but I am feeling a bit left out and confused at the moment.”

You took a drink, knowing that it was time to tell Sirius the truth. All of your dirty and most passionate secrets were about to come spilling out to your best friend.

“We dated for three years.”

You replied. Sirius was clearly surprised. How did he and James not pick up on this? Were they that distracted that they didn’t notice you with Regulus? The better question was what did you really have in common with his little brother (other than an impeccable gift of sarcasm)?

“Wow...so was it some weird sex thing or an actual relationship?”

“It was an actual relationship combined with mind-blowing sex that would make Satan himself blush. Do you remember my friend Samantha?”

Sirius internally gagged at the word “mind-blowing sex.” To him, you were the funny girl that tagged around with the Marauders. Sure, Sirius was aware that you had lost your virginity but he wasn’t for sure to whom it was...now he knew.

“Yeah the girl from Ravenclaw, you used to study with her a lot.”

You shook your head.

“Samantha was actually your brother and I can tell you that there was no studying going on. Most of the time when I came back to the common room I was wondering if I had remembered my underwear.”

You had to stifle a look at the expression on Sirius’ face. He was quiet for a few moments longer before speaking again.

“So both of you are into some freaky shit, huh?”

Taking a sip of your drink, you only batted your eyes at Sirius.

“It depends on how you define the word freaky.”

You said replied with a sly smile. Had this conversation been with James there probably would have been a lot of yelling and screaming. With Sirius, it was a pleasant yet uncomfortable experience that both of you should look back on and laugh.

“Well, you call my brother daddy. That is some information that I could have totally gone without knowing. Now I can’t look at my little brother the same way. I'm going to call him daddy now just to witness his reaction.”

Sirius was relieved when you smiled.

“And that doesn’t surprise me. Let me make sure to find a camera because that will be an uncomfortable experience for both Regulus and myself.”

Sirius grinned.

“It was a very uncomfortable experience for me to hear earlier. Well...more like the rug being pulled out from underneath me. So, all jokes aside, what happened between the two of you?”

Your face darkened. This wasn’t a memory that you ever wanted to think about...the break up a week after graduation. It was like having the rug pulled out from under you. You still felt that way when you thought about it. Something had you convinced that Regulus was the one for you and maybe you still felt that way.

While you were in America, you had tried dating others but it never worked out. You always compared them to Regulus. They were always annoying you, talking too much, and didn't know how to touch you. Unbeknownst to you, you were the lucky one. You hadn’t been bitten during a moment of what was supposed to be exciting.

“Regulus decided that he didn’t want to disappoint your parents. They would never accept me because I am a blood traitor so bye bye Y/n.”

Sirius frowned.

“Is that why you took off to the states?”

You nodded.

“That would be the reason.”

Sirius’ was quiet again. He was trying to think of some “big brother-like” bit of advice that he could give you that might be helpful but he couldn’t think of anything. Everything that he had to offer sounded a bit condescending or downright cold…

Positive one, Walburga Black won’t be your mother-in-law Positive two, we don’t have to worry about James rolling over in his grave. Positive three,...

Sirius was sure that there were positive number three and if you gave him time he could come up with more.

“Why are you sitting here in my brother’s coat if you are so mad at him?”

You realized that you were still, in fact, still wrapped in Regulus’ coat. In your subconscious, you were enjoying having Regulus’ comforting scent around you.

“We were outside talking and he put it around my shoulders before pissing me off. I told him that he wasn’t getting his coat back and he isn’t. I’m a petty bitch and am going to keep this coat like that gold-hoarding dragon from The Hobbit.”

Sirius chuckled. He again realized how much that he had missed you over the past year.

“Alright Smaug junior, go take your gold and hide upstairs because I hear the front door opening.”

You jumped up and ran up the stairs as Regulus stepped in. Sirius took a sip of his tea before meeting his brother’s face. Regulus’ cheeks were pink from the chill of the evening.

“Is that hot?”

Sirius nodded.

“Just pour it on me.”

Sirius smirked as Regulus grabbed the blanket that was on the back of the couch and curled up in it.

“You know, a lesser man would have come back in for his coat. How are you doing, daddy?”

Regulus glared at Sirius before going to pour himself a cup of tea. It took all that Sirius had not to burst out laughing at the sneer on his brother’s face. Regulus looked like Sirius had force-fed him a lemon.

Y/n just missed a fine moment.

“Never call me that again! Maybe I don’t want to get punched in the face. Y/n is mad and I’m an idiot.”

Sirius shrugged.

“You said it.”

Regulus groaned sitting down. He wanted to apologize to you but he knew at the moment he would be better attempting to baptize a feral cat.

“I was trying to do her a favor.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do Y/n any favors and let her make her own choices or possibly use the balls between your legs to tell mum and dad to fuck off?”

Regulus’ lip twitched at this brother’s comment. It was so easy for Sirius to talk about telling Walburga and Orion to fuck off. He wasn't the one that had to be “the good son.” That was all on Regulus’ shoulders. Sure, now his efforts were shot to hell but Regulus was doing the right thing...the noble thing.

“Have you forgotten what is on my left arm? Y/n is an auror and she is going to be working for Moody soon. What a fucking joke we both would be. A death eater dating an auror...and the other way around. I did her a favor.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you aren’t a death eater anymore. You are just acting like you missed your little nap.”

Regulus crossed his arms, reminding Sirius of the little boy that would turn Grimmauld Place into a literal nightmare on Elm Street when he didn’t have a nap during the day.

“She said...well screamed at my face...that she should have dated you because you would have been so much better to her.”

Sirius winced.

“Ouch. To be fair, she and I would kill each other. I would be better off dating you...with our family history no one would bat an eye.”

Regulus didn’t want to think about his family's pureblood history at the moment. He had enough on his plate.

“If you were dating me, I would kill you. Now I get to sit back and watch the two of you play house with James’ kid. Just a thought but you two may want to save some money for the therapy that child is going to need.”

Sirius stood up and shook his head.

“Nah, the little tyke is going to be just fine.”

Regulus wanted to make a snarky comment but decided not to.

“Where did Y/n go anyway?”

Sirius pointed to the stairs.

“Upstairs with your coat that is no longer yours. I would suggest leaving her alone unless you want to lose an eye. If you do bother her and lose an eye, I will forever compare you to a pirate.”

Regulus stood up and moved to leave the room.

“Yeah, well, fuck you.”

Walking upstairs, Regulus poked his head hesitantly into what was your room. When nothing was thrown at him, Regulus figured out that the room was empty. He had no idea what he was going to say to apologize to you. If you didn’t want to hear what he was going to say, you would let whatever words that he has to offer go in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t like things were before. He couldn’t just grab you and have his way with you anymore. Things were different and Regulus wasn’t sure if they would ever be the same.

Regulus stopped outside of Harry’s nursery at the sound of your soft voice singing. Looking into the room, but not making his presence known, Regulus watched as you cradled Harry. He stepped back outside the door with his back against the wall. Had Regulus forgotten how peaceful it sounded to hear your voice? When you weren’t being sassy (and things weren’t tense) you were the most calming person that Regulus had in his life.

Don't take it so seriously, no. Only time is ours . The rest we'll just wait and see. Maybe you're right, babe, maybe. Oh no, and that's how summer passed. Oh your, great divide and range of green green grass. Oh, maybe I hold on fast, to you . Hello love, my invincible friend. Hello love, the thistle and the burr. Hello love, for you I have so many words but I, I forget where we were

Stepping away from the room, Regulus knew it was best that he walked away for now.

Regulus didn’t see you the next morning either. You were gone before he woke up. It was Remus that told him “gently” that you had decided to go back to work as an auror. Regulus hated the thought of that altogether. You had no reason to go to work With the Potter family fortune, you could live comfortably and raise Harry. It wouldn’t be your style though. You were probably doing this just to spite him.

Your choice of being an auror was the topic of the first fight that the two of you had as a couple. It was funny, especially now, for Regulus to think that the first fight happened weeks before the breakup. Now he should have seen it was the beginning of the end.

“You’re what?!”

Regulus snapped. The two of you had met at the top of the astronomy tower. Graduation was a few weeks and you decided to drop the bomb of your career to be.

“You heard me. It's what I want to do, Reggie.”

“You do realize what I am right? I don’t think that it will be looked upon very highly for you to have a boyfriend that is a death eater.”

You smirked.

“No one technically knows anything right now as it is so…

Regulus pulled himself out of his memory when you stepped into the kitchen with Marlene McKinnon on your heels. Sirius quickly leaned over and playful elbowed Regulus in the side with a smile that said, there is your woman.

“I’m an idiot. I never should have broken up with him, Y/n. I’m just a mess.”

Regulus watched as your eyes fluttered in his direction before looking away...as if he were not even in existence.

“Marlene, there is hope. It comes with batteries. Trust me, no man is worth that much aggravation. I understand why Dorcas loves women. Let me tell youI am a big supporter of the lesbian community. I wish that I was a lesbian.”

Sirius, Regulus, and Remus both looked up at that. It took all that you had not to laugh at the expression on the face of every man in the room.

“What?”

Remus questioned. You put your bag down before turning to face Remus and a very amused Sirius.

“Like gay guys, they really have it made. So think about it, you’re a guy and your with a guy who has the same interest as you that's like a win-win situation. First of all, you both like to have a lot of sex and if you’re both interested in sports you can go to hockey games, football games, quidditch matches. It's all blowjobs and ball games.”

Sirius immediately started laughing so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. This was going to be one of those Y/n conversations that he had missed so much over the past year.

“Blow jobs and ball games?”

Remus questioned, stifling a laugh, before turning to Sirius wondering if his lover was going to make it through this conversation. You, meanwhile, smirked over the top of the drink that Marlene handed you.

“Sweetie, no matter the sexual orientation every relationship goes great until the both of you start having secret evil plans to piss each other off. This doesn’t apply to Sirius and Remus because you two are the perfect relationship having freaks.”

Sirius grinned.

“You think so??”

You groaned.

“Buzzkill, Marlene. So what you are saying is even if you and I were doing each other, we would be doomed?”

Marlene nodded before deciding to use your comment.

“There is hope. It comes with batteries.”

You were watching Regulus out of the corner of your eye. He was only blinking with a small amused smirk on his face. Clearly, he had no idea that this was the conversation that everyone in this room had on a regular basis.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

Sirius stood up to take his empty cup to the sink.

“Remus and I are taking Harry clothes shopping. Do you have any requests on what not to buy?”

You shook your head.

“I think that you two will be just fine. Marlene, what are you doing tonight?”

Marlene was gathering up her sweater and handbag.

“Going to find a new boyfriend that runs on batteries.”

You gave her a thumbs up before turning and walking out of the room.

(1 hour later…)

You lay awake staring at the ceiling. From the time that you had laid down, your mind was on Regulus. Being back in the same house was quickly wearing on you. Every moment that you looked at him, you wanted nothing more than to get your hands back on your former lover.

Face it, princess, you still love him and want nothing more than to fuck his brains out.

You could take your own advice and invest in a good vibrator. It wouldn't be good enough though. Nothing would be as good as the real thing.

There is nothing wrong with teasing Regulus and let him see what he’s missing.

That could be the most promising advice that you could give yourself at the moment. Sitting up, you let your eyes fall to the trunk that was in the corner. It was the one trunk that you hadn’t unpacked yet. You knew inside was one of Regulus’ school white dress shirts. After one very steamy sex meet up, you may have just taken it back to the Gryffindor tower with you.

You didn’t want to think about how over the past year that you would wear that shirt when you wanted to feel close to Regulus again.

Don’t be a buzzkill.

You thought as you shook the thoughts from your mind. Grinning evilly, you slid your dress, bra, and knickers off before opening the trunk and looking for the article of clothing that you needed.

Stepping outside of your bedroom door, you stood dressed in only Regulus’ shirt unbuttoned halfway with nothing else underneath. You had sent Sirius a message and told him to take Harry out for ice cream. This would be enough to keep Remus and Sirius out for a bit longer. You would have enough time to work your “magic.”

You peaked your head around the corner before walking into the living room. Regulus sat rather unsuspectingly minding his own business with a book on his lap. You weren't sure what would happen after this incident took place. Were you ready to take Regulus back and risk having your heart broken again? You weren't sure 100%. Time would have to tell on that one but getting laid for the first time in years sounded nice.

Time to put this plan into action

The moment that you walked casually through the living room you were never more thankful to be such a good actress. You were able to keep your face straight without blushing when Regulus looked up and dropped the drink that he was holding in his free hand. The only regret that you had was that you couldn’t see the expression on his face. You have paid money to be able to see what his face looked like.

Casually, you walked into the kitchen acting as though you didn’t see him. You had no idea what you were going to do in the kitchen. After standing still for a moment, you opened the refrigerator to look for some mystery item that would catch your eye. You had been pawing through the refrigerator for all of three seconds when you heard Regulus’ voice.

“One question, is that my shirt?”

_________

@amelie-black @regulusheadcanons @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @quuenofblacks @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @hazncalsgal @jessyballet @knreidy1 @teletubiswszpilkach @mimisparkle12 @acciosiriusblack @fific7 @rubyroscoe1 @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @shitfaceddaniel @deanwherescas @mycuddlycorner @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @sparkleofpizza

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c5

@petrichormeraki bet you forgot I even had this fic ! Thank you again for the gift that is Whitelist AU, which feels like a lifetime ago (For Tommy it was !)

Chapter 1 Here

Last Chapter Here

Next Chapter Here

and AO3 Crossposted!

Ask to tag and give me a headsup on any typos ! c!Tubbo in my interpretation is they/them and blind.

The Hobbit Hole was more than Tommy expected. Birch-and-spruce windows poked out throughout the hillside, a round entrance carefully carved from the wood. Poking his head inside, the blond’s eyes darted across the spruce-built interior skeptically.

“..Thanks.” Tommy halfhartedly grumble, pulling his hand off the entrance. He warily stepped in, his hand resting on the doorway entrance for a moment as he investigated for potential traps.

“You’re..Sure we can just- stay here?” Tubbo asked once more, their head turned back towards the dirty blond stood aside the messy front garden.

“Of course, I swear, I don’t need another place to hoard stuff! Chances are, I’ll only be out here if I finally get around to moving my villagers out of their old setup.”  The older brit confirmed once more, his tone light. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Promise.”

Hesitantly nodding, Tubbo offered an appreciative smile his way before they turned back towards Tommy. “How’s it looking, then, Big Man?” They hummed, tilting their head.

“Fuckin’ cool as shit-” He glanced around, apprehensively surveying the ground for any traps.

“It needs a bit of cleanin’ up,” Stress chirped, sending a lighthearted glare towards Grian as he stuck out his tongue with a snicker. “We’d all be happy to help.” She finished, with a warm smile.

Tubbo politely nodded. “I think we’ll handle it. Thank you, again.” They ran their hand over the wooden arc in the entrance.

Grian shook his head. “Really, don’t worry about it. Stay here. Get settled. Either of us may be over to check up. Across the lake’s my neighbor, Scar, who you might see. But he shouldn’t come around here.” 

With a bit of exasperation, ready to be left alone, Tommy wordlessly nodded as he bounced his leg. 

Clearing his throat, Grian nodded. “Alright, then we’ll be out. We’ll see you two soon. Cya, Stress, thanks for the help!” He dipped his head towards the short brunette, who grinned bubbly back.

“See ya! Bye, loves.” Stress cooed, before deploying her glowing skeletal wings and ascending off with a quick poof of smoke.

Instinctively when the item had come to her hand, Tommy had thrown his arms around Tubbo’s ears- an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the sandy brunett man.

Grian simply put his hands up pacifying, as Tubbo was shrunk back curled, shielded away from where the brief poof was. “They’re duds, almost all fireworks here are duds.” He had calmly spoke, his tone soft. “I’ll come back to check up on you guys soon, ‘n make sure you have the supplies you need. You have free reign of that base!” Were his parting words, before he trotted off into the woodland.

Tommy uncurled himself from Tubbo. “You good, Bigman?” The blond tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Tubbo chuckled halfheartedly. ���It doesn’t really.. Scare me it just- it startles me? Hearing it? ‘Cause I don’t really have time to prepare myself for the noise..Even if it’s not the same as- the kind from. Then.” Their voice wavered for a moment, before they took a shuttering breath. “Yeah, I’m fine, Man.”

“..Mhm..Alright.  Well, this set-up is better than just ‘bout half the shit on’ the SMP.” Tommy diverted the subject, sweeping his foot over the top of the floor, watching the small streak it left beneath a thin coat of dust.

Tubbo tilted their head. “Really? It smells..Very dusty-” They sneezed into their arm, sniffling. “I.. feel like it might need a bit of work, yeah?”

The blond boy shrugged. “Yeah.. We can see ‘bout gettin’ a towel wet or something and wiping all ths shit down?”

Humming in agreement, Tubbo felt around, listening to the words their Comm robotically had been reading off.

“I’ll see ‘bout findin’ shit. They’ve gotta have wool in some of these chests,”

With a bit of digging,  the two teens had gotten to work. Not everywhere in the practically abandoned place was dusty or dirty. A small lush crevice was fresh and clean- or, relatively so. Bright feathers had littered the area around it. A path from a window seal, which had been opened, and to said crevice was nearly spotless of debris outside of such molting feathers or a few leaves.

Now without dust on the outside, the two messed with the chests, rummaging through what could be found.

..Which was a lot. Just not in the places they had expected.

Out of the chests they had searched through, they managed to find almost a doublechest full of various stacked enchanted books-

“How..How did he just leave all of this here?” “Well, he has enough he defenitely won’t notice a few gone!”

A totem of undying in a michalanious chest-

“Woah.. WHAT THE SHIT..” “Dude… This is.. A gamechanger”

A golden apple held by an item frame-

“Finders keepers! This counts, its on a chest.” “Sick!”

Bafflingly, a diamond in the food chest-

“What the actual shit. WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT-” “What? W- WHAT? WHY?”

Two enchanted, nearly broken bows with enchants- “Better than nothing, I’ll see about combinin’ them unless you feel like pinnin’ the tail on the donkey.” “..Sounds like a good plan, yah.”

And in the middle of the room, a chest with an enchanted diamond axe-

“..Fuck. Wow- There’s just a wholeass enchanted axe! What the fuck is the point of the itemframes if theres no system here?”

“Whats it enchanted with..?” “..Fortune? What a waste. Uhh, some efficiency, too.”

There wasnt much in the main storage room, but they werent quite willing to push their luck and explore too far. At least not until they got some food and set up some sort of gameplan.

The two teens distributed some of the loot they scavanged, damaged iron armor going to Tommy, a shovel to Tubbo and a spare shovel to Tommy, The totem of undying to Tubbo, and the two diamonds they scavenged turned into a diamond sword for Tubbo as well, with the axe and golden apple going to Tommy.

They turned their focus to food. The two sat beneath the support pillars against the walls, taking the time to eat  a handful of watermelon slices.

The wall of chests ahead of them had been broken, exposing the opened window with feathers trailing from it. It was an oddly live scene in the otherwise abandoned wooden hole.

Neither of them quite enjoyed the feeling of being holed in, or the small nature of the wall-home. Nor did either teen mention it.

Tommy explained the varying entrance ways from the mainroom. They had decided on splitting up soon, letting Tubbo find a place to dig out a room for the two of them, with Tommy going off and rummaging through more chests.

Tubbo found a dead-end room beneath a spruce-log room on the second story, and had begun trying to carve it out, as the other teen worked through more and more chests.

The blond eventually worked his way outside and into yard infront of the entrance, rummaging his way through the bits and pieces- the best so far, being another golden apple which he happily held onto.

Half way through his second chest, something caught his attention- or, more like, he caught something’s attention.

A blue, yellow-cheeked bird had fluttered around him, its head quirked curiously as it stared him down. Tommy shrinked.

“What the fuck do you want?” He squinted at the parrot as it lowered itself down onto the top of the open chest, hopping along the edge.

“F⚍ᓵꖌ!” The bird cooed in responded incoherently, chirping at him.

Tommy paused, eyes lighting up in realization. “Oi! You’re the one that flies into the house, huh?” 

In response, it turned it’s head away, nodding. “Hobbit!” It shrilled.

As Tommy had opened his mouth to respond, the hobbit himself, Grian, had flown down, sweeping down with a soft thud.

“Sorry! Uh, Professor Beak has a little spot in there. He likes to go n stay there most days, its a lot cozier than the mansion,” The older Brit chuckled apologetically, putting out his hand for the parrot. 

The blond boy snorted. “‘Professor Beak?’” He’d raise a brow.

The named bird chirped, stepping onto Grian’s wrist without hesitation. “Professor Ellen Taurtis Beak!” It cooed, its voice mimicking that of Grian himself.

It was… A strange display, to be sure.

Sheepishly, Grian hummed, running his spare hand through the bird’s feathers. “They may try ‘n break back in, they’re a pesky bird like that. I’m sorry for bothering you, though. You two doing good?”

“..Hm,,Yeah, thanks. Are you..Like, fuckin’ aware of all the stuff you’re leavin’?” Tommy eyed the strange man, folding his arms.

Grian merely gave a shrug. “Not really? But that just means they’re nothing important. If they help you both get started, they’re yours.”

Huh. Well, that was easy enough.

“..Right. Cool. Bye.” Tommy watched the man, as he easily nodded, striding off with his bird held by his chest.

The blond let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“..This place is fucking weird.”

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 6

( previous. )

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Wilbur Word count: 1896 words Content: wilbur soot & tommyinnit are siblings, reference to abuse, reference to torture, reference to death, healing, wilbur makes amends,

------------

Wilbur’s walking too fast for Tommy to keep up, he has to actually jog just to remain a step or two behind the man. It’s not hard to figure out where they’re going; they’re easily headed for some beach.

Tommy doesn’t want to be here. He wants to at least stay in the cabin if he’s to stay put anywhere, but Wilbur had given him a shovel and an axe and told Tommy to follow. There’s never much of a choice with an order like that.

Wilbur also hasn’t spoken to Tommy in close to an hour now. The trek is long, but it’s also a torture all on its own. Tommy doesn’t do well with silence, fearing that Wilbur is silently judging him or sizing him up. He feels very much like he’s marching toward his own demise.

He very well may be.

Keeping his gaze down, Tommy tightens his grip on the handle of the shovel, trying to keep focused on staying right behind Wilbur, ignoring how much his legs are hurting.They’re passing by abandoned portals, portals they could easily light. The idea that there would be paths waiting for them on the other side is a far-fetched idea though; they’re too far out from any sort of civilization.

After what feels like forever, Wilbur finally stops. Tommy stops next to him, peering out at the water. It’d be so easy to craft a boat and sail out toward escape, but that would just be more isolation and loneliness. The potential escape isn’t worth that.

“Grab as much sand as you can carry in your inventory,” Wilbur explains. “We’re going to have to make another trip, possibly to a desert, but this is good enough.” He offers Tommy a smile. It’s reminiscent of the old Wilbur, the one that ran L’Manburg with all the pride and charisma he used to possess. There are shades of it again, but not enough to induce an illusion that this is good. Nothing about this situation is good. Ranboo and Dream had also disappeared some time ago, and there’s no telling when they’ll be back.

“What are we grabbing sand for?” Tommy asks to fill the silence. He’s already at work, grabbing sand and filing it away into his backpack. It’s messy and coarse, already getting into his shoes. “This already sucks.”

"Explosives,” comes the casual reply. Too casual for Tommy’s liking. He’d already had an idea, but the fact that Wilbur wants them both to fill their inventories, and then make a second trip scares Tommy. Narrowing his eyes, he pauses in his digging to lean against the shovel.

“Why are you doing this Wilbur? Why do you and Dream want to hurt everyone so bad? Why am I even here?”

“Instead of me answering those questions, can I ask you a few questions instead?” Wilbur too pauses, pressing his hands together as he studies Tommy with a pensive expression. “Please, be as honest with me as possible, alright?”

“No promises.” A nod signals for Wilbur to go ahead, however.

“Are you happy with your life right now?”

It’s a very pointed question that has Tommy flinching back. Instinct would have him deflecting or changing the subject entirely, but Wilbur looks like he’s waiting patiently for an answer. This isn’t the revived Wilbur, this is the one that had been Tommy’s closest friend for the longest time... brothers, even.

Part of him is tempted to lie, but that would be pointless. They’d talked endlessly in the void, with Tommy bitching every moment he could about how unfair his life had become. Wilbur knows him far too well.

“No,” Tommy finally mutters, turning away. “I’m not happy, but you knew that.”

“Is there anyone, any single person you trust and want to go back to?”

Tommy thinks of Tubbo, then of Puffy. He and Tubbo are still too awkward around each other, not having had a proper conversation since the final showdown with Dream. Sure they’d spoken a few times, but nothing deeper than arguments over where to live.

Puffy had made some promises, but he doesn’t know her from Sam, and Sam had broken his promise completely. With his shoulders slumping, Tommy shakes his head. Everything about this conversation is fucked up, and they both know it.

“Are you afraid of me?” Wilbur’s not ending his line of questioning anytime soon. This is the one question Tommy doesn’t really want to answer.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Wilbur falls silent as he turns away, going back to the task of gathering sand into his own backpack. The silence stretches between them, and Tommy feels it like a cold sweat on his back. It’s just as piercing as Wilbur’s questions, just as numbing as the afterlife. Silent, too, if the ringing in his ears is anything to go by. Even the lapping of the waves isn’t enough to snap him back to reality.

“Do you remember when we were younger?” Wilbur finally asks. The silence doesn’t snap Tommy back, but Wilbur’s voice does. Always a source of calm, always there to keep him grounded. It’s aggravating, this effect Wilbur has over him. Annoying and comforting at the same time.

“I don’t remember much anymore, Wilbur,” Tommy responds. “I remember wars and death and everything I worked for going up in smoke.”

“You don’t remember you and me?” Wilbur’s facing him again, wearing that ugly serene smile on his face. “You don’t remember how I used to read to you?”

“Vaguely.” It’s a dismissive answer, because Tommy wants to squash anything friendly out of his mind. The less he associates with Wilbur, the sooner they can end this game and he can go back home to his dirt house. “That was a long time ago, Wil.”

“It was our favorite activity.” Wilbur actually sounds sad. Tommy can’t tell if it’s acting or genuine, but he’s being drawn in anyway. Part of him wants to throw his arms around Wilbur and comfort him. A strong, loud part of him is already moving closer.

“I remember our favorite book was ‘The Hobbit’,” Wilbur continues. “I also read the Lord of the Rings trilogy to you a couple of times. You were so cute, hanging on every word. Simple times, Tommy. The best times.”

“I don’t have any best times,” Tommy snaps. “Like I said, I remember lots of wars. Lots of fighting and people dying. You died. I died, and now you kidnapped me. Why are you trying to butter me up? Wilbur this is so fucked.”

“I know. I messed up Toms. I messed up so many times, especially with you. Even now, I know what I did was cruel and stupid. I promise, if you give me one more chance, I’ll make it all up to you. No more pain, no more agony. You’ll have a support system-”

“Do I have to remind you of Dream?” Tommy snarls. His voice cracks as he speaks. “He’s the one who fucking killed me, remember? He had me exiled, he tortured me. And you come in like you know exactly what all took place!”

“Tommy I was dead. Had I been able to stop him, I would have. You know I would never condone anyone hurting you. I don’t like that you’ve been hurt the way you have been. I hate it more than anyone, trust me!”

“You still died and left me alone. If you weren’t so selfish, neither of us would be in this position! My life went to shit ever since you died, you don’t get to stand there and tell me you hate it.”

“I wasn’t good for the server. I wasn’t good for you. I thought that if I was gone, things for you would improve. I thought you would’ve won, that Dream wouldn’t have hurt you, or that your friendships would be strained.”

“Stop, stop!” This is embarrassing. Tommy’s crying, standing there in front of Wilbur and sounding like a petulant child. “Stop talking! Stop making me relive everything, okay? You weren’t there, you don’t get to act like you know what happened. It was shit. Everything was shit, everything is still fucking garbage, and now I’m stuck living with the one person who hurt me, thanks to you.”

“Toms. My Tommy...” Wilbur has tears of his own in his eyes. With his shovel falling into the sand, he gathers Tommy in his arms. Tommy doesn’t resist, because everything about this hug means something. It’s an actual, loving hug, and not a ploy at manipulation. He can feel it in the way Wilbur is holding him, rocking bath and forth with tiny hiccups. “Tommy I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry you were hurt and cast aside by everyone. I’m here now, alright? It’ll be me and you, just like it’s always been.”

Tommy sniffles as he leans into Wilbur. He’s not returning the embrace, but Wilbur feels so warm. It’s been so long since anyone had hugged him like this, or just loved him. He wants to savor this feeling.

“All your long years we’ve been friends,” Wilbur whispers. “Trust me as you once did.”

“You want me to let it all go?” Tommy finally wraps his arms around Wilbur. “I don’t even know what to let go of.”

“All the pain, Tommy. “All the pain, trauma, abuse. All your attachments. Even the memories. With us, you won’t hurt anymore. Dream won’t touch you, and Ranboo is your friend. I’ll be your brother, okay?”

“...let it all go...” Tommy relaxes more into Wilbur’s embrace. Slowly, his arms come up to rest against Wilbur’s back. “Let everything I had go, right?”

“I’m here again. I won’t leave you. I promise you Toms. Tommyinnit, gremlin child. Vice President, and my best friend, brother...”

“Don’t overdo it now,” Tommy jokes under his breath. It earns a chuckle from both of them. The laughter helps him feel normal, like maybe everything really will be okay. This doesn’t feel like an indoctrination, really. Wilbur isn’t evil. Maybe he’s got some misguided beliefs, but Tommy missed him. There’s no one that can fill the void in his heart like Wilbur can.

“Point is, it’s you and me against the world,” Wilbur continues. “We won’t count the other two yet, so we’ll stick with just us, alright? When all this is over, I’ll read to you again. Any book of your choosing.”

“Will you read me The Hobbit again?“ Tommy pulls back enough to blink slowly at Wilbur. His vision is still wet with tears, but he’s cheering up. “And maybe we can watch the movies together?”

“Absolutely. Anything for you, alright?”

“Then I trust you.”

“And?”

“And...I’ll stay by your side.” Tommy nods.

There are matching sighs from the pair, with them looking awkwardly at each other for a moment. Then, with a blush, Tommy picks up his shovel again and preparing to dig up more sand.

“I still don’t get why we have to do this,” Tommy grumbles.”

“Tell you what, after we get back to the cabin, I’ll let you blow up the surrounding area. You’ve earned yourself a few explosions to vent your anger.”

His excitement is barely contained, with him moving faster and shoveling even more dirt. Okay, the situation as a whole might still be fucked, but Tommy can’t resist playing with fire. As a treat.

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

Fic Writer Questions! (you can find me here on AO3 if you're interested!)

tagged by dear @theburialofstrawberries mwah!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

112 yowza!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

750,421 kinda tempted to go delete one word so it can be 750420 which is a far more Pleasing number

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

12ish but some of them overlap: BBCS/Sherlock Holmes/ACD (these are all different bc my bbcs fics are not the same as my own modern fem Sherlock Holmes adaptation are not the same as my ACD Holmes fic; Good Omens; Harry Potter/The Werewolf Draco Malfoy Cinematic Universe; Captive Prince; The Hobbit; Fleabag (it was a crossover with BBCS but Fleabag is the perspective character so it still counts as a separate fandom imo); Doctor Who; The Office; Parks and Rec; Broad City (one a piece for those last 5 but I AM going to write a Parks and Rec polycule fic for @gaykagome)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

They're all Good Omens fics from the 2019 Summer of Good Omens! Susceptible to Summer, Fragments Shored Against My Ruin, Something So Magic, Enter Serpent, and Anything We Like

All of those have over 2k except the last one, but average engagement for me is like 400 kudos or so

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try! It depends on what's going on with me. Sometimes I just don't have the energy, and I figure people would rather I spend my brain power on writing new fics than on writing replies to comments. Wish I had a fave button tho so I could let people know I read and reread comments, because I do!

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh I wrote this ficlet series called A Chemical Defect about John and Sherlock's relationship in s3 of BBCS, and it's WILDLY unpopular. People don't read my fic to cry sad tears I guess! John and Sherlock are having an affair in the story, and it ends with the implication that their relationship is unsustainable and that Mary knows about it anyway. I intended to come back to it after s4 and write a more optimistic ending but LOL! Didn't have the heart.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I know this answer is kinda up my own ass, but like. I think stories that feel true to life sort of feel like they end on a beginning if you know what I mean? You don't really consider a chapter of your life closed until you look back on it from the next? SO that said, I think I'd have to say that it's my big BBCS serial The Only One in the World. I spent 2 years writing it, and it ends with John retiring from medicine to solve crimes and write books full time.

Could also be my WDMCU (werewolf Draco Malfoy cinematic universe) series Moonrise, which starts with Draco isolated in his abusive mother's house, trying to cope with lycanthropy essentially alone and ends with him in love and surrounded by found family in a cozy cottage in Hogsmeade, having gotten some lycanthrope rights legislation passed after working at it for years and talking to Harry about whether they want to have kids. Oh man I feel warm and fuzzy just thinking about it

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written one crossover. It's BBCS/Fleabag, because me and @loudest-subtext-in-tv were laughing about how John seems like one of the horrible guys Fleabag sleeps with basically out of self loathing, so I wrote this fic to make Nattie laugh, and you should read it bc it's so good and so underrated.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, but people don't seem to know that authors can read bookmark tags unless you private the bookmark, and someone once put in the bookmark tag on one of my fics 'writing was meh but it was okay.' Okay so why bookmark it then??

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Fuck yes! I'm not sure what 'what kind?' means? People fucking? Sloppy, silly, and awkward, with lots of laughing. I also really like writing afterglow scenes which are even sillier and gigglier and often involve one character cooking for another. Food as love language is a very distinct pattern of mine tbh

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, but occasionally I'll write a post on here where I make some elaborate head canon, and I'll see people in the tags talking about how they want to write fic of it, and it makes me breathe fire out of my nose like a dragon like PLEASE DON'T. The WDMCU came out of a ficlet post I made on here like a year before I actually wrote the 60k series so like!!! Please don't do that!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! To Russian and I believe Chinese. Not my entire oeuvre but a handful of BBCS and Good Omens fics

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I wrote a fic inspired by an RP I did with my gf right around when we met (actually now that I think about it, it's two fics), and I waaaaaaanna do a WDMCU collab with my beloved Sally @clytemenestras at some point if he has time bc he inspired me to even write werewolf draco with his original lesbian werewolf story

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

favorites are hard for me? I always think I'm currently doing my best writing lol so I'll say drarry

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

I don't post fics unless theyre finished, so I don't have any WIP up on AO3, but I did intend to continue with my fem Sherlock Holmes series, Your Many Tendencies. I just haven't been in a Holmes mood for a long time. Maybe I'll come back to it idk. This particular series is honestly very unpopular? People will just straight up say they don't read femslash, and it hurts a lot. This series feels really personal too, bc it's about a Black autistic nonbinary lesbian, so it does hurt my feelings that no one seems to care, yknow? I mean the people who read it are extremely kind and thoughtful in their engagement with it, but it has vastly less engagement than my m/m fic, and that's painful. It gets literally 1/10 the attention my fics usually get.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Almost all of my writing is romance, but I tend to write concurrently about recovery and found family, and I think I'm very good at doing that in a way that connects with my audience. I once had someone ask if they could use my words in their wedding vows, and I've had people tell me they started doing things with their spouse that my characters do with their partners in order to express love. I think about that all the time. My Impact. It makes me feel like I have a real duty to my audience yknow?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

This question is hard for me like I've been writing so long and so much that I'm literally always happy with my final draft! It's always exactly to my taste, yknow? I suppose I could say that my fics tend not to be terribly plotty but so WHAT? That's beside the fuckn point for me. Plot who? I don't know Her. Also honestly like. Stories feel more True to me when they aren't ruthlessly devoted to plot bc like life isn't like that yknow?

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

If you're not fluent in that language, get a beta who is!!!!! That said, I have written scraps of very simple dialogue in French using mostly Google Translate (sometimes I check w Sally bc he speaks French but I am usually too impatient), and I am perfectly well aware that I take my life in my hands each time!!! Also don't do that bullshit thing where it's in italics? That shit is weird and exoticizing. Just write it in quotation marks like normal dialogue.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

BBCS babey back in 2012. Ended a 5 year dry spell for me after I got my writing degree.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmmmm I think it's probably gonna be the fic I'm working on now that I haven't posted yet, but I know it's called Names for a House, and here's a tiny bit of it

Thanks again Shreya for asking me to do this bc I really love talking about myself. I tag @the-moon-loves-the-sea, @clytemenestras, @tomiano, @gaykagome and @totallysilvergirl

No pressure <3

[fkingsteverogers]

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short 

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

                                                        ****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest.  (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are. 

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood. 

“You have to talk about her sometime.” 

“Who?” 

“Whoever makes you frown like that.” 

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor. 

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!” 

Day One; New York City: 

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t. 

“Just go, Stevie.” 

Four Days; Eastern Europe: 

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human. 

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written. 

You’d been good enough for Steve. 

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City: 

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.” 

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich. 

Two Days; Louisiana: 

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.” 

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.” 

He didn’t, not really. 

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply. 

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

 It makes Bucky physically sick with rage. 

Day Four; New York City: 

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business. 

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place. 

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--” 

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on. 

The nights had been quiet since he left. 

Twelve Hours; New York City: 

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches. 

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug. 

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..” 

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City: 

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about. 

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall. 

Thirty Minutes; New York City: 

Bucky gets thrown through a wall. 

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome. 

Two Minutes; New York City: 

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors. 

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky. 

Now; New York City: 

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away. 

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself. 

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.” 

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch. 

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up. 

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy. 

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls. 

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you.  Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again. 

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it. 

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position. 

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.” 

[angstysebfan]

PR Stunt Gone Wrong - Chapter 28

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: You are a fellow actress in the MCU, Bucky’s love interest. You met Seb during the CA: WS and you guys hit it off. Chemistry on and off the set, but never dated until after Infinity War. During filming of FATWS, the pandemic caused everything to shut down. Seb offered you to spend quarantine with him, but somewhere along the lines, things go wrong and Seb makes a PR decision.

A/N: I was going to to this in a Bucky story, but then I decided to keep it Seb. With everything going on with Seb over the last several months, I came up with this story in my head. Obviously a lot of this is made up, but it is using what we know Seb has been doing over the last several months.

After Sebastian left, you spent a great deal of your time back on the beach, thinking. You were thankful that the area was quiet and empty and you could have time with your thoughts as you walked up and down the long beachfront with Tucker. You started thinking about everything, and got very overwhelmed. You decided to break everything down.

You started with Chase, since you both had a newer relationship, so not as much to think about. Chase was the one that was there for you when you fell apart. He came to your rescue like a knight in shining white armor. He held you when you cried, he told you all your feelings were valid, and he made you pick yourself up when you were down. He respected your ongoing feelings for Seb and never pressured you to move on.

When you both kissed the first time, you didn’t know what to think. Of course you liked it, but you immediately stopped it. You assumed it was because you weren’t over Seb. You convinced yourself that you didn’t have feelings for Chase. You tried to shut down anything that would have made you feel more for Chase, because he had become your best friend. You, eventually, let your walls down and allowed yourself to give in to temptation. 

At first you didn’t regret it, because nothing changed between you. As time went on, however, you started to have some feelings, and knew he did also. When he left you to film, you missed him, a lot. But now that you think about it, you did pretty well on your own. You were calling him every day, only when you needed advice. Most of the time you were too busy with work, or talking about the trial to talk to him. 

Going out to LA was amazing, and you are honestly happy you did it. Seeing him again, being with him, letting him in more, was perfect. You thought you were going to be out there for awhile, but you chose to leave. You wanted time to think. You were confused by your feelings for him, and for Sebastian.

Now Sebastian was a whole other matter. You have known him for so long, and have had so many ups and downs with him, you don’t know where to start. I guess the clue was when he didn’t choose you at first to be with. You were his fuck buddy, and nothing more. It took awhile for you both to get on the same page, and you decided to give him another chance. It was still rocky, but for the most part, you were happy.

You feel in love with him, hard. You started picturing a long life with him. Marriage, kids, growing old together, the works. You were too scared to tell him how you felt, thinking he would run away. Another clue, I guess. It took awhile, but he said it first. As mad as you were at him, your heart lit up like Christmas when you heard those words. When you finally said them back, you felt like the Earth shifted and everything was finally in their right place. 

The pandemic brought a lot of struggle for you both, but you kept going, together. It wasn’t until he was given the ultimatum of doing this PR relationship, or your career was going to be ruined. You still wish that he would have spoken to you. That he would have told you what was going on, so you could fight it together. But, “to protect you” he left you. Leaving you broke you, and then find out that he was with another woman, who was younger, and thinner, prettier (in your head), broke you more. 

Why would you believe that it wasn’t real? He didn’t answer your calls, texts, or any other communication. He only reached out after he saw you and Chase together, because he was jealous. Seeing him again for the first time, and seeing his sad eyes, all you wanted to do was run into his arms. You always wanted to protect him, just like he always wants to protect you. You can’t fault him for that, though you wish you could. 

But he fucking slept with the bitch! That is something you are not sure you can forgive. You swore you would never sleep with him again, but obviously that didn’t work out. You want to know why! Why did he have to sleep with her? He even admitted that he liked it. That is a smack in the face like no other.

You will never forget that day in your trailer, when he told you what was going on. You finally told him how you felt. That you hated him, which a part of you really does. You hate that he took it upon himself to do this without talking to you. You hate that he broke your heart and acted like it wasn’t a big deal. You hated that he slept with her who knows how many times. Your emotions got the better of you and slept with him. You made sure that there was no emotions except anger in that moment.

Since then, he has been patient, and understanding, and kind. Almost like the old Seb that you fell in love with. He has let you be a part of everything with the case, and has been behind you with all decisions you have made. Even telling you if you chose Chase, he would support it. You feel tears in your eyes thinking about that. 

Chase gave you up. Didn’t let you figure out your feelings. What if you want to be with him? Will be reject you? Is he with someone else now? Did he end it because he was jealous of the pictures with you and Sebastian? You’re glad you have this place to run away to, and still Sebastian found you. He came for you. To make sure you were ok, and safe, and that you knew you were not alone. 

Today when you slept with Sebastian, you knew it wasn’t just sex for him. He was making love to you. He took his time and worshipped you; just like he used to. He made you feel loved and cherished, and you would lie if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of it. You know Seb loves you, even though he was shit at showing you before, he has shown it recently. But is it enough? Can you trust that he will continue down this path of being open, honest, and truthful with you?

When you called Chase, you thought you just needed closure, but after the conversation, you feel like you still need to consider your feelings for him. You have 2 men who you care for greatly. You have a broken heart that was caused by both of them, you need to protect. What is the right way?

You start heading off the beach toward the house. The sun has practically set and it was getting cold. You feel like you have made your decision, but you want to sleep on it and see if you still feel the same way in the morning. Then you need to get the courage to tell everyone involved. 

No matter the outcome, you are doing this for you. You are making your own decisions now. You control your own destiny.

--

Chapter 27 / Chapter 29

What do you think her decision is? Oh and don’t worry, we will find out what happened to Ale. 2 more chapters and this one is in the books! Feedback is appreciated.

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[morwensteelsheen]

farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.