#the energy is very i need to convince my husband i should keep all my shit because look at how cute i am

[fulltimeinternethomo]

obsessed with the fact that phil can’t help himself from looking to where dan is sat off screen, like should i leave?

[thechaoticreader]

10 More Booktok Books I Refuse To Read

Why am I doing this again? Well, I'm a bitch and feel like I've been rating books very highly lately so I need an outlet for the hater energy. Trying to keep the blog chaotic neutral!

*Disclaimer: If you like any of these books, slay! I'm happy for you! These are just my own consumer choices, and imo negative book reviews are just as helpful as positive ones!*

1. Twisted Love (& Series)

will HATE the love intrest

heard its a little incelly

too straight for my gay ass

as an Anna, I cannot condone this spelling so out of principle I will not read her books <3

2. The Fine Print (& Series)

Crusty billionaires aren't sexy

I repeat its too straight for my gay ass

I was born on December 5th which is the same day Walt Disney died and idk I just feel weird about it

eat the rich

I've had another one of Lauren Ashers books on my TBR for like a year and I keep putting off reading it (even tho its about F1 and Im obsessed with F1) so theres no hope of me reading and enjoying one about something I dont care about

3. A Little Life

I have enough mental illness without reading this book

I have enough queer trauma without reading this book

I'm not okay enough to read this book

Seriously though, this would be way too triggering for me and im chosing to prioritize my mental health over reading popular and critically acclaimed works (you all should too <3)

4. One Of Us Is Lying

I don't typically like Y/A thrillers

generally doesnt intrest me -> im getting tired of thrillers and have started leaning towards straight up horror

I HATE the cover

5. Inheritance Games

I've been burnt out of this genre/type of book since the 2000s-2010s dystopian craze

my housemate hated it and I trust his opinion

6. Lightlark

...do I really need to say anything

7. House In The Cerulean Sea

white author profiting off of indigenous trauma

mishandling of indigenous genocide (i.e the 60's scoop)

paints the residential school system as "not that bad"

I know the above books haven't been that serious but this one absolutely is and I will link information and resources in the comments. I put this one so low because I know if it was first people would just skip this whole post and potentially not look into the history of why this book is problematic.

8. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

theres too much hype and i don't want to be dissapointed

9. The Love Hypothesis

galaxy leggings

I wont be able to overlook the cringy millenial humor

it will transport me back to 2016 (in a bad way...see above)

im too gay for that (I can be convinced to read bride tho👀)

10. From Blood and Ash

I have no good reasons tbh

the cover triggers my fight or flight

im not a series girlie (gender neutral) -> duologies are on thin ice

[arsenalgbt]

How we have not spoken about them hooking up yet is beyond me! Sex is what takes their feelings from friendship with a dash of lust to love with a whole helping of lust and it surprises them both when it happens. Declan likes to keep fit, he hates that he’s stuck working at a desk all day and that he’s in his car for ages in London traffic so he goes to the gym during the week and sometimes joins KT and his friends in playing a soccer match in the park for a laugh during the weekend. It’s late one Saturday afternoon when Dec returns home, stiff and sweaty and in desperate need of a massage. Kai hasn’t been wating for him to come home or anything, he was at Jurrien’s apartment until an hour before Dec got home but Kai’s happy to see him – he doesn’t like being home alone. Kai asks what’s when he notices Dec is uncomfortable, a sense of protectiveness coming over him, and when Dec says he needs a massage, Kai offers to roll out the knots between his shoulders. Saturday nights are their movie nights and Kai doesn’t want Dec to have to go to bed early or anything. Dec accepts the offer and removes his shirt and Kai gets to work, rubbing his hands expertly over Dec’s skin. He doesn’t expect Declan to moan, neither of them did, but suddenly it’s all Kai can think about as he starts putting more pressure on the area between his husband’s shoulder blades. Declan feels like his body is on fire, he has a newfound energy and when he moans again and hears Kai chuckle at him – he stands up and turns around with a sense of anger. He is not the type of person that Kai should be laughing at. It doesn’t take long for Declan to have Kai pressed up against the wall and for them to be making out. They don’t even make it to the bedroom, Declan fucks Kai for the first time in their living room. He also fucks him in there for a second time a little while later and a third time a little while after that before they decide to talk about it.

Kai does tell Jurrien and he doesn’t expect it to be a big deal. He’d been honest with Jurrien and told him that he’d have to fuck Declan eventually, Jurrien knew that Kai would have to get pregnant and keep getting pregnant until he had a son. Jurrien had managed to convince himself he was fine with all of it but now Kai’s telling him he slept with his husband and seems to be happy about it, like he enjoyed it rather than thinking of it as a duty. Jurrien feels like Kai has cheated on him.

Now, question for you, how do you think Ben, Leo and KT feel about Kai pre the baby thing? I feel like Ben and Leo would have an easier time with him and the marriage than Kieran would have. Kieran is still against marrying for business and while Leo, now agrees that it’s probably not the right thing to do, he still understands and accepts that Dec did it.

my dear anon my compadre my shenanigans enabler.......... many apologies I've been busy (writing ofc!!) so let me reply to you now!

literally 100% gonna write that as the reason why deckai fucked for the first time. yep. no notes!!! perfection!

however: ((( Jurrien knew that Kai would have to get pregnant and keep getting pregnant until he had a son. ))) now, I will have to see because I do have my own plot point that is kinda spicier I think lolllllllllll. but I love this different perspective! so never say never. jurrien, honey, u need to touch some grass cough

to answer ur question; agreed that ben and Leo were alright with deckai's arranged marriage - a very common practice among their circle of rich kids LOL. ben took one look at kai's picture, and commented on his immaculate sense of style. Leo said, "He seems... fragile." (hooo boy) and KT didn't have much opinion on it like after years of befriending this bunch of rich kids nothing surprises him anymore ajkskf

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate Fanfiction

CHAPTER 7 (GALE’S POINT OF VIEW)

I’m waiting outside the facility with Shadowheart, questioning if Emmy is alright and how I wish I could be there for her. I have numerous questions racing through my mind such as: I wonder why I was asked to leave the room if I’m her husband? What would he be telling her that I can’t be there for? No matter, I suppose; nothing I can do except leave the man to his practices. We stare at the outskirts of the city, admiring the entertainers and noticing a new circus is opening up downtown.

“What do you think is going on in there?” Shadowheart asks, both of us staring in the distance ahead of us. “It’s taking quite a long time.”

“I wish I had the answer to that question. I’m sure everything is fine. Besides, if it were fatal, she wouldn’t have waves of feeling perfectly fine, right? It may just be a bug. Ah, if only we had a doctor back in Waterdeep.”

“If they don’t remedy that soon enough, I may lose my mind. Maybe I should become a doctor. I am a cleric after all. I am perfectly capable of curing the wounded and guiding them to a path of spiritual healing.”

“A religious doctor? I’d love to see how that plays out.”

“Shut it, Gale.” I notice Karlach and Wyll heading our direction, Karlach appearing to be more enthusiastic than usual as she approaches us. It seems she’s trying to convince Wyll to take her to the new circus and all I could hear was him saying, “No, not right now. Maybe later, okay?” Thank the Gods for Karlach’s energy, otherwise I’d be even more anxious than I am right now.

“OH. MY. GODS. Fytz has the cutest baby I have ever seen. I’m so glad she’s alive and well after what went down in the city over a year ago. Man… How fortunate for them. Now I need a baby to cuddle… But I don’t want kids,” she says with the utmost energy in her voice. “I need a glass of wine.”

“Are you going to be that weird aunt that brings too much booze to the parties?” Wyll teases. She elbows him playfully in the shoulder. I chuckle, rolling my eyes at their nonsense, though I will say I think their relationship is rather sweet in a chaotic sort of way.

“Shhh! Don’t give away my secrets! Say, where’s Emmy? Is she still in there?” At that very moment, the door opens and she walks out, her skin still pale and her face in complete shock and bewilderment. Her eyes are staring at the ground, not making any contact as she walks out. She appears to be speechless and I begin to worry about what happened in there. What did he tell her?

“There she is! Looking like she might die, but she’s here,” Karlach says. Emmy still doesn’t say a word, not even a light smile appears on her face, just a blank stare. “Oh. Soldier?”

“I’m…okay. I won’t die thank the Gods,” she murmurs, but there’s still something she’s still hiding. I walk up to her with a smile, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything about her situation. Her bottom lip appears to be quivering, as if she’s trying to fight off the urge to cry. My smile fades and worry takes over, making my heart race at an intense speed. She keeps trying to speak, but not a single sound escapes her lips.

“Honey, I’m worried about you,” I say. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.” At that very moment, I could feel my heart sink to the inner abyss of my stomach, causing a hint of nausea as she confides the unexpected news to us. Everyone stares at her in astonishment, then all eyes are on me shortly after. I’m unsure how to respond, and I also can’t explain what feelings are swimming around inside me at this moment. We’ve been married awhile, we love each other deeply, we’re more than content with our home lifestyle. So what is the problem? Why do I feel this way?

“You’re…pregnant?” I mutter, trying to process the words she said out loud. I certainly can’t see the expression on my face, but I imagine it’s a blank look. “We’re…having…”

“Gale? Are you going to be alright?” Wyll asks. “The poor man looks like he’s going to faint.”

“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation? How I said I need cuddles from a baby? Or…am I crazy?” Karlach asks.

“I think the crazy ship has sailed long ago,” Shadowheart says with a chuckle. “Besides, I think she’s serious.”

“Holy shit.” I wrap my arms around Emmy, feeling the warmth of her tears soak themselves in my robe. I want to be there as much as I can for her, though I will admit this comes to an extreme shock. Silence is very present right now as well as trying to process this unexpected news, though I honestly can’t say I’m surprised in any way. I look into her dark eyes, wiping away the tears on her cheekbones with the tip of my thumb. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as I try to comfort her, which seems to help to some degree. This isn’t bad news for us, but I will say we weren’t exactly planning on having a family of our own.

“It will be okay,” I whisper in her ear. “As long as we can avoid any Absolutists or bloodthirsty devils at all costs, we should be okay. We need to head back to Waterdeep as soon as we can.”

“Without saying hello to your favorite bloodsucker? How rude,” a familiar voice mutters nearby, and we all turn around to see Astarion standing there in the open, smiling and exposing his hungry fangs. “And darling, I heard the news. I do hope you’re alright.”

“Astarion! Wow… I didn’t realize the sun is already setting,” Emmy says. “How are you? What are you up to?”

“To be honest, I’m trying to get out of this god-forsaken city. Ugh! Then again, when Raphael has the crown, we’re fucked no matter what.” More news for my exhausted mind to process. Why and how would Raphael have the damned crown?

“RAPHAEL?!” Shadowheart and I shout, intense shock in our voice. That is not the news I expected to hear today, but I’m also not surprised. With our sheer string of weird luck, I’m not quite sure what to expect anymore. On top of that, as if the entirety of our situation couldn’t get worse, Raphael is now an archdevil and has complete control of all nine Hells. He also might be after Emmy now, but I sure hope that’s not the case. However, I do not think Raphael’s intentions are to overpopulate the world with mind flayers, so there’s that going for us at least.

“Boy! What a day!” Karlach says. My mind is racing with so many thoughts and fears, like: what will happen if Raphael has the crown? Will I be a good father? Will I be strong enough to protect my family should anything happen?

“Gods… Why? There’s way too much for me to process right now,” I mumble. Emmy continues to hug me with her head lying on my chest. I kiss the top of her head, trying to ignore these worries but I doubt they’ll perish any time soon.

“We will get through this like we always have. I promise,” she says, looking up at me with her innocent brown eyes. I can’t help but smile at her, the love of my life, the one person who keeps me the man I’m meant to be. She’s right.

“As much as I love romantic dramas as much as I love debauchery, I’d really like to know… If it’s okay that I come back with you all. To Waterdeep,” Astarion asks. “I know that was very sudden and you’ll need time to think about it, but holy Hells, I can’t be here any longer.”

“What? You don’t like it here, even with Cazador gone?” Shadowheart asks.

“There’s far too many memories here for me, way more bad than good. I’d like to start anew. Everywhere I turn, I see Cazador, even though he’s dead. I’m reminded of the alleyways where I was beaten to a pulp and then turned. I can’t live like this anymore, facing my own trauma day by day. I don’t want to live in fear any longer.”

“Well, come stay with me. No offense, but I can’t for the life of me imagine you living with three humans, one of them being a baby.”

“Aw! I’m offended, but also, you’re not wrong at all. Fine. I accept your offer.” Emmy and I watch these two have the most humorous conversations, grateful that we’re reunited as a group, even if it’s a temporary situation.

“Bite my neck though, and your ass is grass.”

“Aw, I love family reunions!” Karlach cheers while jumping up and down.

I look at Emmy, nodding to the north to have her follow me to a distant area for a moment, allowing everyone to catch up while we get some private time. The sun is setting beautifully while the moon ascends into the lavender sky. The entire city is bright underneath the silver glow. We find an empty field of grass and various flowers just west of the city.

“Come sit in the grass with me,” I tell her. She sits down next to me and we both admire the glistening silver stars in the sky. I hold her hand as we admire the night time atmosphere.

“I love you, Gale. I always have and always will,” she murmurs, grabbing my face and planting a delicate kiss upon my lips. I feel a calm feeling overwhelm my body and I finally feel less anxious than before. I don’t want her to know about the anxiety I felt earlier. She doesn’t need to feel worse.

“And I love you until my dying breath.” As I say these words to her, I notice something is on her mind. She begins to disassociate. “Is everything alright, baby?”

“Just thinking about the crown, how there needs to be some way to get it back, how the world might be worse than it was with the elder brain.” She sighs, leaning her head back and I can tell she’s under a lot of stress. I wrap my arm around her and kiss the side of her head.

“I don’t think Raphael would do anything like the brain did. If anything, he will use it as a means to be the master of the Hells, where Zariel and the other archdevils will have to bow down to him and serve him. In reality, it’s a means for power in Hell.”

“You’re definitely right. I shouldn’t be worrying so much. Thank you.” She takes my hand and places it on her delicate, small belly, where our child is growing.

“So a baby, huh? Boy, that will certainly change our lives,” I say. We both look at our hands that are placed on her stomach, just admiring it as we’re sitting outside underneath the astral sky.

“Right now, I’m just in shock, but… I will get used to the idea. I know I’ll love him or her, no matter what.” She turns to face me with her adorable eyes, admiring me with her gaze. She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. I chuckle and return the favor by kissing her lips, placing my hand underneath her chin. Our tongues intertwine as we kiss passionately, just enjoying each other’s company underneath the darkest of nights. Is it strange I don’t want this night to end?

[spam-monster]

Pokemon Scarvi thoughts/theories with the Professors, Arven and Area Zero

Spoilers for the endgame; also featuring original Sun/Moon (not Ultra)* because ~*mommy/daddy issues*~

*Sun/Moon is the only other pokemon game I’ve personally played in full (as opposed to watching Let’s Plays), I tried playing Ultra** but it was too much the same and I prefer the original version of Lusamine so that’s what we’re going with.

**Ultra Recon and Rainbow Rocket would have worked so much better as DLC for the original game instead of being locked behind a remake that came out literally right after the original and I’m very salty that we didn’t get that option until switch games.

My basic theory for the Professor’s backstory is this: Sada and Turo are Arven’s parents in both versions, and they both have the obsessive personality shown. Scarlet!Turo and Violet!Sada both left their partners when Arven was young, and I’m going to say it was because of the other’s obsession. There’s a few variations on this; either:

- They were also obsessed with Area Zero, but they ventured too deep and got trapped somewhere or thrown into another dimension - this is my main theory and it ties into the Lusamine parallels because it means the game’s main professor might have been trying to reach them (we’ll get into that later)

- They also wanted to build a time machine, but were heavily in disagreement over whether it should reach into the past or the future, so much so that they left to do their own research elsewhere and never came back.

- They were not as obsessed as the game’s main professor with Area Zero, completely disagreed with the other’s idea to build a time machine and/or even use the tera energy at all, and left out of frustration. (Why this version wouldn’t have taken Arven, especially since it would make more sense for them to want to keep their son out of Area Zero, is a mystery. Maybe they lost a custody battle idk.)

Anyway the point is that one of them leaves, and the other is left a single parent, and this probably hecks them up, and this is where the Lusamine parallels come in so we’ll address those now: 

- Basically the other parent leaving suddenly sparks an obsession for the remaining parent to fill that gap with something so that their family will be whole again: for Lusamine this caused her to keep messing with the Ultra Wormholes that took Mohn away in a desperate attempt to find him which lead to her getting infected by Nihilego and going crazy, while Sada/Turo try to fill that gap with Paradox Pokemon and their idea of a “paradise” which leads to them becoming so obsessed with keeping the time machine running that they create a bunch of insane security measures to preserve it.

- Lusamine’s infection cases her to become manic and lose any inhibitions or sense of right or wrong or empathy, leading to her completely abandoning the search for her husband and to start treating her children and pokemon as objects that she wants to be perfected. (It’s a really good metaphor for kids having to deal with a parent that develops a mental illness but that’s another discussion)

- Sada/Turo’s obsession causes them to neglect their son, because they’re so enamored with the idea of a past/future “paradise” that will make their family feel whole again that they don’t realize that what Arven actually needs is for his remaining parent to be there with him. I would like to add that I believe that the pokemon behind the whole tera/paradox phenomenon may have been mentally affecting the Professor just as the Ultra Beasts’ toxins affected Lusamine, even further convincing them that keeping the time machine running was the only was to fix everything, causing them to become so paranoid that they create the   Paradise Protection Protocol without even considering that maybe they should have included an override in case their son got caught in it.

- (I have a lot of thoughts on this relating to troubled parents from other media as well, with like Hawkmoth/Gabriel’s obsession with bringing his wife back and Endeavor’s obsession with becoming number one hero and raising a superhero child that didn’t have his weaknesses; basically “if I can achieve this one grand goal it will fix my family/make everything I’ve done worth it in the end”, when it’s the smaller things like consistently being present in your child’s life and supportive of them that would have ultimately meant much more to them than any grand goal and you’re really just doing it for yourself...but this is a POKEMON post and I still haven’t gotten all my theories out yet.)

Actually this is even more interesting of a parallel when you consider what Lusamine tries to do in the endgame - she preserves a bunch of her pokemon in their present forms so that they will stay the same forever, not caring about the past she had with them and stopping them from changing in the future; while Sada and Turo would have destroyed the present ecosystem by bringing back primal pokemon from the past or advanced pokemon from the future because they cared more about those unseen eras than their actual present.

ANYWAY FINALLY GETTING TO MY FIRST THEORY ON WHAT HAPPENED TO ARVEN’S OTHER PARENT

this is where the common “the time machine isn’t actually a time machine it’s just the being responsible for the tera crystals creating “pokemon” based on the Professor’s desires to see past/future pokemon (or pulling them from other dimensions or changing actual pokemon into these paradox forms which is why they’re all so aggressive they’re really just disoriented as hell from dimensional travel/being mutated without consent)” comes into play.

So the “Tera Pokemon”, as I’ll call it, wants to draw humans in and get them obsessed with using it’s power for some unknown reason. It first gets into Scarlet!Turo/Violet!Sada’s head and gets them to leave their newly created family in order to chase their idea for a time machine so they can travel to the future/past, but they end up getting sucked into a wormhole or something before they can get very far with it - possibly ending up in a pocket dimension, or somewhere else in the world but with memory loss? (It is also possible that they actually time travel, but presumably the Tera Pokemon can’t actually do that so maybe another Legendary causes it in that case idk.)

So then game version Sada/Turo comes in also researching Area Zero but maybe also trying to figure out what actually happened to their partner after they left, and the Tera Pokemon gets to them and convinces them that if they succeed in creating the time machine they’ll be able to find their partner and restore their family. In other theories where the partner just left, the Tera Pokemon may have instead tried to convince them that creating their “paradise” would cause S!Turo/V!Sada to see that Sada/Turo was right all along and convince them to come back.

I know that the line about “three of us” living together in paradise is taken to mean the game Professor, Arven, and either the ‘Ridon or Mabosstiff; but what if it was meant to be Arven and both his parents? The past, present and future family and pokemon all living together in harmony?

But then if we go with the theory that the Tera Pokemon can’t actually mess with time travel like some of the other legendaries can, the question arises: where did the AI professor end up after going through that portal at the end of the story?

My theory is that they actually end up in a wormhole/pocket dimension inhabited by the Tera Legendary, and maybe even meet up with S!Turo/V!Sada on the other side. And that’s one of the places we’ll go in the endgame (and we’ll bring them back with us somehow because let this poor boy have parents even if one of them’s a corrupted AI and the other one’s got amnesia or whatever).

And also this Pokemon/phenomena is tied to other legendary Pokemon/phenomena like Mega Evolution and Z-Moves and Dynamaxing and giant boss Pokemon because there’s a lot of similar themes like form changes and type changes and special moves and crystals and willpower and maybe it’s just a bunch of legendary “Pokemon”/creatures tapping into human’s collective unconscious to see what they think is cool and affecting pokemon based on that idk.

That’s my thought’s for now. I might post some bits separately and I’ll also probably make more theories when new DLC stuff comes out, but for now I’m done and I’m gonna go find some sweet herb for my teacher and do job evaluations and whatever.

(Wait one more thing the History Teacher is gonna have some kinda evil plot in the DLC maybe even trying to use the Time Machine again, and also let us overthrow La Primera and put Larry in charge plz)

ok bye. Thanks for reading my insane rants.

[ardenssolis]

@soverina said (inbox):

in the opulent chambers of her king, the velenosian royal occupies free time by nestling against anhur, the majestic lion lounging on luxurious cushions. delicate fingers gently run through thick mane, pampering feline with affectionate nuzzles. “ you deserve all the treats in the world for being such a good protector! ” she turns to husband, “ wouldn’t you agree, darling? ” as hands continue to delicately stroke the large feline’s mane, a shadow eventually crosses angelic features. the room, once filled with playful energy, then takes on a more somber tone. “ but… i can't help but sometimes think about the inevitable… ” stare finds ozymandias’s once more, a touch of sadness to them. a beauty that resided within clear depths expose the raw authenticity of her vulnerability, a testament to the profound connection she’d come to share with husband’s loyal companion. �� i adore anhur, i don’t want to confront any reality that one day he won't be here… ” a wistful sigh escapes roseate lips while scratching beneath the lion's chin, “ it's silly, i know, but the thought of losing my precious anhur one day really makes my heart ache… "

     AH. PEACH WAS FEELING the same way he was. Despite understanding that the inevitable could not be avoided – that one day his companion would no longer to do the things he so easily did now due to age – the thought was still a painful one that he loathed to ponder. Anhur had been given to him as a gift from his father, his way of showing how proud he was of his growth as a prince. After all, the lion was a symbol of royalty, of kingship. He didn’t need his father to go into detail to know what this meant, and so proudly, happily, he had thanked him for it. His gaze lingered upon both Peach and Anhur, the great lion growling deeply within their throat at the caresses and nuzzles, returning his own with a brush of his chin along Peach’s hand, no doubt to mark his scent upon her so that everyone was aware that she was his favorite person. Such made Ozymandias’ lips curl into an amused smile before he managed to speak. ❝You are not the only one. For each year that passes, I know that is a year closer to the end.❞

     He was far too used to Anhur’s presence be that on the battlefield or outside of it, though the lion had taken to being with Peach more as of late. Even so, sometimes when he was in his study reading letters and the like, Anhur would come and rest within his room, keeping him company. To imagine that gone… it was a hard thing to ponder. ❝However,❞ he continued, book closing with a soft thump, ❝it would not be fair to him if we just sat and doomed and gloomed his very existence. He would want us to focus on the present. So, we should make every moment with him count.❞ It was what he deserved, after all. He had even convinced Peach to no longer balk when he brushed against her, but to instead, reach out to him instead. Truly, there would never be any other like Anhur.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

They Call Me Wicked (That Makes Me Glad) (pt 1/?)

That’s right! This is my Light Sides VKs AU!

[Next>]

Word Count: 2016

Rating: teen

Pairings: platonic Anxceit (they’re engaged, but they’re just best friends)

Since it’s the first part I’ll just let you know right now that the endgame ships are Moceit, Analogical, and Rosleep

Warnings: minor swearing, misgendering (by people who he’s not out to), arranged engagement, yelling

~~~START~~~

“Are your shoes polished enough? Maybe we should find you a different pair. And this coat! Are you sure it fits well in the shoulders? You’re a growing prince and you need to–” 

Janus was resolved to standing perfectly still until his mother finally satisfied herself. She’d been nervous about this party all day and now that it was finally here, her nervous energy had somehow dialed up to an eleven.  

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d react once it was time for his actual wedding — much less his coronation! 

“I think he looks very handsome,” a new voice cut in, the mocking tone subtle enough that only Janus would be able to pick it up. “Not a hair out of place.” 

“Annie!” Mother gasped, all but launching herself at the newcomer, pulling them into a fierce hug.  

Janus and ‘Annie’ exchanged a commiserative look over Queen Belle’s shoulder.  

Thank you, Janus mouthed. He received a smirk in return.  

“You look splendid darling, absolutely splendid!” Mother gushed, pulling away slightly to look over Janus’s fiancée’s dress. “I’m so glad that Janus decided to pop the question!” 

“Decided” wasn’t exactly accurate. Janus and ‘Annie’ had been promised to each other since birth, all Janus had done was fulfill his duty and propose to his best friend in the most sickeningly romantic way that both of them had hated with a passion, but had made their mothers swoon. Neither of them got a choice, they had to be the perfect prince and princess that their parents expected.  

For now, at least. Once Janus was crowned King in two months, he could change things.  

The only thing that stopped Janus’s mother from fretting over ‘Annie’ the way she’d been fretting over Janus was King Adam’s arrival.  

“Come, my dear, it’s time to join the party.” Belle was at her husband’s side in an instant, gazing up at him with the same love and adoration she always had when looking at her true love, her husband that she’d chosen herself.  

(Janus was not upset at the hypocrisy, what would make you say that?) 

“We’ll see you two in a minute,” Belle smiled. “You’ll do great!” 

Adam said nothing, but he shot Janus a look that said “make me proud, son,” before he and his Queen turned to the ornate doors that led out to the top of the grand staircase in the ballroom. The doors were opened seconds later, and a harold could be heard announcing “his majesty, King Adam, and her majesty, Queen Belle.” 

The doors shut after the King and Queen, leaving Janus and his fiancé alone.  

“Boring, outdated pageantry,” Virgil huffed as soon as they were gone, slouching over so far that Janus might think he was about to fall over if he didn’t know the other prince so well. “Think anyone would notice if we just blew this whole party off?” 

“Considering it is a party for us,” Janus smirked, barely holding in a chuckle. “I think people would notice. It’s a shame Flora didn’t let you keep the purple, it suited you well,” he mused, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind Virgil’s ear.  

Two days ago, Virgil had convinced Merryweather to turn his hair purple — a compromise since no one would allow him to cut his hair short. Unfortunately, Flora had seen it and changed it back before his parents — or heaven forbid, his grandparents — saw it.  

Virgil grumbled again, but a page knocked on the door before he could reply. That was the signal, in thirty seconds, the doors would be opened, and “his highness, Prince Janus and his fiancée, Princess Annabel” would be announced to Auradon for the first time.  

Janus sighed and offered his right hand, palm up to Virgil as was traditional. Virgil in turn would place his left hand, palm down over it, showing off his engagement ring.  

The engagement ring was one of the only things that Janus was allowed to pick out himself… mostly. He’d chosen the black band with inlaid gems himself, but the yellow sapphires were his family’s stone, and a nonnegotiable feature of the ring. The black hadn’t been well received by either of their families, but Janus had pretty successfully argued that the black would make the golden gems standout all the more.  

(And while it was true that the black complimented the yellow well, the actual reason was to fit in better with Virgil’s emo aesthetic.)  

The pair only had time to plaster pleasant smiles over their mutual loathing of the entire event before the doors were opened and the harold was announcing them.  

They held their position at the top of the stairs for a moment as the guests — made up almost entirely of the other (lesser) kings, queens, princes, and princesses of Auradon — clapped politely.  

They were a striking pair.  

Virgil in a dress made to call back upon his mother’s old dress from her sixteenth birthday, though more modern and in his usual purple (a compromise reached long ago by Flora and Merryweather), with small details of black and gold meant to compliment both Janus and the ring. His long golden hair flowed down his back in loose curls with only his mother’s old crown as decoration. His golden heels, though taller than he would have liked, still only put him at Janus’s nose.  

And Janus in his fitted golden suit with a purple silk button up underneath and black details that complimented the ring. His usual bowler hat was replaced with his crown, showing off the soft brown waves of his hair. His black dress shoes were — despite his mother’s fretting — polished within an inch of their life.  

Only once the applause died down did Janus and Virgil make their way down the grand — and way too tall, in Virgil’s opinion — staircase. They didn’t so much as pause at the base of the stairs, instead they continued on to the very center of the ballroom where they stopped.  

There, the newly engaged couple turned to each other. Virgil moved his left hand to Janus’s shoulder, and Janus moved his right hand to Virgil’s waist. As their free hands interlaced, the band struck up a waltz.  

The crowd was silent during the first dance, everyone watching the couple closely — some gazes were scrutinizing, some were bored, most were politely interested.  

The first song flowed seamlessly into the second, and neither Janus nor Virgil missed a single step as other couples started dancing around them, their parents included.  

After a few more songs, Janus and Virgil were allowed — by social convention — to leave the dance floor and begin mingling. Virgil’s left hand was once again on display as Janus led him off the dance floor and towards the refreshments.  

“Congratulations you two,” Fairy Godmother said, intercepting them before they’d managed to reach the food and drink. “You make a beautiful couple and Auradon will surely thrive under your rule.” 

Honestly, Janus wished she didn’t sound so cheerful and earnest all the time. If she were anyone else, he would think that the sugar-fairy routine was an act, but unfortunately, he’d known Fairy Godmother long enough to know that she genuinely was just that saccharine.  

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” Janus smiled, knowing that the only person who would be able to tell how forced it was was Virgil.  

“If you need a dress for the wedding, Annie, I know I’ve mostly retired the old wand, but it does make excellent dresses.” 

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother, but I think Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather are expecting to be in charge of the dress,” Virgil said, just barely managing not to grimace at the mention of yet another dress.  

“Well, if either of you need anything–” 

“We know where to find you,” Janus finished.  

“Just so!” Fairy Godmother agreed. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure everyone here is eager to congratulate you. Goodbye, dears!” 

“Goodbye.” 

They didn’t even get a chance to take a single step before someone else was sidling up to them. Fake smiles plastered in place, Janus and Virgil prepared for what would surely be a long night.  

They never did make it to the refreshment table; the only reprieve they got from greeting well-wishers was dancing, and the only reprieve they got from dancing was greeting well-wishers. By the time it was time for Janus — and by extension, Virgil — to take the stage, both princes were thoroughly exhausted.  

“People of Auradon!” Janus said into the microphone. A hush fell over the crowd.  

It was time for Janus to make his first royal declaration, and Virgil, as his fiancé, would be by his side for it. Societal convention now allowed for Janus to no longer be holding Virgil’s hand in his own in an incredibly unnatural way, but rather for Virgil to hold on to Janus’s arm, engagement ring still on display, but no longer the focal point.  

“After much deliberation with my parents, my fiancée, and other trusted officials, I have decided what my first official proclamation will be.”  

The audience hung on Janus’s every word. The first proclamation was an exciting time, it often told the kingdom exactly what kind of king or queen a royal would be — kind, ruthless, practical. The whole precedence for Janus’s rule would be determined right here.  

Only Virgil and Janus himself knew what exactly was coming; Janus was almost as excited for the backlash his proclamation would receive as he was for the actual proclamation itself.  

“As future King of the United Kingdoms of Auradon, I officially decree that the children of the Isle of the Lost be granted the chance to live here in Auradon!” 

A gasp ran through the crowd, and Janus held up his free hand to quiet them down. Virgil squeezed his arm slightly — in reassurance or in anxiety, he wasn’t sure.  

“We start out with a few at first,” Janus continued, raising his voice over the few people who had continued whispering nervously to each other. “Just the ones that need our help the most. I’ve already chosen them.” 

This was it; this was the part where the shit would hit the fan, but Janus was ready, and he was strong in his conviction. This was the right choice.  

“Their parents are Evil Queen–” out of the corner of his eye he saw Snow White faint “–Jafar–” Abu sputtered indignantly “–Gaston–” his mother’s glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble floor “–and Maleficent!” 

The crowd lost it, everyone was talking all at once, asking questions of each other, of Virgil, of him, but Janus pushed on.  

“Their children are innocent!” He yelled, barely audible over the party’s guests. “They deserve a chance at a normal life!” 

“THE CHILDREN OF OUR SWORN ENEMIES!?” His father roared, causing the audience to fall silent under his temper.  

“Their children are innocent,” Janus repeated, calmly. “Why should they be imprisoned for crimes that they did not commit?” 

King Adam’s face twitched, and Janus knew he had him. He’d backed his father into a corner.  

Agree with me, or become the villain yourself.  

“I supposed the children are innocent,” he finally acquiesced, his voice booming enough on its own to carry across the room without a microphone. “Very well, four children from the Isle will be granted the opportunity to come live in Auradon.” 

Janus smiled. He led Virgil off the stage, hoping the stunned silence would finally allow them to get some food, but his parents intercepted them halfway there.  

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Janus,” father growled.  

“I do,” Janus answered, meeting his father’s gaze evenly.  

“I’m so proud of you, Janus,” mother said warmly, squeezing his free arm.  

“Thank you, mother. Now, if you’ll both excuse us, Annie and I haven’t been able to get a bite of food all night.” 

“Of course.” 

“Are you happy?” Virgil asked once they’d cleared his parents.  

“Very,” Janus smirked as they finally reached the finger foods and punch. “I have a very good feeling about this.” 

~~~END~~~

I got really excited about this idea, and then I wrote like 3k in one day, but it took me several days to have enough time to get my laptop out and edit, so I’ve already got three chapters finished

I’m gonna get the next part up pretty quickly cuz I’m just really excited for you guys to meet the others!!!

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously. 

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

[funkymbtifiction]

Hello! I'm 100% sure that i m an INFP and I think I'm soc dom. I also know that my tritype consists of 496 but i have no idea of the order. I think 6 might be last. When learning about enneagram as a teenager i was convinced to be a 4...

It seems like this is a question of having a merging 9 and a 4 in close proximity to each other, so it becomes a question of -- how does 9 affect 4 core, and vice versa? I don't have much experience with 9 fixed 4s, but I do know of several 4-fixed 9s and I can intuit the rest.

4 wants to be authentic to itself at any cost. 9 wants to go along to keep the peace. 4 running the show means 9 becomes a protective layer behind the 4, which wants to maintain a sense of differentiation from others. You are not me, you can't understand me, you can't fix me (I don't want to be fixed; being fixed makes me a normie like others). 9 just wants to be calm. Not to be a peacemaker, but for YOU to stop upsetting me. 4 and 9 are both "selfish" in that regard, because the passive resistance and ignoring of the 9 is really just saying "you are not worth my energy / energetic investment." And 4 is absorbed in their own feelings. So, a 4-9 is going to ignore and refuse to deal with anything that challenges their perception of themselves. They aren't going to "adapt" to fit in, but they are going to adopt stubborn resistance to the idea of being changed or solving their problems. It might help you to look at attachment (9) vs frustration (4).

4s are frustrated all the time. Those in the frustration traid focus on what's wrong or missing more than what's there or what's positive. The 1 focuses on what's being done wrong / what is wrong by their personal standard (and how it can be fixed by them); the 4 focuses on what is missing in the relationship instead of what's there; the 7 focuses on how things COULD be better or more exciting. There's a story in an Enneagram book (I can't remember which, but it might be Rohr) about a 4 who constantly complained about and found fault with her husband. She was dissatisfied with him all the time; but after he left her, she suddenly longed for him and wanted him back. And when he did come back and she opened the door, she didn't want him anymore. That symbolizes the 4 sense of wanting what they don't have, not what they have; of being frustrated with their lot in life. The 9 fix would mean the 4 doesn't go toward people, and instead is passively supportive of their own frustration.

By contrast, a 9 will attempt to go along with other people, because their attachment is automatic. Attachment in this sense means that others thoughts, feelings, and needs can rub off on the 9 (more so a 9w1 than a 9w8 if Fi-dom), and that a 4-fixed 9 will feel that they SHOULD be more expressive about their true unhappiness and feelings, but that they will often tone it down so that they don't have to put up with the bother of others being upset and causing them internal angst. They don't want to be angstful, they don't want others to make them angry, but they are angry a lot -- either consciously or unconsciously. They are angry about being passive, about being taken advantage of, and about anyone pushing their buttons or not allowing them to live in a place of inner calm. 9-4 can have intense moods and feelings, be negative and envious, but they are more approachable to others due to their attachment status.

The INFP 9w8 with a 4 fix I know can be very negative, critical, and refuse to go along with things; she is instantly angry and reactive (8 wing and 4 fix) and doesn't want to be fixed, forced to conform, etc. But her reaction is not to project an image like a heart type; it's to get mad and throw up boundaries or log off the chat box for the night. That's her 9w8-ness coming through loud and clear.

The 496 I knew was always complaining about everything, in a passive-frustrated tone; if you offered her a solution to a problem, she would turn it around and find a way that wouldn't help, so she could stay frustrated.

It's also helpful to look at stress lines -- 9 moves to 6 and becomes self-doubting (consulting others and fearful of their intentions / loyal to loved ones); the 4 moves to 2 and becomes egocentric about all the reasons why you SHOULD love me for being so fabulous.

Since hurting people is one of your main concerns, along with assuming the best of them and feeling disappointed if they let you down (perhaps 9w1 frustration in people not being better?), being conflict-avoidant, pleasant and congenial, and having others confide in you easily expecting sympathy leads me to think 9 core.

Makes me think i'm a core four:

My worst traits are four traits: when i'm feeling bad i am blind to the suffering of others: no one is suffering like i am, no one knows pain as i know it. I always want what i don't have, but when i achieve it it doesnt make me happier and i stop caring about it but if i don't get it i become very frustrated. I also feel very humiliated when reading about type four, it makes me think i'm completely unlovable and that this must be the worst enneagram type

Is it because you are seeing the raw nature of yourself in the 4 description (and how this has ruined your life up to this point), or are you attaching to it like a 9 would and then judging yourself with a 1 wing super-ego that says being a 4, being negative, etc., is BAD? It sounds like the latter (4-ness is bad!!).

I'm mostly sweet, helpful, friendly, happy and keep my dark thoughts and feelings to myself to not disrupt the mood of a situation, to spare the feelings of others i also often keep it to myself if they hurt me. I hate the thought that i could make someone miserable or that someone i love could feel guilty bc of me. I want to be seen as sensitive, kind and understanding

This does sound 9 core, yes.

I dislike conflict, i'm very scared of losing ppl if i criticism them, in arguments of others i often feel like i can see both sides

9 again. (Seeing multiple sides. Compared to 4: Eww, that is hideous and I hate it. There's no compromising if I hate it.)

I hate deadening my feelings, i try to enhance my feelings even the bad ones. Of course i want to be happy but i'd rather be miserable than not feeling anything at all. I don't stay calm in an argument, i explode and can become very hurtful and accusatory if i am under a lot of stress and pressure

This is consistent with 9-4 / Fi-dom. There's no off switch for a Fi-dom's emotional state. They filter everything through their feelings.

I constantly self doubt, i need a lot of reassurance, i overthink everything, i have a weird relationship to authority where on the one hand i want to rebel and on the other hand i want to influence them in a way that makes them fond of me. I kind of want them to like me even if i dont like them.

An attachment core definitely feels this way, either 6 or 9.

I don t feel like the everyday man at all, i tend to alternate between feeling very connected to humankind (which makes me very happy, it's a beautiful and warm feeling) but still in an individualistic way and feeling completely cut off from others like there is an unbridgable difference between us that cannot be crossed, like no one could understand me even if they tried their most (i feel like this when i'm miserable)

9 flowing toward 4.

Thank you for all the great work you ve put into your tumblr! :) it has helped me very much! I wish you a great day!

Thanks. I'm glad you find it useful. :)

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

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Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

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**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[athena-simpingforanimemen]

Something to Consider

Chapter One | Sometime In 2007

Chapters| One Two Three Four Five

Synopsis| Having a special technique that hasn’t been passed down in over a 100 years, you’ve been amongst the strongest since birth but with no clan of your own to clam this technique. It causes the Clans to offer arranged marriages left and right. Overwhelmed parents turn to your aunt's clan and the Zenin’s are happy to step in, in hopes you will pass down the technique down to them.

Whole story contains themes| arranged marriage, angst, violence, death, swearing? sexual harassments(nothing crazy) and of course SMUT. 

Authors note| This is about the road to marrying Gojo, it’s gonna be long and filled with angst because I'm mean. This story starts with the reader being around 11ish. Has a little bit of manga spoilers from vol.8 because it has Toji. Hope you like it. This is written for my two whore best friends. :)

Sitting in the back of a black sedan, the rain and some random talk radio station playing softly. The sounds of the rain on the roof made you sleepy. You let out a sigh, pressing your head against the window, watching as the water droplets race. You had just gotten out of school when you heard your mothers fussing through the thick wood of the front door. Not even getting the chance to greet her, she was already on you about changing into something nice; tossing clothes around in a hurry. Your father on the other hand was calm, casually chatting with you while your mother rushed around in a tizzy.

You didn’t have the time to ask what this was about or why you needed to hurry before your mother pushed you into the car with Suzuki. Suzuki was your personal driver and bodyguard appointed by the Zenin clan. She was always so kind and patient, putting up with your snappy comments and pre-teen attitude. Even when you were being difficult she never got upset with you. You never understood why she was appointed to such a low grade job. She was incredibly strong. What was all the fuss about you and your technique anyway?

Suzuki taking you to the Zenin Estate after school was a common occurrence, usually it was for training but today it seemed more important than just that. You were your parents' prized possession because the Zenin clan convinced them of it. Your parents weren’t sorcerers but your mothers family was long ago. They possessed The Divine Panther, it hadn’t been passed down in over 100 years and by some miracle you got it. The Zenin’s took the opportunity, hoping you would pass it down into their clan but that wasn’t completely up to them. Not like they treated you like you were special. Pushing you so hard to master your technique while most of them looked down upon you. Most likely because your cursed energy was “weird” as Noaya said. Most of the youth are scared to train with you. So why train when everyone is already scared of you in the first place? The Zenin’s didn’t even fully understand your technique or so they say but they knew you were strong. Special grade strong, up there with the six eyes. “But just appearing strong isn’t the same as being strong.” Noaya would always say to you. I’m sure someone older and wiser than him told him that. Those words are far too sophisticated for a boy like him. 

“Where are we even going, Suzuki-san?” you ask, moving your head from the window. 

She looked at you through the rearview mirror as she spoke. “We are headed to the Zen’in residence, they wanted you to attend a clan meeting. Did your parents not tell you?” 

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “No, they were too busy picking out clothes and telling me how to properly greet people, like I don't know how to.”  Shifting your kimono as you grumble. “I’m not even a Zenin. Why do they want me there?” 

“I’m sure they just want to include you.” She smiled in assurance.

She wasn’t wrong, but for some reason you didn’t like the feeling you got. It wasn’t that they wanted to include you in a clan meeting. The clan meeting was about you. They wanted you to marry one of theirs for the gain of power but they weren’t the only clan that wanted it. It was like a bidding war. It wasn’t really up to them, it was up to your parents in the end and the Zenin’s would do anything to sway them their way. A nice home, the best schools, private drivers. It was all just a ploy to get them to agree to an arranged marriage. 

The soft sound of the radio and the rain made the ambiance of the car relaxing, distracting you from the scenery slowly turning  into landmarks you didn’t recognize, the winding road getting more and more wooded as she drove. 

“Well, now where are we going?” You question, bringing your attention up to her. “You’re not gonna murder me right?” 

Your comment makes her chuckle. “No, I wouldn't dream of it!” The car turned into a long driveway. “I forgot to mention I had to stop at Jujutsu High to pick up Gojo Satoru.”

“A Gojo? I thought you worked for the Zenins?” Your little eyebrows furrow as you settle back into your previous position against the window. Looking at the well manicured landscaping as The car comes to a stop outside a large stair walkway that looks like it leads far into the woods. 

“I work for a few people. I have to drop him off for something.” 

“Something? Like what?”

“Well, that is not my business.” She shrugged. 

Your attention was brought to the stairs, watching as a tall, white haired boy ran down the steps with his hands in his black uniform. He looked smug wearing sunglasses in the rain. His cursed energy grew stronger as he approached the car. Your head turned back to the window as he got closer. Seconds later the car door opened. Watching his reflection in your window as he got in. His cursed energy was strong, stronger than yours. You could see him look over at you through the reflection of the car window. 

“Oh man, it's really pouring isn't it Suzuki-San?” He said, leaning forward to greet her. 

He smelled like expensive cologne and hard candies. Almost like he had melted ones in his pocket. Suzuki turned around to look at him with an expression you have never seen. 

“Hello, Gojo.” She smiled, leaning her arm on the middle console. 

Your head still resting against the car window, watching the interaction. Pre-teen angst stirring around your aura. This isn’t worth missing your favorite show and you have to talk to people you don’t really like in the most uncomfortable kimono to ever exist. Now you have to watch Suzuki swoon over this Gojo guy. You had a good feeling he might be annoying, usually you’re pretty good at reading people and he seemed full of himself. The whole thing makes you want to just jump out of the car. 

He leaned back in his seat as Suzuki started driving. He gave off an interesting energy to say the least, intimidating in a way but you felt a childishness that radiated off of him making you assume he couldn’t be much older than you. Not only that, he was texting someone; the clicking of his phone slightly irritating.  Yeah, you weren’t a fan. He definitely was going to be annoying. 

“You shouldn’t run down stairs with your hands in your pockets.” You stated.

Watching his fuzzy reflection pause, his attention moving to you. A smile grew on his face as he looked at you. All angsty and pretending to be uninterested. Don’t think you're the only one who can feel cursed energy and read people. He felt yours far before he got into the car and by the looks of it, you would be fun to mess with.

“Hm and why is that?” He placed his phone in his lap. What an interesting way to greet a stranger. 

“You really don’t know?” You looked over at him with a scowl, only to be met with an amused smile and sunglasses. 

“Nope.” he shook his head. “You shouldn’t start a conversation so harshly. Maybe try with your name next time.”

Oh, another Naoya? Fun. You thought. The way he spoke was like he was mocking you. So smug like you should be grateful to be in his presence and you couldn’t stand it. “You shouldn’t wear sunglasses inside, it's rude, plus it's raining.” 

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “It is raining, good job kid.” 

“Whatever.” You turned away. Mostly to stop yourself from starting something that would get you in trouble. 

“You know.” he pondered, finger tapping his chin. “If you treat people this way, you won't find a husband.” You felt him lean over to you, hand resting uncomfortably close to your leg but moving away would let him know you were affected by his actions and the more you react the more they keep being annoying. You learned that from Naoya.

“Oh, I don’t want one.” You stated, looking at him. “I-um.”  The second part of your snarky comment dying on the tip of your tongue. The edges of his lips turned up into a cheeky smirk, crystal blue eyes and white eyelashes peaking over the rim of his black sunglasses. In all honesty It made you shut up, his closeness made you lose your edge and Gojo ate it up. He noticed how your posture changed ever so slightly, shifting around nervously as you tried to remember your sarcastic comment. Gojo was right, you would be fun to tease. 

“Go on?” He teased, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You didn’t answer. Scrunching your nose at him. His close proximity made you blush. Why did that make you nervous? It’s not like he was that handsome. (This is a lie, he is very handsome. Unfortunately.) 

“Satoru.” Suzuki’s soft voice cut in, her head shaking lightly as she looked at the pair of you through her mirror. Her expression was sharp as Gojo made eye contact with her. He then looked back at your flush face before falling back against his seat with a sigh. Suzuki’s looks speak a thousand words but she must have known him well for her to address him like that. You were just grateful she saved you, the blush on your face fading while the sounds of talk radio filled the silence in the car.

Your thoughts brought you to the Zen’in clan meeting. You really didn’t care too much about these things, everyone was always so pretentious, always going on about something you pretended to listen to.  Noaya was the worst, of the younger ones that is. Always bullying everyone, especially the girls. He was so vulgar about it too but It didn’t bother you the way he wanted or at least you didn’t show it. Plus it was too much fun to watch his reactions. Boys like him need to be kicked down a peg or two anyway. A/N:(Or be pegged..hehehe)

“Suzuki-san? Do you think Noaya will be there today?” You question breaking the silence. 

“I’m sure he will, why do you ask?” 

“No reason.” you sigh.

Gojo glanced over at you. “Is that your boyfriend or sumin’?” 

“Ew No.” You shook your head. “He calls me a dog or... other things.. So, I bite him.”

“Ya’ one of those weird kids?” He chuckled.

“No. But if you're going to call someone a dog, don't act surprised when they bite you.” You shrug. He was silent, looking at you over his glasses with amusement— you did have a point.

“You’re kinda proving my point here.”

“If you knew him you would understand, he definitely deserves it.” 

“Mhm.” Gojo nodded, turning back to his phone. It was quiet again before he spoke. 

“Well, he's probably just got a crush on you.” 

“Ugh, I hope not.” You say with disgust. “Plus, I don't think you would say the things he says to someone you like.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’d rather not repeat them.” 

The car parking ended your conversation. You had stopping in a part of town you’ve never seen, It was fairly creepy. No bus stops or open stores, just abandoned stores and warehouses. You heard Gojo let out a small sigh before he unbuckled and opened the door, the sound of the rain filled the car as he got out.

“Where are you going?” you ask. “Why are you getting out here? It's creepy.” 

You had leaned over the middle seat to speak to Gojo, looking up at his tall frame as he stepped out. “Wait? Don’t tell me you actually like me?” He said, you could practically hear the smirk on his lips as he spoke.

“No, I’m just concerned for my own safety.” You said, smiling up at him a teasing glint in your eye. He chuckled, straightening his jacket as he bent down to look at you. Your Seat-Belt stretched as far as it could go in to speak with him. And for the second time since meeting him he makes you blush. His eyes locked with yours as he spoke, his tone no longer filled with its usual teasing nature. 

“That's probably a good thing.” He smiled, swinging the door shut. 

[pro-birth]

It’s so manipulative and toxic how women have to scramble over themselves to assure their “appreciation” for birth control’s part in “sexual liberation” whenever they mention issues with BC. If a disclaimer is not made on a post discussing BC problems, then people hound it for being “unrealistic” or “ungrateful” or even just plain sexist, all because BC is a sacred cow that can never be criticized for the sake of women’s equity.

Like, no, women were not liberated by birth control: they still got discriminated against for being pregnant, still got sexually harassed, still got raped by their husbands, still endured bad sex because “clitoris” is a bad word (and BC can interfere with sexual pleasure), etc. Discrimination still happened, and we’re still reckoning with the failure of our previous generations.

So many problems got swept under the rug because pregnancy and fertility were made the scapegoat for women’s problems. “You’re not getting hired/accepted into school/respected as a political force because you get pregnant -- take this pill with serious consequences for your health and social well-being, and you’ll finally be free of your own biology!!!”

Really????

Being able to safely avoid a pregnancy is absolutely a part of women’s health, and having access to safe, holistic methods even more important. Being able to make an informed decision on all options available is important. I am not against those things. So don’t even come at me thinking I hate pregnancy prevention and safe access to it.

But that is NOT what women have, even in first world nations in many ways, because not ALL of their options are available. Way too few doctors know about ALL options for family planning (such as fertility awareness based methods), and they also discount women’s voices concerning issues with birth control.

The birth control industry not only has a strong monopoly over women’s health (which influences what medical professionals learn in school), but also has a long racist, sexist history that still harms people today. Side effects of birth control are only just now being taken seriously and research is still pending! After 70 fucking years of treating women like guinea pigs whose health and sexuality is considered second to sexual availability to men! This is the liberation we fought for???

This doesn’t even get into how options for menstrual/reproductive issues like endo or PCOS don’t go beyond “use potent artificial hormones” unless you want a baby, and even then the mainstream fertility treatments are also subpar. Safe and effective non-hormonal birth control and fertility health options exist, but they are NOT common, and it is BECAUSE of the birth control industry’s grip on medicine that they are not more accessible. It is BECAUSE of the devaluation of female biology that BC has caused that women’s medicine suffers. I’m supposed to shut up and lie about how awesome it is that we have birth control for this????

And not only that, but family rights in the workplace and in academia are still a battle being fought today because women are expected to not only use birth control or get an abortion to remain unpregnant in that sexist environment, but to also overwork and overburden themselves to act like they don’t have kids at home to take care of if they want to barely keep up with their childless compatriots. Smoke breaks? Cool! Wanting a stool to sit on while heavily pregnant when working check out lines? Wow you obviously don’t take your job seriously, no raises or job security for you! This is something I am being pressured to celebrate???

There was even a recent article on how breastfeeding Olympians are being told that they can’t take their nursing babies with them to compete (which thankfully was overturned). We’re still acting like women’s biology and their motherhood are subpar and unnecessary, we still have to pressure and waste energy on convincing sexists that we deserve accommodation. In 2021. Because birth control made fertility the problem and potent hormonal casrtration the solution. You really want me to sit there and force a smile for this shit????

Could you imagine how different things would have turned out if fertility awareness were normalized in medicine rather than hormonal methods? If simply not marrying, or abstaining from sexual activity, were also normalized as options? If doctors were given the same funding and support for researching female biology rather than how to suppress it? Would our societal treatment be different? Would our medical care have been decades ahead from how it is now? Would there be less generational trauma for BIPOC women who were subjects of deadly BC trials? Would it have helped with gender relations in the bedroom, schoolroom, workroom?

We don’t know, we can’t know, because even today, our biology is regarded with minimal regard, if not contempt: BECAUSE OF BIRTH CONTROL’S MONOPLY ON OUR BODIES AND HEALTH. You want me to claim I should be grateful for that shit???

I won’t be “””thankful””” for birth control unless birth control becomes a discussion and invitation to ALL methods of family planning and reproductive medical options, and does NOT treat ovulation, pregnancy, and birth like a disease and malformation of female biology. I’m not going to apologize for saying so, because the only thing that bootlicking does is gloss over the very real harms BC has caused.

I will not be thankful for birth control until it’s part in the medical, sexual, and social subjugation of women is finally admitted to and addressed effectively for real changes. Even then, it still won’t be my cup of tea and I am NOT obligated to pretend that I am “grateful” for it.

If you feel the same, then reblog and share your stories. Don’t be silent for the comfort of others. Women need to get their voices back without the demand for “apologies.”

And before someone bitches about how privileged I am to say this when women in third world countries are dying from lack of contraception access: look up neo-imperialism’s effects on forced birth control and eugenics in those countries. Read the stories of women who were told IUD was their only option, who were refused access to fertility awareness, who were unable to get healthcare when they got horrible side effects from their BC, and/or were unable to have their implant removed because the clinic demanded money for it. Like I said: we don’t owe birth control SHIT if this is how it’s used against women.

[sequinsmile-x]

High

Aaron gets hurt protecting Emily. 

For my pal @aubreyprc 

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence/injury. Some cursing. Aaron Hotchner high on pain meds. 

She was going to kill him. 

First, she was going to check he was ok, kiss him until she was sure and then she was going to kill him. 

Emily anxiously twirls her wedding and engagement ring around her finger, attempting to channel her nervous energy into something other than tearing her cuticles apart. A cup of coffee enters her eye line, and she looks up to see Dave standing in front of her, a reassuring smile on his face.

“It probably tastes awful, but at least it’s something.” He says as she takes it from his hand and he sits next to her. “The others are finished at the scene and are on the way.” 

Emily grimaces at the taste of the coffee as she takes a sip, but for a second it distracts her, takes her mind off the fact her husband is an idiot. 

An idiot who she loved more than anything. An idiot who happened to take a knife to the shoulder for her less than an hour ago. 

“He’ll be ok, Emily.” 

She scoffs before taking another sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste again. “He won’t be once I’m finished with him.” She shakes her head and looks at her friend. “Why did he do it, Dave? We’ve been together for years and this has never happened.” 

“The guy had his arms around you and a knife against your throat.” Dave says, his eyes flicking to the tiny cut on her neck. “He would have done the same for any of us.” 

Emily closes her eyes at the memory. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, how she had ended up on the floor and the unsub had his knife in Aaron’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The first thing she was really aware of was a gun going off, Derek taking a well aimed shot at the unsub to disarm him, but not kill him, and Aaron lowering himself to the ground next to her with his hand pressed against his own shoulder. 

She had held him against her as they waited for the paramedics, her hand against the wound and her lips against his forehead as she told him she loved him and how fucking stupid he was in equal measure. 

“I know he would have.” She agrees, knowing it was true. Aaron would do anything for the team, take any of their places if they were in danger. She knew he carried a burden if any of them got hurt, more so if it was her, and it would take weeks for the guilt to fade, for her to be able to convince him that just because he was their leader it wasn’t his fault. “It doesn’t make him less of a self sacrificing asshole.” 

“Em-”

“Maybe you can save the lecture for when I’m not sitting in a hospital waiting room wearing a shirt covered in my husband's blood?” Emily says, an edge to her voice that has Dave hold up a hand in surrender as he takes a sip of his own coffee.

Emily knew Aaron would be ok. He hadn’t lost consciousness once, even when she had sat next to him in the ambulance, his hand grasped in hers as he tried to hide the amount of pain he was in. But he had been so pale, the blood loss making him look weary as he tried to reassure her that everything would be fine. 

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?” 

Emily looks up to see a doctor standing and looking around, a kind look on her face as Emily stood, Dave not far behind her, and walked over. 

“I’m his wife, is he ok?” 

The doctor guides them back over to the waiting area, indicating for Emily to sit down, which she does, feeling anxiety rise through her chest. 

“The stab wound your husband came in with was very deep, and the scans show that the tip of the knife broke off against his clavicle.” The doctor explains gently. “The tip of the knife is still in his shoulder, so we are going to have to do surgery to get it out and close up the wound.” 

Emily felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, memories of when Aaron had been stabbed before, so many years ago now, flooding back in a way that took her breath away.

“Is he going to be ok?” She asks, shrugging Dave’s hand off of her shoulder as he tries to provide some comfort, knowing right now it wouldn’t do her any good.

“There are never any guarantees.” The doctor says, but she smiles at Emily again in a reassuring way. “But he has remained conscious this entire time, and spent a long time trying to convince us he didn’t need pain meds.” 

Emily chokes out a laugh at that. “That sounds about right.” She clears her throat, forces down the emotion trying to claw its way up it. “Can I see him?”

“Of course.” The doctor replies. “I need you to fill out the paperwork too.”

Emily stands and follows the doctor, briefly turning back to Dave. “Can you let the others know?” 

“Of course, bella. You go make sure he’s ok.” 

She follows the doctor to the room Aaron is in, and she blows out a breath when she sees him. The wound to his left shoulder is packed tight and he looks so pale it does nothing to calm her concerns. 

“Sweetheart.” He says as soon as he sees her, a strain to his voice as he tries to hide the pain he is in. She walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it facing him, taking his hand in between hers. “Are you ok?” 

He lifts his good arm to press his thumb to the tiny cut on her neck, the one that had stopped bleeding before the paramedic even arrived, and Emily rolls her eyes at him. 

“I’m fine. And I’m not the one with a piece of a knife stuck in my shoulder, honey.” She scoffs as she straightens the cannula in his nose delivering him oxygen. “You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She leans forward and kisses him, a gentle thing against his lips to remind herself that he is alive, and then she rests her forehead against his. 

“It’s ok. Just don’t do anything stupid like die during surgery.” She says, her smile wavering as tears flood her lash line. “I’d hate to have to bring you back to life just to kill you myself.” 

He laughs at that and it makes him jolt in pain, wincing as the movement makes his shoulder burn. She shushes him, her fingers soft against his cheek. 

There’s a clearing of a throat behind them and Emily turns to see a nurse standing there. 

“We need to take you down now, Agent Hotchner.” 

Emily turns back to Aaron and kisses him, more forceful this time as she tries to pour everything into it. She pulls back and smiles at him. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says, squeezing her hand.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

__________________

The first thing Aaron feels is pain. His shoulder is killing him, a burning sensation lancing all the way down his arm and across his chest. Then he realises how fuzzy his head feels, the tell tell signs of anaesthesia and heavy pain killers in his system, making his brain feel light and heavy at the same time.

He opens his eyes and looks around, unsurprised to see he is in a hospital room. He groans at the light in the room, the brightness of the fluorescent lights making his head swim even more. 

“Aaron.” 

He turns to see Emily sitting next to him, a look of relief on her face. Her presence confuses him, unsure why she was by his side, and why her hand was in his. 

“Prentiss?” He asks, missing the way she frowns when he calls her by her surname. “What happened?” 

“You were stabbed, you had to have surgery.” She stands up, both of her hands now grasped around one of his. She presses a kiss to his cheek and he shrinks backwards, the pain in his shoulder stopping him from moving more. 

“What are you doing?” 

She looks at him, equal parts concern and amusement on her face. “Trying to kiss my husband.” 

“We aren’t married.” He says, and he watches her smile slip away. “That’s mean, Prentiss.” 

Aaron had loved her for years, longer than he had cared to admit. He’d often wondered if she’d felt the same, but this felt cruel. Like she was messing with him when he was so in love with her just having her touch him made his skin feel like it was burning. 

“I could show you our marriage certificate but I don’t carry it with me everywhere we go.” She jokes, a nurse walking in before she could say anything else.

“Oh look who is awake.” The overly cheery nurse says as she sends a smile to Emily. “Your wife was very worried about you.” 

“Not my wife.” Aaron mumbles. Just my beautiful coworker I’m in love with. He thinks, although a small laugh from Emily and the nurse tells him he may well have said it out loud.

“Is he ok?” Emily asks, concern for him sneaking it’s way into her voice. “He knows who I am but keeps insisting that we aren’t married.” 

The nurse finishes checking Aaron’s vitals, making a note on the chart in her hands. “He’s fine, this isn’t totally unusual for someone coming round from anesthetic. I’ve seen some people completely forget who their loved ones are.” She presses a few buttons on one of the machines he is hooked up to. “I’ve set up the next set of meds, so he should sleep soon. Next time he wakes up, try and get him to eat some of the crackers we’ll bring in.”

Emily nods and turns her attention back to Aaron as the nurse leaves. “See, the nurse knows we’re married.” 

“I’d remember marrying you.” He grumbles, eyeing her wedding rings with jealousy. Her husband is a lucky bastard. 

Emily smiles at him, biting her lip to suppress a laugh as he realises he had accidentally spoken out loud again. She pushes some hair off of his forehead, her touch warming him immediately, something familiar about the gesture that his confused brain can’t place. He thinks he sees her get her phone out, but the room is starting to get blurry, his eyes closing against his will. 

“I don’t think you even remember what town we’re currently in, Aaron.” 

“Too pretty to marry me.” He says, his voice thick as the painkillers the nurse had given him start to make him drift to sleep. “Too good.” 

“Go to sleep, love.” She says, a kiss to his forehead as she soothes him. 

He falls asleep to her soft lips against his skin, and he thinks there would be much worse things in the world than being Emily’s husband.

__________________

It takes another couple of hours for him to wake again, and she can immediately tell he’s more lucid this time. A focus in his eyes that hadn’t been present in the few minutes he had been awake earlier.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says, smiling at her in the way he did on their first date, the way it made her feel now no less significant than it had been then. 

“Hi honey.” Emily stands from the chair next to his bed so she can kiss him, and then she settles on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, but leaves it, knowing that she won’t get any further admission of pain from him. “I need to make you eat some crackers.” She says, a smirk on her face as she indicates the package on the table next to him.

He groans, the idea of eating anything making his stomach turn. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. But I’ll give you a few minutes.” 

“I’m your husband, you’re meant to be nice to me.” 

“Oh, so now you remember we’re married?” She asks, a wry smile on her face that develops into a laugh at his confusion

“What?” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later. I took a video.” Her smile fades slightly as she takes in the bandage poking out from his gown, the way his arm was strapped to his chest. 

“I’m ok, Em.” 

“I know.” She says, looking back at his face and giving him a wobbly smile. “Today was rough.” She lifts his hand to her lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “As soon as you are better we’re going to have a conversation about you sacrificing yourself like that for me.” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

Emily shakes her head at him and rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.” 

“But you love me.” 

Emily smiles and kisses him, pulling back just enough to to speak. “I really do.” 

__________________

She shows him the video footage of him in the hospital as soon as they get home, him in their bed on rest for at least a month. She giggles as he tries, and fails, to take her phone from her, his usual strength failing him with one of his arms out of action. 

He promises all sorts of filthy things, once he’s better, in exchange for her deleting the video, which she does in front of him.

It’s only at the office Christmas party a few months later when it pops up in the montage Penelope puts together every year he realises he’s been duped. 

[yikesharringrove]

Agitation (or disturbance of the mind)

Here is my piece for the Harringrove Big Bang!! I’m so so proud of how this piece turned out and I’m so excited to share it! @harringrovebigbang

Read on Ao3 (highly recommended. It’s over 16k).

Special thanks to my beta readers @thinger-strang @crispysteve without whom this story would’ve been scrapped in many fits of emotions.

Art for this story to be linked soon by @thedogsled

Check out this amazing moodboard by @memes-saved-me !!

Enjoy!

-

Steve Harrington is a liar. 

He always has been. 

Nearly everything about him is a perfectly crafted facade. 

From the story of his family’s move to Hawkins when he was eight, to the smile that slides easily onto his face when he tells Robin I’m fine. 

Steve is a liar. 

But it's all out of necessity. All for the greater of some good he isn’t all that clear on anymore. 

It was always about protection. 

Protecting his friends and everyone in Hawkins from the truth about Hawkins National Laboratory. 

Then it was about protecting himself from his powers. 

From the way his words had a knack of worming their way into someone’s brain. Of setting up shop inside and clanging around until they could do nothing but bow to his suggestion. 

Just because he could get his way with the right inflection and the telltale shiver down his spine, didn’t mean that that was okay. 

It was drilled into him the first night he arrived in Hawkins. 

After his file was stamped with a large red mark that read defective, he was given to one of the scientists and her husband. 

The Harringtons. 

A normal new family from Eastern Oklahoma. 

That’s what they told everyone. 

That’s what they made sure Steve parroted to everyone in his brand new school. 

His new father took a cigar to the tattoo on his wrist, welting the flesh with an ugly burn. He ignored Steve’s screams and tears. 

You have to fit in here, Steven, he had said, the cigar smoldering between his fingers, Steve clutching his wrist, eyes shining with tears. You have to fit in and be normal. 

So Steve lied. 

He smiled and told everyone he came from a normal family from normal Oklahoma. He said that he lived in a normal house, and read normal books, and played normal sports. 

And he tried, and failed, to convince himself the lab was a dream.

-

“We should do something after this.”

Steve was careful to keep his voice casual. He didn’t want to let Robin in on how much he was dreading returning to his empty house tonight. 

Robin didn’t acknowledge him. She was sorting the returned movies, placing them in piles of genre so they could easily be returned to their proper section. 

Steve quietly lifted his leg, and lightly kicked her hip. 

She glared at him. 

“Quit ignorin’ me. Just say yes, or no.” It’s not like if she said no it would crush him or anything. No. It’s fine. 

“I just have a bunch of homework that’s all, like, due tomorrow,” she said it slowly, as though telling him a beloved relative had died. 

Was it that obvious how lonely he is?

“Don’t worry about it, Buck.” Robin took school real serious. She had perfect grades every year and had already applied to sixteen colleges and universities, including four Ivy League options. 

So Steve didn’t blame her for not skulking around with him. 

With college-less, nowhere bound Steve. 

“I’m really sorry,” she began, getting that sad look in her eye like that night in the mall bathroom when Steve spilled his drugged-out guts. Literally, and metaphorically. 

“Nah, I was just lookin’ for something to do. It’s okay, Robin. Really.”

And it was. 

Almost. 

It’s just that, Steve’s not got a lot going for him right now. 

He’s got a big empty house, and a brain that likes to give him excessive nightmares, and one age-appropriate friend in the whole place. 

But he doesn’t wanna talk about all that shit. 

And Robin looked like there was something on the tip of her tongue. Something her teeth were barely holding back. 

So Steve just scooped up the stack of neatly ordered Action films, and made his way over to the far shelf, taking himself out of the situation before it would get to a place that would only make him lie more and more. 

Robin means well. He knows she does. 

It just feels like a lot of her well-meaning chats end up with Steve lying through his fucking teeth and Robin nearly in tears of frustration at his lack of openness with her. 

She feels like being tortured and drugged together gives them a close kind of kinship very few share. 

Steve feels like he’s got just too much fucked-up baggage to dump on her. 

Not when they’re trying to put the Upside Down behind them. 

Not that Steve could ever put it behind him. 

He felt something build in his gut. Something hot and heavy. Something that always meant his powers were scraping at the walls of the neat little cave he had shut them in. Something that meant his skin would burn until he unleashed some of his pent-up energy. 

He took a deep breath, blowing out the air slowly through his nose. 

He had rules to his power. Rules he had given himself, mostly. Things he’d never use his powers for. 

He tried to avoid his powers at all costs, but he had seen what could happen if he tried to tamp them down. It was less dangerous to open the lid of the box just a tiny bit. 

Especially if he did it right. 

He made his way back over to Robin, finding that spot in his brain that made a shudder zip down his spine. The spot that was made of cold and electric heat. 

It was always too simple when he let the power take over. 

Locate her feeling. Let him consume him. 

And then just, twist it as much as he wants. 

“Robin,” he spoke slowly, honing his suggestion. “You don’t have to feel bad about not spending time with me tonight.”

He felt her sadness and guilt about the evening recede about as fast as the tide. 

She really shouldn’t feel bad about ditching him, especially not when her education is the main priority. 

He matched her lazy grin, wiping his nose discreetly, only a small drop of blood smeared against his hand. 

The rest of the shift passed without incident, and the roaring feeling in Steve’s gut had been sated enough for the time being. 

So he pushed it back out of his mind, and returned to his empty house. 

He was saving up to get his own place. He really was. But it was easier this way. He didn’t pay any bills, had lots of space to himself, and a pool in the backyard (that he never used). 

And it’s hard for him to explain, but there’s something tugging him back into this house all the time. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s the only home he ever knew after the pain and fear that was his childhood in the lab, or if it’s something else that makes him feel tethered to the too-big house. 

Sometimes he thought there was a sense of safety in the old place. 

With parents that spent excessive amounts of time doing research for things he didn’t understand but was sure were important, it was largely an emotion-free place. 

Which was good for Steve. 

High emotion situations made his power boil up and spill over the edge like a pot of water on the stove. 

A place like his empty house, he could keep everything in check. Not get his feelings tangled with those around him. Not catch thoughts that were just beginning to be molded into something brand new. 

He clambered into bed, punching his pillows around in a way that was decidedly not petulant. 

There was a steady silence in the old house. A silence that was as depressing as it was easy on his brain. 

And there wasn’t silence. 

Creaks. 

Creaks issuing from downstairs. From the floorboards in the hallway. 

Footsteps. 

Steve was out of bed in a second, bat held aloft in as close to ready position as he could maintain while bolting down the stairs in his socks and faded green gym shorts. 

He knew how to navigate the house without a sound. Practice of tip-toeing around a volatile not-father kinda ended up giving him something useful. 

The creaks were still progressing, moving up the hallway from the back of the house, where his parents’ empty bedroom sat still. 

The person was getting closer, lumbering slowly as if they were trying to be quiet themselves. 

Steve adjusted his grip on the bat, taking proper batting stance, ready for the intruder to round the corner into his section of the hall. 

First sign of a person, and Steve would swing. 

No questions asked. 

The floorboard before the bend in the hall gave a loud sound, and he could’ve sworn he heard someone curse under their breath. 

He closed his eyes, and swung. 

His bat sailed through the air, and connected with, not an intruder. 

And then he was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. A completely feral state of fight or flight made him nearly bare his teeth in an animalistic growl. He felt fear, and dread, and pure stubborn, stupid resolve. 

It nearly blinded him, the emotions were so thick and clear. 

And then there whooshed out of him, as though being sucked up by a feelings vacuum, leaving him empty and confused. 

His top lip was covered in blood. 

He had a lot of fucking questions as he stared at the bat, hanging by it’s long nails in the hallway wall, the ominous creaking moving past him towards the stairs. 

The footsteps that were caused by no one. 

It’s official. 

Steve’s lost it. 

He’s fucking crazy. 

He’s hearing footsteps and voices swearing quietly, and he’s going mad and completely batshit and should be tucked away in a padded room for the rest of his life. 

He didn’t even bother to wrench the bat out of the wall as he stumbled after the imagined footsteps. 

He clearly needed to get a good night’s sleep, and to forget that anything happened at all tonight. 

-

Billy hates Harrington’s house. 

He doesn’t, really. It’s given him excellent shelter while he pulled himself together, and it’s out of town enough to serve as a good base for the little gang of Lost Boys he had accumulated. 

It’s just that, the old house likes to make a lot of noise. 

It keeps him on edge. 

Every squealing door hinge, and every creaky floorboard sets his teeth on edge and makes him whip around in a frenzy, expecting to see a demogorgon snarling at him from the sitting room. 

He nearly had a heart attack when he heard the thuds coming from upstairs. 

He generally liked to avoid the top floor of the house. 

Harrington’s bedroom was up there, and it wigged him out something fierce. He’d only been in the dilapidated version of it one time, his first night in the house he had claimed for safety. 

He didn’t intend to stay the night in there, he had just stumbled upon it, and curled up in the bed. 

He remembers not sleeping the entire night. He was so scared after coming to in the library, something slimy and disgusting slipping its way out of his throat. 

The whole place had been screaming, as though the Upside Down itself was alive. Alive and being horrifically murdered. 

He didn’t know what it was called then, all he knew was that Harrington’s house was the first one he came across, and that Harrington’s room was depressingly empty and impersonal. 

But, there was a thudding coming from that general area, and if some kinda shitty creature was making its way into the house, he needed to hedge it off before it did any damage. 

He took hold of his ax, never far from his side these days, and slipped out of his cot. 

The floorboards in the hallway were creaky, and he tried to walk slowly, muffling his footsteps as much as he could in his heavy boots, not wanting to warn the monster he was coming for it. 

He cataloged the crew in his head: Hopper had his troop of three in the basement where they were resting up for the supply run tomorrow. Timothy was on nightwatch with his team of five. Billy was in a pack with four others; Heather Holloway, her mother, Janet, and the two boys they found skulking around the library the same night everyone seemed to wake up. One of the boys was called Andrew. The other hadn’t spoken a single word the entire time they’d been trapped. 

Billy liked to call him by different names each time he referred to the kid. Trying to get him to laugh. He couldn’t’ve been more than seven years old, and he was trapped in this fucking hellscape with the rest of them. 

Andrew was thirteen. Billy didn’t like to look at him much. Andrew reminded him of Max. Which made Billy feel empty and achy in a way he didn’t think was very productive for survival.

But Andrew took a shine to Janet Holloway. Probably missing his mother and needing more comfort than his thirteen-year-old self was willing to admit.

The Holloway women were a hell of a lot feistier than Bill originally gave them credit for, saving his ass in a scrap just as often as he had been there for theirs. Heather and Janet were equal parts caring and soft, with the right amounts of clever and bossy to take point on their team. 

Billy let himself be the muscle. 

He let himself be the watchdog and attack dog. He took nightwatches and never let his weapons out of his grasp.

Everyone had a role. 

And that was perfectly okay.

They had to keep together in this world. They wouldn’t survive it otherwise. 

They’d all lost enough people to understand that. 

One of the boards gave a hefty creak under his left foot, and he breathed a quiet fuck through his bandana, listening for more of the thudding. 

It had stopped about forty seconds before, Billy had counted, and he couldn’t hear any other sounds of something forcing its way inside. Plus, the nightwatch hadn’t sounded any alarms. 

He took another step, ax held ready and aloft in case he came face to ugly face with one of the horrible creatures that prowled the night. 

He rounded the corner, and there was a loud bang on the wall next to his head. 

He jumped as paint chipped off the wall and flew all over him. 

He was hit with a feeling of intense fear, and adrenaline rush that caused all the blood in his ears to rush. He looked wildly around, seeing, nothing. 

Billy bared his teeth, ready to go down fucking swinging. 

As long as he took the fucker down with him, that’s all that matters. 

Save the rest. 

And he stood, ready to fight, ready to die. 

And there was nothing.

Nothing in the hallway. He was all alone. 

None of this shit made any sense. He hadn’t dreamed the wall cracked beside his head, and looking back, there were holes in the wall, and a big dent that had splinted the white paint and drywall beneath it. 

There was some fucked up shit going on, and Billy didn’t like it one bit. 

He continued down the hall, creeping to the stairs to check the original source of the noises that had woken him up. 

Harrington’s room was pretty much just as he remembered it from that first night in the house. 

It was sparse and sad-looking. The covers on the bed were all jostled and thrown around, the horrible spindle-like vines covering nearly every surface in the room. 

They had cleared the tendrils in other rooms, cutting them and burning them back, ensuring the vines didn’t start creeping over them when they weren’t looking. 

Billy didn’t fancy being covered and tethered by the slimy black vines. He was pretty much over all this Upside Down shit. 

He took a cursory look around Harrington’s room, not noticing any signs of forced entry from a creature, really nothing was out of place. 

The meager school trophies on the bookshelf next to the closet looked rotted and tarnished, just like everything else in this absolute hell called a parallel universe. There were few pictures in this room, much like the whole house. It had taken Billy a long time to notice the lack of inhabitancy the house had. The way it seemed to feel so cold and empty, it would be that way in the real world too. 

His eyes swept over the dilapidated dresser, cataloging the room quickly for anything that should worry him. 

Billy deemed the whole scene safe, and made sure to close the door tightly as he retreated back downstairs. 

-

Steve’s going fucking crazy. 

He was still in bed, his alarm clock ringing angrily at him as it had for the past six minutes. 

He hadn’t slept at all last night. 

Something just felt. Off. 

The feelings in his chest were scrambled, and they felt foreign to him. Like he had taken in somebody else’s emotions. 

But proximity was the key to his power, and he was alone. Alone alone. 

Like, the closest person was Mrs. Gardfeld in the next house, all the way across their combined, much too big, yards. 

It felt like. It felt like someone was in the house with him. Someone was in the house with him, and they were scared, and stubborn, and tired, and a flurry of things that made Steve feel ill. 

And he couldn’t push them out. 

He couldn’t find the chasm between this slew of someone else’s shit, and his own messy cocktail of feelings. 

The other feelings were like those awful vines in the tunnel. Snaking around under his feet, wiggling up his ankles and keeping him stuck in the mud. Wrapping around his own emotions and squeezing until they just merged into one. 

He’s lost the metaphor. 

Doesn’t matter. 

His feelings are fucked and his brain is fucked and his day is fucked. 

And he has to work a double at Family Fuckin’ Video. 

He found his way out of bed. Not going very far, just standing next to his warm nest of blankets, debating getting back in and hiding for the rest of his life. 

He was going to be late for work. 

He didn’t really give a fuck. 

Keith would be all smug and probably make some remarks about Steve not even being worth the less-than-minimum wage he was making. 

He took a shower, not so much cleaning himself as letting the lukewarm water cascade down on him and hope it got rid of the stench of sweat and anxiety and bad sleep that was clinging angrily to his skin. 

His brain was empty. 

Empty save for the pounding otherness that were these horrible fucking feelings. 

Robin didn’t even have the heart to call him out for being nearly half an hour late.

“You look like shit.”

No, she just called him out for looking like shit. 

“Y’know, it’s really wonderful to have such a caring and thoughtful friend in these trying times.”

She rolled her eyes. He always told her one day she was gonna get stuck like that. With her eyes permanently fixed towards the ceiling in exasperation. 

“Drop the attitude, Steve Harrington. Just because you didn’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to suffer.” 

Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was joking. Steve just clenched his jaw and stared at her blankly. Either she would get mad at him, or sigh and roll her eyes. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

Bingo. 

She wasn’t actually mad at him. 

“You okay?”

“Jus’, some weirdness. Bad vibes.”

He couldn’t give her more than that. Couldn’t say I can feel someone else in my house and I don’t know if someone is hiding in my house or if I’m going crazy, oh and by the way, I was one of those freaky lab kids and I can manipulate and feel people’s thoughts and emotions, by the way.

That’s too much for a slow shift on a Saturday morning. 

That’s too much for really any time of any day.

No, Steve fully plans to take all that shit to the grave. Like a real man, his dad would say. 

“Well, if you could take your bad vibes back to rewind duty, that would leave all the good vibes up here to me.” She shooed him off with her hand, landing a quick slap square on his left asscheck when he groaned and dragged his feet dramatically on his way to the back room. 

Not that Steve would ever actually complain about rewind duty. Steve preferred doing it to anything else in the place. Especially re-shelving. That was just asking for someone to come ask him for a movie recommendation. Steve only watched the same five campy old westerns and when he recommends any of those, people seem to wanna get out of his face right quick. 

No, rewinding was dull and monotonous and solitary, all the shit that Steve really needed on a day like today. 

There was a strict routine and he didn’t have to think or do anything. 

Just sit. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. Put in re-shelve bucket. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. And again and again and again until all the tapes were ready to go. 

Hawkins tended to take out a lot of movies on the weekend. Not much else to do when you aren’t sixteen and ready to hit up any party you could possibly weasel your way into. 

So, Steve had about fifty some odd tapes to rewind from the past few days and he was feeling benignly excited about sitting in the small room for most of his shift. 

It was easy to pass the shift like that. 

Sitting with the quiet whirring of the tapes being tracked back to the beginning. Not having to deal with anyone’s thoughts except his own tedious ones about when he should take his lunch break and reminding himself to check the TV Guide for anything good tonight. 

It was an odd emptiness that took hold of him throughout the day. And he almost felt, well. 

Lonely. 

He almost felt lonely. 

Which is fucking bonkers because that horrible feeling of someone else had well and truly fucked him over last night, and well into this morning, but he kind. Missed. The other presence. 

He’s officially crazy. 

Someone find this boy a padded fucking cell because Steve Harrington has officially gone all kinds of batshit bananas wacky. 

He’s feeling lonely because the horrible not his feelings of fear and anger and betrayal and desperation aren’t clogging up his little brain sink. Even when they were, the brain sink was threatening to burst and leak all over his brain kitchen. 

Or something to that effect. 

He let his eyes unfocus, watching Jaws at double speed and backward for the fourth time that day. 

There was something about the foreign feelings he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

Something twinging in the back of his brain, screaming at him to open his eyes and pay attention. 

But that’s never been Steve’s strong suit. 

-

“Stupid. Fucking. Vines .”

Hopper muttered to himself a lot. 

It was usually too muffled underneath his own bandana face covering and the hefty beard he had been sporting to discern whatever he was thinking, but it’s not like hating the awful black tendrils of gross plant/monster/everything-that-made-up-the-Upside-Down hybrid of vine-ish tentacles was something that just Hopper experienced. 

It was a sentiment they all shared as they hacked away at the new growth in the dilapidated Bradley’s Big Buys. 

They had already ransacked the general store five times over, and took as much as they could salvage from the wreckage of the other-dimensional mall. 

Supplies were needed, and they had to be smart about it. 

Things had been quiet lately. 

Not many beasties out and about since the night they all seemed to come to. 

Hopper had said something about the gate closing and the brain being cut off from the body. 

Billy hadn’t listened. 

He’d been scared off his ass and all that had really registered was clear for now. 

So, they made supply runs. And poked around town for any survivors left to take back to Basecamp Harrington. Only Billy called it that. 

They had the runs down to a system. 

Pry away any vines they could, burning them back as they went, making enough room to slip into the bargain store, gather as much canned food and grimy medical supplies as they could manage, and book it back to the relative safety of the big house on the edge of the forest. 

Nobody talked about what they’d do when they ran out of supplies. When they’d exhausted their resources and were stuck with nothing but the vines on the ground and the spores in the air. 

Billy got it. 

It’s not like he wants to hear he’ll probably die of starvation and/or a gangrenous infection before he’s eighteen. 

They just. Make do. 

Ration food and keep each other safe. 

Always thinking about the minute they’re in and the minute coming up. Not looking too far forward. 

There’s nothing to see too far in the future. 

Billy crashed the blunt end of his ax through the sliding door at the front of the store, clearing away as much as he could. 

Janet and Andrew would slip inside first go, taking as much as they could carry with them. Next round, Heather would take the little one and gather anything left. 

Billy would keep watch. 

He always kept watch. 

Things had been too good for too long. 

After the first wave of those who didn’t make it, the whole broken side of the Earth was too kind to them. Not sending horrible fleshy monsters to nearly suck out their very souls. 

Billy didn’t think this could last for much longer. 

Heather took the little one by the hand, rushing past her mother and Andrew as they returned with their supplies. Billy did a quick scan of them, noting no new injuries. Nothing out of the norm. 

Supply runs were choreographed down to the minute. 

Should the group not return in forty-five minutes, a search team was sent out. 

The small group trudged back to the Harrington safehouse, keeping in the shadows, not a single one of them daring to speak. Billy walked slightly behind the others, never letting himself relax for a single second. 

Things were too quiet.

-

The feeling hit Steve over the head like a sack of bricks being whacked against his skull. 

Walking into his home was like walking into a stinking den of fear and anxiety. The air was clogged with so many emotions Steve felt like he was choking on them, slowly being crushed under their weight. 

Whoever was emitting all these, Steve felt sorry for them. He can’t imagine living with this much bad energy taking up space in someone’s brain. He could barely cope with his own terrible bullshit. He doesn’t know how someone could cope with this. 

He tried to move through his evening to the best of his ability. 

He nearly set the house on fire when he left the tin foil covering on his frozen meal, causing the microwave to spark angrily at him, the potatoes underneath the corner of foil that had nearly caught fire to smolder and blacken. 

Even in the shower, the water as hot and steamy as he could stand, he felt that prickle he couldn’t get rid of. 

Like if he could just close his eyes and reach out far enough, his fingers would brush someone else. Someone nearby. 

He’s felt it before. That there was a person just out of reach. A person he could feel clear as a bell, but couldn’t alter. Couldn’t manipulate. Just had to experience everything that was going on inside and try to hold on for the ride. 

He wore headphones to bed, blasting a mixtape Robin had made for him last month. Something with a lot of heavy guitars and girls wailing about society. 

He doesn’t think it was all that good, but it helped. Helped him feel like maybe the person wasn’t seeping into his own soul. 

And the whining synth of Patti Smith finally let him get some goddamn sleep. 

  “Hello?”

It was his house. 

But it wasn’t his house. 

It was a blank void. It was nothing. It was nowhere. 

But for some reason, his brain kept telling him it was his house. 

“Harrington?”

It was Billy. Hargrove. 

But it wasn’t Billy. 

He was dirty, covered in soot and horrible black sludge that made Steve’s stomach churn. 

“Why are you in my house?”

Billy looked around the blank void all around them. Water sloshed on the floor, lapping at Billy’s black boots. Steve observed his own toes. 

He was barefoot, but he couldn’t feel the water. 

“This is your house?”

Steve didn’t want to explain. 

“You’re dead.”

“Could be soon.”

Nothing Billy said made any sense. But then, Billy never made much sense when he was alive, either. 

He was an enigma to Steve. A big question mark all wrapped up with a gorgeous face and perfect body.

“Where is this to you?”

Why was Steve’s brain so adamant on declaring this place his house?

“Somewhere safe.”

-

So. 

That’s something. 

Dreaming about Harrington. 

Not necessarily something that Billy wanted to have happen to him while he was experiencing the worst possible time in his life. 

Or maybe he did. 

He’d said it in the dream. 

Somewhere safe. 

It’s what he felt in that blackness. 

Safety. Warmth. Hope. 

All the shit he hasn’t felt since he opened his eyes in the rank-ass library. 

That darkness was like a harness, keeping him grounded to something real. Tucking him in gently at night and kissing him on the head. 

It made waking up that much shittier. 

Knowing he’d be on nightwatch with Heather and Janet tonight, he used resting up as an excuse to lay on his cot, hardly moving in the clouded air. 

He needed to process. 

There was something so fucking weird about that dream. 

It felt real in the moment, and he didn’t question anything that had happened. 

Why there was water on the ground at his feet? Why Harrington was there wearing pajamas Billy could only describe as skanky? All of this made perfect fucking sense to dream Billy. 

Awake Billy, had some fuckin’ questions. 

Mostly, those previously listed. As well as: what the fuck?

He blames seeing Steve specifically on being in his house. That makes sense. You tend to think about a guy quite a lot when you’re living in the broken shell of his family home. He blames seeing Steve in those itsy-bitsy shorts and a homemade cropped t-shirt on the well repressed sexual interest he refused to admit he felt towards the guy. 

All that made sense. 

But everything else. 

Steve said he was dead. 

Was he dead?

Was this Hell?

Purgatory?

He’s read The Divine Comedy, and this doesn’t quite match up with any of the shit Dante waxed on about. 

And dream Billy didn’t think that was a weird thing to say to someone. To accuse them of being dead. He just said could be soon and then acted like that was a normal fucking response. 

His head was spinning out of control. 

The only thing that made sense was when Billy said they were somewhere safe. 

Because, they were. 

Even in the void place, he knew they were safe. 

There was a small tapping sound on the wall next to the open door frame. 

The door had long since rotted right through. 

“Miss Janet sent me to see if you’re alright.”

Andrew was always calling Janet Holloway Miss Janet. 

It makes Billy wonder if manners like that were beaten into him by a father like Neil. 

He hopes not. 

He likes Andrew too much for that. 

Andrew hovered around while Billy swung himself out of his cot. 

He changed out the bandana over his mouth and nose. 

Most of them slept fully dressed, even with their shoes and socks still firmly on their feet. 

You had to be ready to go at the slightest sound of Bad in this place. 

Plus, everything was so goddamn dirty, what’s a little mud in the sheets in the grand scheme of things? And the rancid rotting smell of the Upside Down did wonders to cover the smell of body odor.

Billy followed Andrew down the L-shaped hallway, to the sitting room where he found Janet and Heather huddled together on one couch, the little one between them. 

“Apparently something happened on the run last night.” 

Billy’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t make out Janet’s expression under her face covering. The little one got up from his spot on the couch, standing in Billy’s shadow. He liked to do that. Billy figured he felt safe behind someone so much bigger and stronger than him. Someone with a big fuckin’ weapon that was never too far away. 

“Who’d we lose?”

“No one. Everyone’s okay. Hopper just called all of us for a discussion, then went to the basement.”

The basement was Hopper’s domain with his little chunk of the crew. 

He had found some busted up H.A.M. radio from somewhere he refused to explain, and spent all the time he wasn’t watching over his shoulder for threats or gathering supplies from smashed grocery stores, trying to fix it up, tuning it to different crackling stations, and yelling into it. 

El. El, I need you to copy if you can hear me. El!

-

The pillow was a mess of blood the next morning. 

It was congealed and cracked and tacky against his face and made the pillowcase stick to his cheek and his bloody upper lip in a way that kinda made Steve wanna puke a little bit. 

His nose had bled in the night. 

He never got nosebleeds. 

Unless he used his power. 

And that dream. 

That blank void space and that mucky scraggly Billy lookin’ like the hunky star of some apocalypse movie.

Wait.

Blood forgotten, smeared on his face and neck, Steve tossed himself towards the phone on his nightstand, smacking his shoulder against the wooden corner and tumbling to the floor, his legs still tangled in his sheets on the bed. 

He couldn’t deal with anything, snatching the phone up and punching in the only number that was grinding through his head. 

“ Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up, ” he muttered into the receiver. 

His upper body was still flopped over to the plush carpet, legs twitching and shaking on the bed with his anxiety. 

He’s had some massive fucking realizations and he needs backup. 

“This is the Byers.”

“Put El on the phone.”

-

“Oh. Steve’s covered in blood again. The Upside Down must really be back,” Dustin said in complete monotone as Steve opened the door. 

Steve couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. 

He felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough, all coming in the neat package of a major breakdown. 

He felt manic and shaky and so what if he forgot he was covered in the aftermath of a superpower-nosebleed-explosion?

“Shut up. Just get in.”

El had rallied the old troops from St. Paul, calling everyone at the ass-crack o’fuck in the morning and saying something about catching some weird Hawkins vibes all the way from Minnesota. 

It was a fucking weak excuse, but explaining the whole Steve situation was just not really in the cards today. 

He’s got an agenda and they need to stick to it. 

Robin said she’d gather Max on the way to Steve’s place, and Nancy was probably hauling Mike and Lucas over faster than a speeding gun or whatever that expression is, so all Steve had to do was get his story straight. 

“And maybe you should think about putting on a clean shirt? At the very least. I’d say, maybe just start over. Take a shower. Powerwash your face, even.”

“When the fuck did you become sarcastic ?”

“Right after you became friends with the coolest chick on the planet and then decided you’re too good for her.”

“ Chick. Don’t call Robin a chick. And I’ve told you, we’re just friends. I’m not too good for her.”

Really, Steve thought she was too good for him. 

Well, that, and there’s the whole part where she’s super totally not into guys at all. 

“So, what’s this all about, anyway? Mike said on the phone that El called him and left a really cryptic message.”

“Look. She called me to explain and ask if everyone could meet here,” Steve lied. “I’ll give you guys a recap once the rest of the gang shows.”

“But she thinks there’s something going on with the Upside Down? Again ?”

“I think she knows there’s something going on with the Upside Down.”

The more Steve sat with the memory of how Billy looked in that dream, the more he was certain of where he was. 

Billy had been ratty. His normally perfect hair was long and limp, greasy on top and matted around his face. He was sporting a patchy beard, nothing like the fuckin’ pornstache the guy had been rocking all last summer. 

And he was filthy. Covered in grime and dirt, and Steve’s sure if he’d looked harder, he would’ve seen traces of that viscous black goo that only meant bad news. 

There was a squeal of tires, an alarm signaling the arrival of Nancy in her mother’s station wagon, toting her brother and Lucas. 

“I’m in this now, Lucas Sinclair!” came Erica’s voice from the entryway. 

Steve was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Erica, you accidentally found out about all this!”

“So did you!”

The Sinclair siblings’ bickering was only cut by the sound of the Wheeler siblings snapping at one another in turn.

“Am I the only one that thinks it doesn’t make sense to meet up this early? El and Will are like, seven hours away!”

“Mike! It doesn’t matter. We all have to talk and figure out what’s going on.”

The sounds of arguments all quieted abruptly as the four people rounded the corner and caught sight of Steve.

“Oh, Jesus. Who kicked your ass this time?” Mike snipped at Steve. 

Oh, yeah. He keeps forgetting he’s covered in his own nose blood. 

“What? It’s nothing. I kicked my own ass. Just take a seat.”

“I told you to-”

Steve didn’t wanna hear it. 

He loves all these people, but his head kinda felt like it was full of mushy jelly and runny pudding and all the loud talking wasn’t doing much to help. 

He stepped out onto the porch, snagging the pack of cigarettes he kept stowed in the flower box next to the door. 

It took two to finally tame his nerves any. 

Sitting there with all the people in his house waiting for an explanation, he kinda felt like his haphazard plan was shit and going to fall through immediately. 

Just tell them El called. Tell them she saw Billy in the nowhere place and she thinks he’s alive. Easy as pie. 

The tell-tale sound of a skateboard making its way closer and closer announced Max before he saw her. 

Robin was pedaling next to her, helmet lopsided on her head and not buckled underneath her chin. 

They were talking animatedly to one another, their laughter dying as soon as they saw Steve waiting for them.

“Fuck. So this is real.”

“Why does everyone think I got the shit beat outta me?”

“Your ass gets creamed every time some spooky shit goes down in this place, Harrington,” Max informed him. 

She was a little Billy replica, all the way down to the way the corner of her mouth twitched up when she said his name. 

It would’ve been sad. The way she tried to become her brother after losing him so violently last summer. 

But something like relief settled into his bones, strong and real and wait ‘til I tell her Billy’s not dead and he was laughing. Curling in on himself cackling so hard his stomach had already begun to get sore

“Fuck. He’s lost it,” Robin sighed, ditching her bike next to Dustin’s and heaving Steve up, both hands underneath his armpits.

-

Nobody dared speak. 

“And you’re sure? You’re positive you heard one of those things?”

Janet had her arms twisted over her chest, her jaw tight as she watched Hopper’s every move. 

“It’s not really a sound you forget.”

Billy’s hand was shaking, he was gripping the ax so hard. 

“So, we’re fucked,” Angela said harshly. Her cold voice sent ice down Billy’s spine. “If those things are back, we don’t stand a fucking chance.”

Hopper scrubbed his hand over his brow, sighing through the cloth over his mouth and nose.

“It just means I have to try harder. I can get to El, I know I can.”

Hopper said that a lot. But he never explained what getting to El meant. 

Heather had explained she met El once, but she said it was weird and she only saw her like some kind of shadow, a figment in this dark empty place. Somewhere as cold and broken as the Upside Down felt. 

The little one was leaned up against Billy, his left hand balled in the edge of Billy’s leather jacket. He stood like that a lot. It was grounding for Billy. Kinda like holding Max’s hand when she was young and still thought he was the coolest person she’d ever met. 

“But, you only heard something, right? So it very well could be nothing.” Timothy was good at keeping mediator. He always kept a level head and talked slowly and calmly. They needed someone like him in this nightmare.

“They make this noise. This kind of wet chirping. Like this gurgle that just sounds like they’re watching you, ready to pounce out at any time, shrieking and attacking. It’s not a sound you forget.” Hopper had this horrible haunted look on his face, and Billy fucking believed him. 

“Then we up nightwatch. Stick together,” Billy offered. He never usually piped up with strategy, but that’s the best he’s got, and frankly, he thinks it’s the only way they’d all be able to make it through. 

“Exactly. We move in a pack now. Keep track of everyone together, and stay aware of what’s around us. I think we should do a major run and then lock up for a few days to see what goes down.” 

Hopper leaned back in the ratty armchair he was taking up, looking around to see if anyone challenged his ideas. 

Billy had given up his alpha male attitude the second Hopper yanked his upper arm and nearly screamed at him, asking Billy if he was ‘one of the flayed’ all while aggressively checking him over for injuries. 

First time any of Neil’s lessons actually sunk in. 

Respect and responsibility. 

If that fucker could see Billy now, doing nothing but respecting authority and taking responsibility for all these peoples’ lives. 

“We should rest up. Take a run tonight. Get a lay of the land,” Timothy said with an air of finality. Nobody argued. 

Hopper nodded. 

Everyone broke out from the Harringtons’ living room, milling around to get prepared for tonight’s run. Taking stock of what they needed to keep going for the next few days. 

Billy was itching to slide back into his cot and try to seek out that space if he can. The empty space where Harrington and that warm feeling of safe existed. 

The little one stayed clinging to his jacket, and Billy took a loose hold of his wrist, trying to provide some kind of basic comfort to the tiny kid. 

“You wanna go raid the cabinet?” The kid stared up at Billy with big eyes. Billy could never tell what color they were in the gloom. He thinks maybe green. 

The cabinet was a large door, built into the wall of the sitting room, and clearly where the Harringtons kept their games. 

They had these excruciating couple thousand-piece puzzles, the pictures peeling and faded on the pieces. They had Trivial Pursuit and backgammon, and all kindsa shit. 

The little one went and pulled out the checkers board. That was the only game Billy knew how to play anyhow. 

He and Max used to sit for hours, playing with this dinosaur-themed checker game Max’s dad got for her one birthday. 

It helped, playing a game. Helped pass the time. Help bait the anxiety. 

Helped them all feel a little bit closer to human.

-

“I don’t. Get it.”

Apparently, Nancy was not the only one, if the blank stares Steve was receiving from around his living room were anything to go by. 

“Yeah, why did she call you ?” Mike’s snitty tone was really grating on Steve’s fragile nerves.

“She said, she called to make sure everyone could come over here before she told you all to just show up this early on a Sunday morning and then she kinda explained what happened.”

Max was white as a sheet, tracking Steve like he was playing a horrible joke on her. 

“And she saw Billy. Billy Hargrove .” 

Steve nodded at Dustin. 

“Why does she think he’s in the Upside Down?” Robin asked, perched on the coffee table, sitting closest to where he was standing nervously. 

“She just knows .”

It was frustrating, trying to impart the seriousness of the situation without just spilling his guts. 

He rubbed absentmindedly at the cigar burn on his wrist. 

“I just don’t believe this. I talked to her three days ago, and she’s still having trouble with her powers. She can barely move a book, and hasn’t been able to get to the void since July, and you’re saying she accidentally saw Billy Hargrove, who we all saw murder a bunch of people and then get killed -”

“Shut up! He wasn’t himself!” Max shrieked out over Mike, the only time she’d even opened her mouth since Steve had mentioned her stepbrother’s name.

“Even if he is alive, El couldn’t have seen him! It doesn’t make sense!” Mike’s voice rose over Max’s, and Steve has a fucking headache and he’s over it.

“It was me! I had a dream. I went to the void. I saw Billy in the Upside Down. I called El to say she saw him.” 

Everyone went dead silent, staring at him.

“Steve,” Robin began, searching his face.

It was like all the wind that had been filling up his sails, powering his energy ship, had suddenly quit blowing. 

Steve was tired. 

He sank to the floor, crossing his legs where he sat.

“I need you all to shut the fuck up for a moment and let me explain, because I only wanna say all this shit once.” He covered his bloody face with his hands. “I’m like El.”

That statement hung in the air for a moment. 

And then there was a roar of noise.

“How could you keep this a secret?” Dustin shouted.

“Not in a million years !” Lucas decided. Erica yelled something back at him, vaguely defending Steve, which was nice.

“You mean you came from the lab?” Mike had a look on his face like he’d swallowed a particularly bitter lemon. 

“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” Max roared, glowering at each person until they were silent again. 

In all this Robin hadn’t said a word. She was pale, staring at Steve.

“Look, I don’t wanna go into it because it fucking sucks to think about,” Steve still hadn’t uncovered his face. “But yeah. I was in the lab. I got out because they decided I was a failed experiment. My mom worked at the lab and she took me and we pretended like the three of us moved here from Oklahoma and my dad told me never to tell anyone. And I haven’t. Didn’t even tell El. She recognized me from then. Don’t even know how, I left when she was like, three. Doesn’t matter. I’m a freaky lab kid and last night I fell asleep and saw Billy in that-what’d you call it? The void? Yeah, I saw him, and he’s covered in dirt and gross black Upside Down shit, and he’s fucking stuck there, and now we’re here.”

There was another silence. 

Steve didn’t dare to look at any of them.

He didn’t want them to laugh in his face. Tell him he was making all this shit up and leave him alone to deal with Billy trapped somewhere else. 

He wanted them to take his word for it. To quietly believe this crazy fucking shit of a story because the scared other feeling was back and clawing at his spine and making him want to burrow into the ground and find somewhere safe and secure and-

“Okay.”

Of course it was Robin. 

It was always Robin. 

Steve let himself look at her. 

She was pale, but she was smiling at him. 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Steve nodded once.

“Okay. Uh, great.”

“Wait, if you’re defective, no offense, then how did you see Billy?” 

Steve stared at Max weighing his answer carefully. 

“Because, well, the defective thing, that was all, I didn’t mean to, that was before I really understood what I could do. Don’t get me wrong, it really worked out, but it was an accident.”

“Spit it out, Sailor Man.”

“ Erica .”

Erica just rolled her eyes at Lucas. 

“Okay. Uh, before I explain, just, just keep in mind that I have rules, and I don’t use my powers if I can avoid them, and I’d never use them to be a creep, but-”

“Steve!”

“Fine!” The words were right there, ready to tumble out of his mouth and ruin his life forever. 

There was no going back after this. 

The second they knew, everything would be different.

“I can feel other peoples’ emotions and, like, change them.”

Another silence.

“I don’t understand.”

Nancy was the last person he’d ever want to have this conversation with. 

He knows what she’s thinking. He knows that the great anger brewing inside her is because she assumes he made her like him. Made her attracted to him. 

Made her want him. 

“I don’t use it like that. I would never, put something there that shouldn’t be there. It’s just, When someone feels something near me, I can tap into it. Let it become my own feelings. And then I just, change it. Just a little.” He cast around for a harmless example because so far, everyone was staring at him like a goddamn creep. “Robin!”

She startled slightly when he yelled at her.

“Okay, so Robin. I’d never, ever make you feel something not true to you. Like, I’d never make it so you were into me when you’re totally not, right?” He cast a glance at Nancy. “But, like, the other day, when you felt really shitty when I invited you over and you were studying, I just, I made it so you wouldn’t feel bad. I felt all this guilt you had for leaving me alone when you thought I was having a shitty day, and I made it so you didn’t feel guilty because you shouldn’t. That’s the kinda level I allow myself to work on.”

The look Robin was giving him was breaking his fucking heart. 

Worse still, was the feeling of betrayal that began eating away at her. 

“So, right now. You can tell what we’re all feeling?” Even Lucas, ever the level-headed one, couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I don’t want to. I don’t try to, but I can’t really avoid it. I just try to ignore it. But sometimes, sometimes if I bottle it all up for a while, it comes crashing out of me, and that’s when bad shit happens. If I don’t use it occasionally, it only wakes things worse, and I-”

“I can’t hear this.”

Robin’s anger crashed through Steve like a wave, nearly knocking him over. She stood, towering over him. 

“When we were in that bathroom, all drugged out of our minds. I-” she sniffed, rage tears pooling in her eyes. Steve likes her eyes. So crystal blue. “Are we even really friends?”

Her last question was nothing more than a whisper. 

And it made Steve wish he was never born.

He gaped at her like a dead fish.

“Rob, of course we are! I would never-”

“Because I hated you. And then one summer. Two whole months where we’re close enough that you can get all up in my brain, and suddenly I’m telling you shit I’ve never told anyone before.”

“It wasn’t, Robin I swear, that whole time, I never once used-”

She held up her hand, cutting him off. 

A sob caught in his throat as she turned on her heel. 

She slammed the door closed behind her. 

Another fucking silence. 

Steve couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Their feelings were enough for him now, betrayal and anger and disappointment rushing into his lungs, drowning him. Choking him. 

“You’ve used them on all of us.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was just a statement. The coldest he’s ever heard Dustin sound. 

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Jesus, Steve. You realize that’s actually totally fucked up, right? You can’t just make us feel whatever you want,” Dustin bellowed at him, standing up like Robin had done, looking down at Steve where he sat pathetically on the floor. 

And, when it’s put like that. 

Sure. 

It’s kinda fucked up. 

But he’s only ever meddled in a way that’s good. He only ever tries to make his friends feel the positives. Hell, on the night of that stupid Snow Ball, he’d given Dustin enough self-confidence to make Madonna seem insecure. 

All he does is try to help. 

“All I do is try to help.”

More fucking silence. 

Steve was so goddamn sick of silence. All he had was silence. He had the nothing, empty quiet. And he didn’t want it from the people who were supposed to make his life loud. 

“El won’t be here until later tonight. I think we should just meet up then.”

Steve buried his head in his hands, biting back sobs as the small group filtered out of his house. 

This is why he had wanted to take this secret with him to death. 

He told everyone who he really is, and now they all hate him, and he’s completely alone, and wherever Billy is he’s fucking scared and-

“Steve?”

Max’s voice was small, mirroring the way she was curled in on herself in the plush armchair near the wall. 

“Do you really think Billy’s alive?”

Steve nodded at her, desperately begging her to stay. To help him. 

“I know he is.”

“I have an idea.”

-

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

Doesn’t remember much of anything in this place. 

He studied the water lapping at his muddy boots, dragging his toes through it to make the water wave and ripple. 

It didn’t make a sound. 

“I want to help.”

Billy knew Steve was there even before he spoke. 

Something about the warmth he brought to the void place. 

The safety. 

“Don’t know if you can.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile at that. His face was covered in blood, dried and flaking away from his skin, painted all the way down his face and neck, some staining the collar of his shirt.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“That happens when the only interactions you have with a guy are to beat his ass.”

Steve cracked a real smile at that. Something big and bright that made Billy’s gut twist in a way he didn’t quite like. 

“You’re forgetting all those other times we spent together. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Yeah, Billy knows. 

Mostly because he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

He had talked to Steve about his bitchy ex while they both had their dicks out in the shower. He was trying to be very much un-subtle. 

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know.”

Oh. 

Steve knows. 

And all he had done was stare blankly at Billy. 

Nice. 

“I need to know where you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because I can help.”

Billy just blinked at Steve. 

“Do you know El?”

Something funny happened to Steve’s face. He kind of gave a little smile that flickered into a frown and landed on something a little pinched and awkward. 

“Yeah. How do you know her?”

“Hopper keeps saying he needs to get to her. None of us know what he’s talking about.”

And with that, Steve’s eyes went huge, and his jaw dropped. The water at Billy’s ankles sloshed quietly. 

“Hopper’s there? Chief Hopper? Jim Hopper is there?”

“Jesus, yeah. Been here since we all woke up.”

Steve acted like Billy had told him that Farrah Fawcett herself was on her way to shave his head. 

Meaning, he looked struck fucking dumb. 

“I’m gonna need you to explain.”

“I don’t know. Don’t remember much. Crashed my car on one of your shitty backwoods roads, and then everything is just, kinda, gone. I woke up in this shithole version of the library and Hopper found me here and we’ve kinda set up camp.”

Billy shrugged lamely. Something was dripping, he could hear the sound of it far behind him.

“There’s more of you? How many?”

“Not as many as there should be.”

Steve’s mouth pinched, and his big droopy eyes went all sweet and sad. 

“Where are you? Where’s the camp?”

Billy was suddenly embarrassed. There was a sound like a stream flowing over rocks.

What’s he supposed to say? The hellscape skeleton of your house oh and by the way all your stuff is here and I slept in your bed once because I was scared and sad.

“Someone’s house. Don’t know whose.”

Steve huffed some air out of his nostrils, his mouth pinching again. 

Billy hadn’t realized someone could make so many different expressions just by pursing their lips in different ways. 

“Find out. We’re coming to get you.”

A crash of a wave, and Billy was back in hell. 

-

Steve sucked in lungfuls of air, tossing the towel that had been covering his eyes to the ground. 

“You saw him.” 

Max was sitting in front of him, the t.v. playing static behind her. 

“Yeah. He’s okay. I mean, he’s really gross. Like, he’s-sorry. He’s okay.”

Max was still staring at him like she didn’t quite know how to proceed. 

“But he’s in the Upside Down?”

“Yeah. And there’s others. He said Hopper’s there, that he’s been trying to contact El.”

“Wait, Hopper? He’s alive?”

“Billy said all of the flayed woke up after the Fourth of July in the Upside Down. He doesn’t know anything that happened in this world, and Hopper was there and they’ve set up, like, some kind of camp, or whatever. He said they’re in someone’s house. He doesn’t know who.”

“ Fuck .”

Yeah, Steve agrees with that sentiment. 

This whole thing was like, kind of a lot. 

And deep inside him, those other feelings had yet to leave him alone all day. 

There was some kind of disappointment knocking about in his brain. 

He knows it’s Billy. 

All of those other feelings, it’s whatever Billy is feeling right that minute wherever he is. 

And it only happens when Steve is-

“Max, he’s here.”

She whipped around behind her, staring at the front door like Billy could waltz through it at any moment. 

“No, no not here, here .” She clearly didn’t understand. He used the towel to wipe the fresh blood from his upper lip, still having yet to clean himself up any. “The camp, the safeplace, it’s here. They’ve set up in my house!”

It felt like a revelation on par with the greatest inventions. Steve felt like the scientist that landed the man on the moon or the very first person to melt cheese onto fries. 

A genius. 

“So, he’s, I mean, he could be, just, here .” She looked over the room wistfully, and Steve knew how she felt. Like she wanted to pierce her hands into thin air, tearing a hole in between the two worlds and ripping Billy straight outta hell. 

(Really, she just filled him with a wave of fierce determination, but Steve likes to take poetic license on other people’s feelings sometimes.)

“And you can feel him.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he, okay?”

And he knows this question. 

Not the okay he assured her of when he first saw Billy. Soothing that he wasn’t missing any internal organs or possessed by any monsters. 

She wants to know if he’s held it together. 

“He’s scared. He’s always scared. But he’s really fucking stubborn, and he- I don’t know why he feels these things, but sometimes he gets kinda sad. Almost like he’s lost something, and sometimes, it feels like he’s caught fire, and his insides are just going up in flame and he gets overwhelmed by them. And sometimes he feels-” He hadn’t meant to continue.

“Tell me.”

He’s pretty sure Max knew what he was going to say next. 

She just wanted it confirmed. 

“Hopeless. Sometimes he feels hopeless.”

She sniffed, her eyes shining as she looked anywhere that wasn’t Steve. 

“But, we know now. He doesn’t have to be hopeless anymore. We’ll find a way in, and we’ll get him out.”

He didn’t want to manipulate her. 

He didn’t want to cross the boundaries everyone clearly thought he already had. 

But he was positive he would find a way to Billy. He was positive he would get him out and get him home. 

He sent a wave of that determination and hope and conviction to her. 

“Yeah. We’ll get him.”

-

“Hopper, man, some funky shit is going down.”

Hopper whirled around quickly, halfway to his feet and asking who's been hurt before Billy raised both hands, acting like he was calming an anxious horse.

“Nah, sorry, shoulda worded that better. I just mean, something’s happened to me. With me, maybe. I don’t know. Just hear me out. This shit’s gonna sound, insane.”

Hopper didn’t say anything as Billy explained, beginning with that night when the wall shattered next to his head, and ending with his most recent trip to the void place. 

Billy shrugged lamely when he finished explaining. 

“So, Harrington, huh? Never woulda guessed he was like her. You sure you didn’t see a little girl anywhere in the blank place?”

“No. It was just us. Both times.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair, scratching a hand through his thick beard. 

“The first time one of the demogorgons showed up on our side was behind Steve’s house. Took Will Byers from his shed. They live some few miles away. Second time was in Harrington’s backyard. Took Barbara Holland.” Hopper sighed, looking in the direction of the busted radio. Billy could more or less see the cogs turning in his head. “If you see him again, tell him where we are. Tell him I think the walls are thinnest here. That maybe he and El could tear through. Better yet, tell him to find me if he can.”

He clapped Billy on the shoulder, looking right at him in that way he did sometimes. It always made Billy feel like a little kid. 

“Thank you, kid. You might’ve just saved us.”

Billy felt awkward and didn’t really know what to do with his face. Thankfully, Hopper turned away from him, cutting the moment short and moving back to fiddling with the old radio. 

Billy ducked his way up and back to the furthest bedroom on the ground floor, taking a seat on his low cot and digging his palms into his eyes. 

He didn’t know how the void happened. If he could only get there in his sleep, or if it was Steve’s doing somehow. 

“C’mon, Steve. Where are you? Come find me, Pretty Boy. We gotta talk.”

When he moved his hands away, he was in that blank place. 

Billy was taken aback a bit, thinking somehow he had created the place around him. 

Until he saw Steve, standing nervously and staring at Billy. 

“I felt you. What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, you felt me? What in the fuck’s that supposed to mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Steve wasn’t covered in blood anymore. 

In fact, he looked freshly showered, his hair slightly damp and soft-looking without product. 

It’s how he always looked right after having a post-practice shower. Clean and warm. Soft and inviting. 

“I talked to Hopper. He told me to give you a message.”

Steve’s eyes lit up, and he took a step towards Billy, the water rippling where his foot disturbed the surface. 

“He said, well. He told me where we are. Apparently, we’re at your place.” Billy tried to smirk a little, act like this was brand new information to him.

“Yeah. I gathered.”

“He thinks the walls are thinnest at your place. Said that maybe you and El could tear through easily. That mean anything to you?”

Steve nodded so hard his bangs flopped right into his eyes. 

He pushed his hair out of his face, tucking some behind his ear. Billy tracked the movement. 

“We’re going to try tonight. Maybe around six. Can you guys be ready by then?”

“We don’t have any way to track time around here. Don’t even know if it’s day or night, really.”

Steve bit his soft bottom lip, looking at Billy like he wanted to cry for him. 

“Then I’ll come and get you before. Warn you when we’re about to start. Make sure everyone stays close. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep it sustained, and we want to get everyone out if we can.”

“Steve, man, what in the fuck is going on? I’ve been shut up in this place for, for I don’t even know how long, and all of a sudden, you just start showing up in my head and telling me that you’re gonna take point on this big fuckin’ rescue mission.”

Billy doesn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all Steve Harrington, but he’s scared, and confused, and he genuinely wishes that he had died in that library instead of waking up. 

“I’ll explain it when you get back.” 

And Steve smiled at him and the corners of his eyes crinkled and Billy didn’t quite feel like he wanted to die anymore. 

-

“Where are they?”

El didn’t even say hello when she pushed Steve’s front door open, just made straight for Max and Steve in the sitting room.

“They’re all being dicks,” was Max’s answer. “Steve told us about how you two know each other, and everyone kinda freaked.”

“I mean, it’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah, sure, but they didn’t need to be such shitbirds about it.”

Somewhere between feeling harshly angry at Steve and his powers and hearing her brother’s voice crackle through the television speaker, Max had pretty much ensconced Steve as her sidekick. 

Which he didn’t mind in the least. 

It was kinda odd seeing the Byers in his house. 

Jonathan looked. Exactly the same. 

Like literally. His hair had grown out since his mother had taken a pair of scissors and a bowl to it last summer, and he looked just like the Hawkins Jonathan Steve was used to. 

It was kinda nice. 

At least one thing hasn’t changed. 

Especially because Will is pretty much unrecognizable. 

He had shot up, growing until he could nearly look Steve in the eye. And thank God, he must've followed Jonathan’s footsteps and stopped letting Joyce cut his hair. 

It was longer, adn shaggier, but it made him look so grown up. 

Nearly as grownup as El, her hair nearly down to her shoulder blades, the top of her head coming up on Steve’s chin, showing off the signs of her own growth spurt. 

Even Joyce was sporting a new look. Longer hair with bangs that were swept off her face.

She gave Steve a comforting hug, and those were just the same. 

Unease filled the room. 

Nobody knew what they were walking into. El had to have given them the basics, and Steve figures she explained some on the long drive back to town, but there had been even more developments since the last they had spoken this morning. 

Steve sifted through the borderline panic of Max and the Byers, clinging onto the fierce calm that El was radiating. Probably for his benefit more than her own actual experience. 

“I know where Billy is. We talked. I have an idea.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the feelings. “Hopper’s alive.”

It took a second. 

El’s carefully maintained calm wavered for a moment. 

And then it crashed down. 

Disbelief, relief, denial, anger, hope, joy. 

Everything a person could possibly feel at once poured out of El and Joyce both, nearly knocking Steve off his feet with the sheer velocity of the emotions. 

“Saw him?”

“No. But Billy mentioned him. He said he’s been trying to get to you.”

El’s eyes filled with tears, and Steve could feel the satisfaction, the pride, welling up in her that Hopper was still thinking of her. That he was trying to reach out. 

“My powers,” she trailed off.

“Yeah. I know. But, he said, well, he told Billy to tell me, he thinks the walls are thinnest here. Maybe in the woods outback. He thinks we can do it.”

Sorry,” Joyce interrupted. She had gathered herself somewhat, but her feelings were still shaky. 

She always felt like she was trembling emotionally. Joyce felt everything nearly as viscerally as Billy did. 

“I think we’re not on the same page. Steve, you spoke to Billy? El said she sensed him.”

“Steve is like me. From Papa.”

“You mean, from the lab?” Jonathan clarified. 

Everyone was staring at Steve again and he felt like burrowing a hole right through the floor and hiding underground forever. 

“Yeah, I got out when I was a kid. My parents were pretty hell-bent on hiding it from everyone. But. You know. Cat’s outta the bag now. But yes, it was me who saw Billy. He’s in the Upside Down. A bunch of people are. Including Hopper. It sounds like they were all taken and the flayed people out here were like, fake. Like evil twin versions.”

Sure, it’s a shitty explanation.

It’s the best he can do, okay? Leave him alone. 

“So, what’s his plan, then?”

That’s the good thing about the Byers, though. They get the whole, priority thing. Now’s not the time to focus on shit like Steve’s fake life. Not when the Upside Down is concerned. 

“Billy didn’t say much. Just that he thinks maybe El and I could like, band together to open it. I don’t really know how, I mean, I haven’t thought about it much, I just spoke to him, but that's the idea. I told him I would meet him in the void or whatever before we go so he can gather everyone and get ready.”

“So, is it just us?” Will asked quietly, biting the inside of his cheek. He was disappointed. His friends not being where they were needed. Not being there to see him for the first time since his family moved away months ago. 

Steve shrugged.

He was battling his own disappointment and hurt at everyone ditching him. 

“No. Let’s start calling. We need to stick together for this one. Billy hasn’t said anything about how bad the Upside Down has been, and we need to be ready to fight off anything that tries to get through.”

“Max is right. They should be here.” Will was already making his way to the phone placed on the side table. “They need to be here.” 

Jonathan caught Steve’s eye, jerking his head slightly to the hallway. 

Steve followed him, already knowing the line of questioning that was about to hit him. 

“I knew you called El. I picked up this morning. Now the story makes a lot more sense, I guess.”

“Yeah. I’ve been getting this weird feeling for a couple months, but I finally put it all together. Probably would’ve happened faster it is was El.”

“I don’t know. She’s been struggling a lot. She practices every day, but,” he sighed” I don’t know if she’s strong enough to make this work.”

He’s worried, adn scared, and has that exact same tremble-feeling that his mother does. 

“I know. I just don’t think we can leave them any longer. Billy said they’ve already lost people. I don’t know what it’s been like for them, but they’ve been stuck for fucking months, and-”

This time, it hit him so hard he really did blackout. 

His vision clouded around him, and his whole body burned with the raging fear inside of him. 

He could hear something, could hear someone screaming, adn something, something that sounded horrible, and so very very like a-

-

“Demogorgon!”

It’s like it had come out of nowhere. 

This towering figure, long and thin in all the wrong fucking ways.

And the sound. Billy realized what Hopper meant about how it’s not something you forget. 

They were in some form of a ready position. 

Billy among the front of the group, holding his ax he had never let go of in the first place. 

His heart was pounding. 

We’ll be out soon. We’ll be out soon. 

He didn’t believe it. 

How could he?

How the fuck is Steve Harrington going to get them out of the worst place ever? No offense to him or anything, but the guy could barely make a goddamn milkshake without spilling something on the sticky tile floor of Scoops Ahoy! and now, Billy’s life is in this guy’s hands while he stares into the jaws of a monster that looks like it stepped right out of H.P. Lovecraft’s wettest dreams.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s had this realization, but he is in way over his fucking head. 

“Steve,” Billy grumbled to himself through gritted teeth. “If you can hear me, get us the fuck outta here.”

The thing ahead of them wasn’t moving. It stood in the line of the trees behind Steve’s house. 

It was staring down the clump of people on the other side of the backyard. 

The air was still. 

Billy’s ears were ringing. 

He stared the thing down. 

Its long fingers twitched. 

Someone screamed. 

And the thing charged. 

It roared like nothing Billy had ever heard before. A shriek that seemed to vibrate Billy’s bones and tremble the earth underneath his feet. 

It charged. 

Sprinting forward on long thin legs, it loped with a grace that turned Billy’s stomach and made his knees wobble and threaten to give out. 

Plant your feet. 

It rang through his head, Steve’s voice from, some time Billy couldn’t remember. Or maybe Steve was just the little voice that commanded his bravery now. 

Either way, he dug the balls of his feet into the cracked ground, and waited. 

Don’t stop fighting.

He swung. 

The ax clocked right into the side of the thing, barely cutting into its thick leathery skin, but it slowed it down. 

Well, actually. 

It made it change course from attacking the group as a whole, to honing in on Billy. 

Which was less than awesome. 

Billy wrenched the ax out of its tough body, thick, sticky black goo connecting the ax with its entry point as he drew it away. 

He swung again, nearly hitting the same place. 

The thing cried out, roaring over the sound of screaming and gunshots. 

Hopper had his rifle trained on the flowered head of the one Billy was furiously chopping into like a tree. 

There were two more, two he hadn’t noticed in his preoccupation with the one in front of him. 

He didn’t know who was who. Which gunshot belonged to which gun, which shriek belonged to which animal. 

He didn’t know if the cries of pain were from the awful beasts or the people in his camp. He was hoping the former. 

He swung again. There was a sickening sound of the metal blade connecting with something solid. Something like bone. 

Hopper shot it, once, twice in the head. 

It was whining, making a high-pitched noise as it staggered about. 

One last blow to the side of the thing, and it was finished. 

The monster flopped onto the ground, dark liquid oozing out of it, its body nearly split in half where Billy had hammered it with his ax. A great gaping wound that showed sticky dark entrails. 

Billy turned. 

His brain was working in slow motion as he charged into the battle still raging. 

He didn’t know how many of the things had arrived. 

All he knew was taking them out.

His arms were sore from the force he was putting into each blow with his ax. His muscles threatened to give out at any moment.

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

The thought was shoved into his head. He didn’t know where it came from but he believed it. 

“Help is on the way!” He shouted to no one and everyone. 

He had taken down two more demogorgons with the help of the others. One was missing its body, a petal head lolling on the ground, getting trampled on in the fight. 

-

Steve had felt the demogorgon before Billy saw it. 

It was an odd feeling, almost like it was a black hole sucking up everything he thought and felt before he could cling onto it. 

It made him feel cold, and empty, and just like the Upside Down felt. 

“We don’t have time!”

El was insisting on contacting the others. She was livid with them for abandoning Steve, but things were taking a turn for the small group trapped in that hellscape. 

“Steve’s right. If there’s a demogorgon there, that means the Mind Flayer has gotten some strength back, wherever he is.”

Steve nodded at Will gratefully.

“But, what’s the idea? You two open the gate. Then what? We wait for those things to come through to our side?” Jonathan asked, kinda harshly, if you ask Steve.

Steve rubbed his eyes, his fists pressing against them so hard he was seeing odd shapes. 

“No. I go through. I get them. I bring them back.” His head was a fucking mess. Billy was all over the place. Fear, desperation, and a horrible calm that only came when things looked like the end. Plant your feet, he thought, trying to get his feelings to Billy through the thin dimensional wall. Don’t stop fighting. “For the past few days, all I’ve been able to feel is somebody else’s fucking fear and this stupid stupid stubbornness and I know it’s Billy, and I know he’s in trouble. Like right now. The demogorgons are coming for them, and he’s so scared. He’s so fucking scared and he thinks he’s gonna die, and he’s trapped .”

He looked at each person individually, glaring at them all in the eye. 

“We don’t have time.”

So it was decided. 

He brought El outside, and stared into the shimmering water of the pool. 

The pool where a demon came out and dragged Barbara to her death. 

It gave him the fucking creeps. Well, it more gave him the severe anxiety, but there was something about it that made it seem like it was the best place to try and rip the fold between himself and Billy. 

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

He wanted Billy to have some hope. Something like a lifeline that would keep him fighting the monsters. 

He had wrenched his nail bat out of the wall it was still planted in from a few nights ago, and stood next to El, ready to try. 

“To be honest, I don’t know how to help you.” It was the only thing that scared him about this plan. “I don’t have the same powers as you. The telekin-the moving stuff around. I don’t know how to open this.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. 

“In Chicago. Kali. When I’m angry my powers are better,” she took his hand. “Make me angry.”

Steve closed his eyes. 

He tried to push Billy to the side, clinging onto the first bit of El he could sense. 

Her anger was like a melted core running through her. Driving her in a lot of ways. 

He grabbed onto it. 

Papa. Everything he did to your mama. Being locked in isolation. Fights with Hopper. Being trapped in the cabin. Feeling alone and not knowing how to fix it. New kids at school being mean. Techs in the lab that treated us like rats. The smell of skin burning. Parents that called you a freak. 

He didn’t know when he had stopped using El’s ready-made rage, and began siphoning his own straight into the beating heart of her fury. 

His gut began to feel white-hot, and he could feel the blood dripping down his lip. 

Lying to everyone. Being abandoned for the truth. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

Steve was livid. 

He’s never felt an emotion consume him like this. Felt one feeling take over so completely it’s like there was nothing else in the world. 

He opened his eyes. 

There was blood flowing steadily from El’s nose, and he knew his was doing the same. 

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, his body going into overdrive to divert all of his energy to his powers. 

The rift glowed red through the clear pool water, splitting open like a seam on a well-worn shirt. 

The burn on his arm ached, and he pushed into it. 

He remembered being held down on his father’s desk. Remembers the cigar being forced against his skin, bubbling up and disfiguring the tattoo beyond recognition. 

He remembers his father, this is for your own good, Steven. You’ll tell everyone you had an accident. People won’t question a burn like they will a tattoo. 

Like no one would take one look at the quarter-sized mark and know what would make it. 

He remembers getting the tattoo. 

It was nearly the same process. 

He was strapped down in a chair, his screams going ignored as the needle drove into his skin over and over, leaving a neat black number behind. 

001

Number One. 

The first in a series of children bred for something more, and beaten into acceptance. 

His head felt like it could explode. He didn’t know what was going on around him, was barely aware of El’s sweaty hand in his, and the bright red light coming from the cracked bottom of the pool. 

It was open. 

Number One took a deep breath, and dived into the pool. 

-

It was the little one that noticed it. 

Billy had been trying to yell at him to get back inside, to keep himself out of harm’s way. 

They had killed six demogorgons, and more were certainly coming. 

The trees in the forest were rustling in a way they never did on their own. 

The little one was pointing frantically, his eyes wide and scared. 

Billy turned, and his blood ran cold. 

Something was moving in the pool. 

It was making the thick non-water slosh around dangerously, the dark liquid lapping over the sides and staining the concrete. 

There were vines crisscrossing over the surface of the liquid, and Billy approached it carefully, hoping whatever was coming out would be trapped underneath them. 

“This is the last fucking thing we need,” Hopper gritted out, cocking his rifle and aiming at the sludge. 

And then Billy’s head felt like it had been cracked open. 

He was blinded with pain and rage and 

Help me, Hargrove!

He started swinging his ax wildly at the vines. Trying to break them apart enough for a body to fit through. 

His heart thundered in his chest, and he dropped to his knees, ripping at the slimy black tendrils. 

He shoved his left arm in.

It was like dousing his arm in ice. Like the liquid was made from the purest essence of cold. 

He searched frantically with his hand, finding something solid and yanking with all his strength. 

He had to put both arms in, grabbing hold of whatever he could, using his body weight as leverage to extract Steve from the cold. 

He was limp when Billy finally got him out, but breathing heavily. 

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of the goop and blood covering him, and grinned at Billy. 

“Told’ya we would get you out.”

They shepherd him inside, most of the gang speechless and struck dumb from the events of the past while. 

Steve was given a change of almost clean clothes, and allowed to use some of their bottled water ration to clean the freezing black fluid from himself. 

He wasted little time, and was down in the Upside Down version of his living room with everyone else. 

“We can’t be long. El had to use a lot of strength to open it, but she’ll need her strength to close it, too.” 

Nobody knew what in the fuck Steve was going on about. 

Nobody but Hopper, that is. 

He still had disgusting pool sludge all over his front from when he pulled Steve into a tight hug when he had gotten his bearings back from his journey through the rift. 

“We can’t send people through that shit. It took all of Billy’s muscle to get you outta there.”

“So we drain it,” Steve insisted. “My parents drain it sometimes, I know how to do it.”

“I’ll keep watch. Make sure nothing tries to make itself known.”

Billy had barely wiped himself off. 

He didn’t care anymore about how freezing that shit was, he just wanted to surge forward, and get back the fuck home.

Hopper studied them both.

“Bring weapons. Yell if you need help.”

Billy nodded once, and turned on his heel, following Steve out the back door. 

Steve led him to a wooden shed on the side of the house. Billy had to clear the vines away from it before Steve could pry open the doors. 

It was full of pool equipment, and it didn’t take long for Steve to locate a large grubby pump. He knocked it against the wall of the shed until the filter attachment clattered off, leaving bigger openings for the sludge to, hopefully, run through. 

“Shit. This thing is electric. You got electricity?” 

It was the first time Steve had really gotten a good look at Steve since being in the Upside Down. 

He looked exactly as he had in the void place. His hair had a lot more disgusting black fluid in it, and he overall looked kinda shitty with the flecks of grime and blood on his face, but he looked bright. Alive. Strong. 

“How did you do it? Take me to that place. Figure out we were here.” 

Steve flushed. Billy had become overly aware that his face was completely covered under his bandana. Steve should cover his face. 

He drew another one of his back pocket, and, he didn’t know why, but he tied it around Steve’s face. 

Seriously, he could’ve just handed it to the guy and called it good there. But no. He had to set his ax on the ground, propped against his leg, wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and tie the bandana like this was some intricate ritual. 

All while Steve just stared at him with those fuckin’ eyes of his. 

“It’s a long story.” Billy could barely hear Steve speak through the dirty cloth now covering his mouth and nose. “I’ll tell you when we’re back. When we’re safe.”

“I’m holding you to that, Harrington. Can’t have a guy poking around my dreams and shouting in my head without knowing his intentions.”

It was as close to flirting as Billy dared right now. 

Right before they tried to journey between worlds. 

“Good to know you heard me. I was trying to give you something of a pep talk.”

“Well, it worked. I would’ve just put my arms out and let those things rip me to shreds if I hadn’t have known.”

Billy didn’t know what Steve’s face was doing behind the cloth, but his eyes dropped, and Billy imagined that little cinch of his mouth that he had noticed Steve doing so much in that void place.

-

Billy meant it as a joke. 

He really did. 

And the Billy that was torn to bits in the mall wasn’t this Billy. Wasn’t the real Billy that was made out of real Billy materials and real Billy personality. 

But it still made Steve feel queasy, thinking about his arms spread wide, black goop pouring out of his mouth and nose as the Mind Flayer decimated him. 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Billy. Just, not now.” 

And Steve turned off, hauling the pump back to the pool and taking calming breaths. 

The pump sank without much effort, like there was some kind of gravitational pull at the bottom of the pool. 

Steve had connected the thickest hose he could find, adn sent Billy off with the extension cord to find an outlet that didn’t spark and threaten fire. 

Before no time, the pump was humming, and pushing black slime through the hose and onto the dead grass. 

They didn’t need to get it all out, just as much as they could shove everyone through. 

Steve closed his eyes, trying to reach El like he had Billy. 

We had a hold up. Shouldn’t be long. 

He could feel her on the other side. 

She promised she would stay close enough to the rift that Steve could get in touch with her. 

He could feel something slither down his spine, a wordless confirmation from her. 

The liquid in the pool was slowly edging down, leaving a stain on the once-white walls of the pool. 

“Gather everyone up. Tell ‘em to meet out here. Tell ‘em to leave it all behind.”

Billy was still staring at the edge of the forest when he commanded Steve. 

It was odd, being in his house that’s not his house. 

Everything was so. Wrong. 

From the way the house seemed to be crumbling down, reduced to its studs in some areas, to the way it was still clearly his house. Paintings his father had bought. Elegant furniture his mother selected. 

It was all there. Just under a thick layer of dirt and nightmares. 

He thought idly about his bedroom, wondering if it would look like it did on his end. A little messy, the sheets typically rumpled and unmade. 

He resisted the urge to wander upstairs, reminding himself he was on a mission. 

“It’s time. Don’t bring anything. It’ll probably be ruined along the way.”

Everyone looked grave. Steve tried to smile at them, tried to push through some calmness to them all. He had forgotten Billy’s bandana was tied around his face. He sent one last wave of quiet confidence around the room, and led the group through the kitchen. 

They had barely rounded the corner of the kitchen island when they heard a strangled yell from outside. 

Steve put his head down, and sprinted through the shattered glass doors, skidding to a halt in the threshold. 

Billy was staggering backward, his ax forgotten on the ground and his left hand was clinging wildly to his right shoulder. 

His jacket was in tatters, thick blood dripping bright crimson down his arm, standing out like neon against the dark, dirty ground. 

Steve didn’t feel himself moving forward. He didn’t feel his hands raising in front of him. 

He just felt anger. The same anger from before that had ripped through him like a raging forest fire and straight into El. 

The thing shrieked. 

It backed away from Billy, twisting and writhing as its horrible screams filled the air, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. 

Fierce fury was exploding out of him, and he grit his teeth against the pounding in his head. 

“You don’t get to hurt him,” Steve barely barked out. 

All went still, and the demogorgon snapped into pieces. 

Steve felt like he could pass out where he stood. 

He had never felt so wrung dry. 

His vision was waning at the edges, and he felt an arm around his waist, coaxing him toward the red light now barely shining through a thin layer of slime in the pool. 

“Hold your breath, Pretty Boy.”

-

Steve was limp against him, and Billy was doing his best to ignore the searing pain in his right shoulder as he held Steve close to his side. He had fumbled off both of their face coverings, moving clumsily through the pain of his injury. 

He took one last breath, and jumped into the rip between worlds. 

He plunged into the water, the crystal blue of a chlorinated pool. 

It was the best feeling in the world. 

Being covered and surrounded by clean. The heated water doing more to soothe Billy’s frayed nerves than anything in his life. 

He kicked hard, swimming one-armed to the surface, Harrington a dead weight in his injured arm. 

His head broke the water, and he took in deep lungfuls of clean, crisp air. 

Someone was tugging at Steve, and Billy, for the first time in his fucking life, was glad to see those kids Max was constantly hanging around. 

A woman Billy didn’t know was fawning over Steve, feeling for a pulse, and looking relieved when she felt his hot breath against her palm. 

“There’s more coming,” Billy coughed. 

He barely managed to get the words out, dripping muck and grime on the cement by the pool, when it felt as though he was hit from the side by a speeding train. 

He buried his nose in bright orange hair, hugging Max back as tightly as he could manage. 

He was exhausted, and feeling her there, alive and okay, was all that was keeping him standing. 

“I thought, I mean, we all thought you were dead. We saw it. That thing killed you .” Billy realized, with a whole lotta horror, that she was crying. Sobbing outright into his dirty chest. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” How could they have seen when that monster just came at him? 

“Oh, you’re bleeding.”

And if she only just realized he was hurt?

Max frog-marched Billy inside, to a very pale-looking Nancy Wheeler, sitting ready with a first aid kit. 

Billy had to peel his clothes off his body, the fabric stuck to him like a second skin. 

Nobody was speaking, and more of the people locked in the other place came traipsing into the room, fluffy towels wrapped around their shoulders. 

Hopper was the last to come in, holding the woman tight to his side underneath the striped pool towel. 

“Steve and El are closing it back up.”

There was a quiet murmur around the room.

Nancy patched up Billy’s shoulder, Max still stuck to his side like glue, the little boy from camp pasted to his other side. 

He had no idea how much time had past when Steve finally came traipsing into the room with Max’s little friend, both of them sporting matching bloody noses. 

Steve looked like shit. 

His face was covered in blood, old and new, and he still had some of the gross not-liquid in his hair from the Upside Down. 

But Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see someone in his life. 

“I’m sure everyone has questions,” said the woman tucked against Hop’s side. El, Billy assumes, had taken her place on Hop’s other side, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as well. 

The woman launched into a story that made Billy feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears. 

A monster. One they had all met before. Playing body snatcher in their sleepy little town. 

Apparently, one had been wearing a Billy meat-suit and wreaking havoc around town, which made Billy wanna throw up until he died. 

Which, not-Billy, had died. Fuckin’ brutally. And in front of everyone. Which sure as shit explained why Max wouldn’t let go of his sweaty hand. 

The story made Billy queasy, and he took to studying everyone in the room instead. 

All the kids were there, even the one that had been following Steve around like a little shadow, but they were all glaring in the very much opposite direction of Steve. 

Steve himself was pressed almost against the wall, looking like he’d collapse if the wall weren’t supporting him. 

“What’s up with the cold shoulder?” Billy muttered to Max.

“They’re mad at Steve right now. He’s been lying to us all.”

It was all he got out of her before everyone started moving around. 

The woman, Joyce Byers, he’s learned, had finished her story, and the group from the Upside Down had begun clamoring for rides home, or maybe something to eat. 

Billy just saw Steve manage to slip away before he followed him. 

It took some doing, shaking off the little one, who still wasn’t speaking, and looked ready to burst into tears when Billy told him to stay behind in the living room. 

But Janet Holloway took the kid’s other hand and gently led him back into the living room. 

Billy nodded at her, and sped up the stairs. 

It was weird, being in Harrington’s actual room. 

It was messy, and looked like Steve spent most of his time here tossing clothes on the ground or twisting up in his bed covers like a tornado. 

But it was oddly comforting. 

Being in Steve’s real room, and not some perverse dirty copy. 

Steve was standing, facing the bed, peeling his borrowed jacket from his shoulders and leaving it there on the floor.

“I never said thank you.”

Steve startled at Billy’s voice.

“Yeah. No problem.” Steve’s tone was light and airy, but Billy heard him sniff.

“Max said the little shitbirds are mad at you. Something about you lying.” 

Steve turned around, giving Bily a watery smile.

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

So Steve told him. 

About the lab. 

About the experiments. 

About the torture. 

He explained that he had rules. Never making anyone feel something they already didn’t. Never altering someone’s opinion of, or feelings towards him. 

Billy grit his teeth as he imagined Wheeler giving Steve a hard time about that.

Steve was silent for a moment, not looking at Billy.

“It’s okay if you hate me. I mean, everyone does now.”

“You'd be able to feel if I hated you. You and those powers of yours just saved my life, Pretty Boy. I’m pretty sure I’m feeling the farthest thing from hatred just about now.”

It was as close to a confession as Billy would let himself get. 

But if Steve knows what he’s feeling at any given moment, then that means that he knows, and he didn’t-

“Quit it. Insecurity isn’t a good look on you.”

Steve sounded tired, and he flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms out. 

At first, it didn’t sit quite right with Billy. 

He had barely even begun to identify what he was feeling when Steve swooped in and just point blank told him what the emotion was. 

Billy spent nearly all of his time being a big fuckin’ facade. 

He tried his very best to hide any emotional tell from anyone around him. 

He prided himself on being a chameleon. That nobody would ever truly know how he felt in any given situation. 

And here’s pretty boy Steve Harrington. Who is feeling just as, if not more, strongly as Billy is. 

But, it takes out all the parts of emotions that Billy hates dealing with. 

Showing them. Talking about them. 

He’d never once had to grapple with the words to explain how he feels to Steve. 

Steve would just. 

He’d know. 

And god, that’s kind of a nice idea. 

Billy sat down gently on the bed. 

“Alright.”

Steve’s head popped up to stare incredulously at Billy. 

Billy just grinned at him. 

[eartht137]

DEAREST HEART- Letter One

Okay, For The Better has got me at a standstill. Every time I go to write the next chapter, I get a very "bad" idea and I have to write it in to meld with what I have in mind, but as my birthday is approaching in 2 days and Halloween is quickly approaching, I have developed a very new and delicious idea. I thought up this story in the shower. Hear me out, okay? The blinds that cover the window in my bathroom fell, and I mean fell from the wall, so I had to take a shower in the dark with a candle. Well it gets pretty muggy in my bathroom, as there's not a lot of room, so I opened the window to get some air, well with the wind blowing and the leaves rustling I kinda got that weird feeling that someone was watching me (which I highly doubt). In this story the character/you are a new wife and mom and you've been unmotivated to do normal chores and upkeep due to de pression and anxiety. I kinda wanted to touch on some real topics that I felt may resonate as I've noticed there is a lot of depression and anxieties that have been major high and I just wanted to send a small message that you are seen, you are heard, you are worthy, you are loved. Even if it is in your own world, I'd rather have my own world that I can escape to and have things go my way than keep taking on the pressure of things we deal with everyday. Also this is another Dark Clark Kent. I know, I know, the idea of the man just does something to me. So with that curvies, I present to you Dearest Heart. Okay rant over for the day. Please proceed..........oh yeah MMMMMMmwwwwwwaaahhhhhhh

Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Non Con, somnophilia, masturbation, stalking, mentions of impregnation. Maybe other things too. MINORS DNI!!!

You were getting up and ready for work, since starting your new job, you'd found yourself a bit out of balance. Being a new wife and mom, trying to adjust, you'd found yourself falling in and out of a reel of depression and anxiety. You very rarely had the energy or drive to clean and sometimes your depression got you to a point where you didn't really want to keep up your hygiene. Finally, you'd gotten the burst of life you needed and decided to make use of it while you had the drive. You started keeping up your hygiene as you used to and cleaned your house day by day. You started cherishing more moments with your husband and son. You had noticed the more you took effort within the day, it helped you feel a bit better everyday. One day, you stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air and sunlight. As you were getting ready to head back inside, you saw a letter place neatly on the bars of you security door with small rose. You tilted you head in confusion and looked around. You took the letter, seeing that it had "Dearest Heart' written beautifully across the front. You walked inside while admiring the vintage parchment envelope.

"Baby?" Your husband asked curiously, making you look up and smile as he and your son watched you.

"Well I think the mailman left someone else's mail-again." You sighed tossing the letter down on the table by your door. You went over and spent the remainder of you free time with your husband and son before heading into your office and logging on for work.

On your first break, you rushed out of your office hoping to spend time with your loved ones. You giggled as you watched your husband and son sleep with their mouths wide open on your couch. You were about to step into the bathroom when you got the nagging urge to go back and look at the letter again. You stared at it from across the room a moment before finally giving in to curiosity and grabbing it. You studied it for a moment before your husband adjusting on the couch startled you. You quietly went to the bathroom and examined the letter. Looking at your phone, you realized you didn't have much time, and would just open it to see what it looked like inside. A very hopeful side of you prayed that in your head that it was filled with cash that some good saint just felt in their heart to give, but you knew that was a slim chance. When you opened the letter, you almost gasped, almost like a child feeling as if you if you'd just done something forbidden. The alarm on you phone vibrated and you jumped, the letter dropped from you hands. You laughed a bit at yourself, picked up the letter, tucked it away and went back to work.

One your lunch break, after making something to eat for yourself and your hungry boys, you found yourself practically lured back to the bathroom to find the letter you'd tucked away for later. You opened it and pulled out a very beautifully written letter, but the first line damn near made your heart stop. You read it over and over trying to make sure you weren't seeing things, but there it was in black in, your name. You took a deep breath and continued reading the letter.

My Dearest Y/n,

I promised myself I wouldn't try to interfere in your life, but my heart won't let my stand idly by. I know this is abrupt as you've never seen me in your life, at least you don't remember meeting me, its been so long ago; but I can't keep quiet about this anymore as my love for you has yet to subside. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I swore I'd never lie to you and I am a man of my word. You might be a little worried as to how I know you, where you live-but you'd be shocked at how much I know about you and it'd scare you to know how long I've watched over you. Little love, I've been a bit disappointed in you. You allowed yourself to get to far down and instead of talking it out, you've been bottling everything in. We both know how that ends. You can talk to me if you need to, but I was really disappointed in how you allowed things to get. You weren't getting out of bed, you weren't keeping your hygiene up, and you weren't keeping the house up; on top of that, you haven't been utilizing any of your self-care tools. You didn't leave the house for a month and you cried every night by yourself because you're too stubborn to get out of your own head for two seconds and let the people who love you in. You were also finding a new lie every week to call into to work, that was disappointing darling because you don't have to lie, just tell them you need a day for your health, you don't owe them anymore explanation than that, but I don't want you to lie again. Do you remember those 2 weeks your backside was sore and stinging and you couldn't figure out why? I'm so sorry dear heart but I had to light a fire in you some way, and I just can't allow you to behave in such a way. I also can't stand to see the woman I love not take care of herself. On another note, I do want to tell you how proud of you I have been with how much you love and care for our son. He's growing so big isn't he? Oh darling, I know you think he's your husbands, but I guarantee he is my flesh and blood, why do you think he stares at me so long when he sees my photo pass your screen. His blood is my blood, he knows who he is. I have decided dear heart, to be a bit more active in your life as I have come to realize that my standing by protecting in the shadows is not enough. It will be awhile my love, but one day we will be together. You, Me and our son. I love you both so much, I promise you we will be a family as we should one day. For now I will continue to watch from the distance and protect you when you need me. I will also be there to talk whenever you just want to talk out loud. Before I end this letter, I want to also tell you how proud I am that you've started writing. I love the stories you've been writing about me and I promise to fulfill every one of you desires as soon as the time is right. Only this time, you'll be able to enjoy it as much as I have. I will be writing again, you don't have to reply, but it would be nice. Keep up the good work sweetheart, I love you.

With All My Heart and Soul,

Kal-El

Your heart pounded in your ears, you forgot to breath and tears filled your eyes. You kept trying to convince yourself it was a prank, but the more you tried to deny it, the more you knew it was real. You sat thinking to yourself, when you'd written a story about him, you didn't know anyone named Kal-El. You immediately started walking around your house making sure every window and door was locked. You wanted to tell your husband, but once again the gut feeling told you not to, and you'd realized that your gut was really on point and that just made things scarier.

You finished you lunch break and the rest of that day unable to concentrate on anything. That night while you took a shower, you kept looking through the blinds to see if you'd see someone. On one had you wanted to see if there was someone really there and on the other you felt you'd probably shit yourself if you really saw someone. After a moment or two, you'd finally convinced yourself it was a sick prank and someone in the neighborhood was being an idiot. You laughed a bit and finished up, ready to finally get the sleep you'd been begging for all day. As you laid in bed, every noise made you jump. Every time something or someone would move, you'd go from the precipice of sleep to fully awake. You had been feeling watched for the longest time and you'd just blamed it on being crazy, but now with the letter confirming your nightmare, you really had no idea what to do. Your mind ran and ran until it finally shut itself down and you drifted off to a very peaceful sleep despite everything going on around you.

He sat in the corner of your dark room watching you breath calmly. He wanted so badly to go over and rock you to sleep as he watched you struggle to fall asleep, but he couldn't present himself to you just yet, not until everything was perfect the way we wanted it before he showed himself.

He sat there watching you from the other side of the room knowing that soon you'd throw the covers off of your plush body exposing your luscious curves that he loved feeling in his large hands. His hand stroked himself as he thought back to the first night he took you. You were sleeping so good, you didn't hardly move. His released his hard thick cock from their restraints and pumped himself as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. He thought back to the first time he tasted your nipples, how hard they got when he kissed and nipped them. How wet you got for him and how he once made you cum from playing with them only. He then thought about how delicious you were. His fist moving faster and rougher down his shaft. He remembered how tight you were when he first fucked you. How hot and juicy you were as he pumped deep into your soft pussy filling you with every inch of him. He wanted to ruin you, and he wished you could see the happiness he felt when you couldn't cum one night from yours or your husbands touches. His hand pumped faster as he remembered fucking you so good one night your orgasm woke you as you came, as disappointed as he was that he couldn't feel you cum around him, he was still proud to have your body so responsive for him. That sent him over the edge and he came hard wanting so badly to empty inside of you. He wanted to see you round with his baby again, but he wanted to allow you the time to fully heal. He used one of your husbands shirts to wipe himself clean, and he gave you a soft peck on the lips, smiling when you turned away.

"I love you so much. I promise things will be right soon. Sleep well dearest heart." He whispered before leaving. He couldn't wait until you found his next letter.

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

��I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

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