#truly whacky

[limerental]

even as a card-carrying TWN enjoyerTM, I found the Tissaia/ Vilgefortz romance so incredibly frustrating, like this series has taken female characters that in the book were just there to thirst for Geralt and be love triangle foder (Triss and Fringilla) and turn them into multilayered characters highlighted by their relationships to multiple characters outside of just romance then there is Tissaia who like you said is never thirsting for anyone unlike every other sorceress in the books is arguably the best secondary character played by the best performer in the show ( Mimi as Fringilla is a close second) who was so fascinating to watch and analyze whenever she was on screen based on a book character that pretty much nobody really thought much about until then

when I saw the first part of S3 I legitimately thought the romance had to be a red herring, it felt so OOC for her, he had to be controlling her through magic, it would have highlighted his misogyny and need to control women to get what he wanted and also confirm that despite how powerful she is, he is still the most powerful mage on the continent and would highlight just how dangerous his is for things going forward

( sorry for how rambly this is)

My struggle with it is that Tissaia and Yennefer's relationship is one of the most interesting, standout things that sets it apart from other witcher media in a good way and the complexity of minor female side characters is such a strength with the show in general so whyyyy on earth would Tissaia's motivations need to be changed to romantic ones?

For one, Vilgefortz most literally already had a complicated love interest (Lydia) who is chronically underexplored in the books. And secondly, Tissaia de Vries? That's a lesbian.

Anyway I think the writers had a clear agenda to try and distract us from how much book Vilgefortz has the hots for Geralt. They read time of contempt and were like uh oh. We have to give him a heterosexual love interest or this is gonna look weird.

Thats also why they cut most of their conversation. Not because it was boring and political but because it oozed slutty flirtation.

What was I talking about.

Oh yeah, forever baffled by the choice to take a character whose main stance at Thanned is how genocide and war are bad to participate in and change her main stance to "My boyfriend Vilgefartz could never be evil because I wuv him"

[plantanarchy]

interesting thing today was i was planting up the trial poinsettias and on some of the tags they had a label with a bar code and i was able to figure out that the label was actually the name of the worker who had taken the initial cuttings.

in ethiopia. all the names were ethiopian. these particular poinsettia cuttings shipped from ethiopia about a month ago to somewhere in michigan where they were rooted out and then sent here in pennsylvania where they were planted and will live here for the next five months.

[vero-niche]

canon bi rep?????? in MY anime???????????

[marblebees]

So i can confirm, onimai is adorable and very very cute but I think. I cant stand slice of life series that meander……like either do episodic stories or go overarching….it just feels like im reading a time loop every time i start a new slice of life manga. That said;

This literally happened to me in real life

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients. 

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously.  “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes.  Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind.  He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk.  “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving.  And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends.  Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes.  “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her.  Christ, she was relentless.  Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends.  That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair.  She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret?  I need to know all the facts first.  Especially if I have to keep it from my brother.  And Steve.  And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose.  She was right.  Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly.  “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention.  And truth be told?  Harrington needs a break.  So does my niece.  And your friends?  They need some time with mom and dad.  You do, too.  But right now?  You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them.  And quite frankly?  I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them.  Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding.  She pursed her lips, considering this.  Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.  Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him.  Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams.  There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast.  She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe. 

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve. 

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up. 

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world. 

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom. 

Hopper and Murray were out of the question. 

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it. 

And Argyle?  Well, he’d said about as much as he could say.  Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.  

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket.  Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly.  “It’s uhh, yeah.  Plagued at this point.  Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk.  “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, Vecna.  Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see.  She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything.  After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it.  And the way she and Robin had started off?  Not great.  Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck.  Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house.  But they weren’t exactly best friends.  Friends for sure.  But not like Nancy and Barb had been.  Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused.  “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there.  Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained.  “You two were thick as thieves.  She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness.  “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled.  “Always.  Saved them on little flashcards and everything.  She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’  Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that.  She shook her head, grinning widely.  “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip.  Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time.  As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted.  “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly.  “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.  

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky.  “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know?  Not just to tell her how sorry I am.  For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off.  Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook.  “So many questions, like…like the way we used to.  As best friends.  About — everything.  Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know.  Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter.  Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state.  Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington.  Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant.  The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life.  However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.  

Barb had been that for Nancy.  But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked.  She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip.  “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to.  Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant.  She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together.  It just…just...worked.  Clicked, made sense.  Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real.  Really real.  Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy.  But I didn’t really.  Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for.  Ever.  Not once.  He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him.  Not the other way around.  All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight.  But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept.  And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly.  “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone.  And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was.  The way that I still am.  But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”  

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it.  H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him.  Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.  

Robin knew she meant Barb.  She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry.  For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone.  All the time.  And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside.  Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice.  “He loves her, and s-she loves him back.  S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him.  And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…?  Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with?  I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her.  “It’s not selfish.  It’s human.  Steve is amazing.  But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now.  She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes.  They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset.  “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it.  “You’re right, I did.  We did.  Me and Eddie.  But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically.  Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers.  “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey.  You had each other.  Steve?  Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman.  Because back then, he didn’t know yet.  He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly.  “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly.  “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once.  Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do.  On his own.  Dustin was the first to reach out to him.  Well, he basically forced himself on Steve.  And Steve needed that.  He’s an only child.  He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him.  You have Mike.  Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued.  “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults.  He got left behind to watch the kids with her.  They went through…a lot of shit that night.  You did, too.  But so did they.  They fought off Billy Hargrove.  They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels.  They survived the night together.  You know what that feels like.  You and Jonathan bonded that way.  Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing.  Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids.  And that was great.  Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth.  Like, some sort of femme tomboy.  Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way.  At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze.  “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright?  You know you’re beautiful.  You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years.  That’s not even a question.”  

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.  

“...but Steve had to move on.  Or…find ways to convince himself that he could.  And Bauman?  She was there for that.  She was around, during all his growth.  And trust me – it was ugly.  You have nothing to envy there.  God, the way that they argued?  The way Steve talked to her, honestly?  Honestly.  You would’ve slapped him.  I sure as hell did a few times.  Mostly verbal slapping.  But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie.  You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth.  You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it.  She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now.  And she owned up to her shit, too.  It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault.  But hey, she took the hits.  Many times.  And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over.  Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture.  Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it.  But still, they got through shit together.  They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians?  She and Steve honestly kept me so sane.  And they kept us safe, too.  Me, Dustin and Erica.  They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world?  They did.  They didn’t even think twice.  Steve grew into a way better person because of her.  And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids.  She didn’t grow up with siblings either.  That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression.  Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot.  But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone.  Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it.  Shit, we didn’t know it either.  That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray.  Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed.  “I know that.”

“Of course you do.  We all do.  He does, too.  Especially now.  Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that.  She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast.  “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him.  Or him.  I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up.  Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her.  “Because who he was then, is not who he is now.  And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised.  “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently.  “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive.  “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused.  “But…what about after he got back?  What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.  She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started.  “...we just…moved past it.  We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly.  “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped.  “I’m so sick of it.  I always have to push him to tell me things.  He just — shuts me out.  Clams up, retreats.  He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods.  “That’s definitely on him.  But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.  

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers.  “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens.  “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles.  “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.  

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair.  “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did.  That he would.  That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms.  They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle.  Nancy has said enough for now.  It would all unravel itself more over time. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.  

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica.  They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.  

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying.  She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier.  Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin.  He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool.  “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected.  She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while.  It terrified him, making his anxiety spike.  Had he lost her?  Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table.  Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable.  So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water.  Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in.  Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle. 

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin. 

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously. 

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone.  Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that.  Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden.  Out of sight.  Quiet.  On high alert.  It’s a gamble.  Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread.  He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there.  And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold. 

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering. 

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against.  We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there.  Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look.  They knew this wasn’t going to go well.  At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick.  This also meant leaving Will behind.  “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly.  “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time.  El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back.  She can’t.  I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes.  “But as far as the rest of you kids go?  No more.  It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here.  But if this is how it’s gotta go down?  You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense. 

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit.  He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low.  “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce.  And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side.  Those kids are going to raise hell.  All of them are.  And this plan is not changing.  It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot.  Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is.  Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table.  “I’m counting on you.  I know that’s not fair, but I am.  You’re tough as nails.  You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends.  Your friends.  You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him.  I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it.  Whatever you have to say?  Say it.  And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me.  Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression.  But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said.  “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence.  Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us.  She can’t be now.  And Steve cannot hang back.  He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle.  And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it.  She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce.  “Tell me.  If she tries pulling a fast one?  You tell me.  Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.  Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son.  “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically.  “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms.  “We’ll have to be scarce about it.  Selective.  Nowhere is safe.  It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety.  Leaving you behind?  The kids?  Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you.  He was an extension of you.  The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked?  Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?  

Was there actually an end to this nightmare?  A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe.  Yes.  Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing.  It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered.  Every little girl does.  In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination.  The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want.  The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after.  The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl.  How could you not?  It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much.  You’d been made to grow up from a very young age.  Your grandmother had been there for you enough.  She kept a roof over your head.  Food on the table.  A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work.  You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely.  You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so.  She was gone a lot.  She wasn’t very old.  Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time.  A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant."  You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it.  She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support.  Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted.  You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city.  It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife.  It was cool, for the most part.  But it definitely meant being able to hold your own.  She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far.  He was home a lot.  Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much.  He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that.  It meant consistency.  His spare room basically became your room.  It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over.  You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it.  The two of you got along effortlessly.  His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray.  That’s where you got it from.  But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his.  He was all over the place.  You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often.  Your uncle was definitely an oddball.  But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied.  You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world.  It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself.  It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start.  A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time.  Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one.  There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.  

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin.  Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds.  But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love.  In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them.  But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together.  It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again.  Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon.  He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright.  Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch.  As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody.  Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards.  Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her.  He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max?  Always.  

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear.  He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve.  Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together.  Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.  

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.  

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh.  “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected.  “I got a better idea.  Tell your most embarrassing story.  One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering.  “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy.  “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed.  “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink.  “Trust me.  She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand.  “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn.  “One time?  I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand.  “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him.  “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time.  El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled.  “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard.  It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high.  All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too.  Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk.  All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy.  It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots.  Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright.  You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving.  And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end.  Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group.  Technically, Erica was too.  But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space.  She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door.  That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him.  After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you.  His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be.  But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses.  Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you.  “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it.  The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have.  But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out?  All of them wanted this. The two of you together.  They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable.  “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot?  It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively. 

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered. 

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready.  Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.  

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts. 

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas. 

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered. 

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. 

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?” 

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper. 

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party.  (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends.  Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.”  (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way.  It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe.  In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other.  He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago.  Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving.  You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.”  Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing.  You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress.  It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you.  Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined.  There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets.  And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once.  Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit.  He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head.  Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts.  And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them.  Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world.  Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him.  All of you were there.  Will was there, next to all his friends.  You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper.  Even your Uncle Murray.  

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique. 

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her.  She was alive, as were the rest of you.  Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.  

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together.  You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you.  It's been light.  Hopeful. 

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift.  It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling.  You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you.  A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze.  He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room.  Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully.  “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent.  He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye.  “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes.  He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind.  You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin.  The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.  

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar.  But you could really get used to it.  It’s new.  And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well.  Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him.  Likely because of Hopper.  Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn.  Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil.  Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind.  Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug.  She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand.  You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy.  Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost.  But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see.  She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room.  For Nancy, that had been…hard.  Necessary, but hard.  For multiple reasons.  For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting.  Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong.  But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night.  Not yet.  Not after everything that had unfolded.  So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart.  But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed.  Just what the doctor ordered.  Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist.  Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon.  But he was the much simpler kind.  Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting.  Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed.  A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends.  Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy.  Robin was very different from Barb.  However, her heart was just as loving.  She loved hard, and it showed.  She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return.  And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him.  And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve.  And she even began to feel some happiness for you.  Not completely.  Not yet.  She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time.  A very long time.  But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.  

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions.  Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast.  And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet.  The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household.  Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens.  It wasn’t like all the other times.  This was different.  Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them.  Comfortable.  It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others.  And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks.  Their faces were somber, a bit grim.  Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands.  Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous.  Maybe even afraid. 

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed.  And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got.  Tension spread around the room.  It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound.  They hadn’t uttered a single word.  Not one of them.  The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards.  They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines.  The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils. 

One list of names would be hiding out here.  The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk.  Both teams could die.  Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat.  His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish.  His mind races, but his lips don’t move.  Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards.  The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him.  And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened.  Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now.  You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group.  With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did.  He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control.  He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards.  Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud.  He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica.  Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue.  He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother.  He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance.  Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated.  He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride.  But even so, he looked conflicted.  Really conflicted.  

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie.  She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it.  You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards.  Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs.  While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently.  As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious.  Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy.  Did they know this was coming?  Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them.  The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly.  “Truthfully, it’s not owed.  I know that.  Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me.  Not those guys out there.  Hence why I’m here.  And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things.  Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned.  Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense.  He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before.  There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were.  “If it were up to me?  None of you would be out there.  I’d be out there on the frontlines.  But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here.  Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect.  The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this.  We’ll be surrounded from all angles.  No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.  

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman.  I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction.  It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear.  He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self.  He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught?  What do we do?  Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward.  “We’ve thought about that.  Right now, there’s only 2 options.  But they’re solid.  The best we’ve got right now.  One more than the other.  See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up.  And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life.  His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed.  Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter.  They had him beat, and he knew it.  He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen.  It was so unexpected that he did as she said.  But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion.  As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t.  Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend.  Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense.  That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike.  Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement.  Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop.  “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled.  “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”  

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown.  Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him.  Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them.  All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this.  After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes. 

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack.  He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand.  Please Steve, please, let me go with you.  Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug.  The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time.  Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley.  She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf.  You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well.  His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.  

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end.  She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame.  “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs.  Jonathan watched her go, panicking.  He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading.  You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated.  You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side.  Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.  

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life.  Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest.  He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them.  He couldn’t.  If he did, he’d failed them.  But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway.  He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them.  For them. 

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed.  The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him.  He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.  

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first.  Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul. 

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him.  I understand.  I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand. 

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language.  I love you and I hate this.  But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast.  He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain. 

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.  

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El.  They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.  

This plan was not open for discussion.  

This plan was not open for debate.  

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

[animentality]

Western anime fans are the most entitled crybabies in the world.

They demand jjk level animation for everything and don't care about the real human beings being abused/exploited. They bitch and complain endlessly but have never made anything of artistic value themselves.

"Why can't they just overwork and underpay artists who need to make a living so that I can sit at home all day watching shiny moving pictures dance across my monitor-"

you are a fucking consumer. you are not an artist.

you offer nothing of value, if you are not truly supporting artists and their art. you sit at home in your skidmark underwear and sweaty discount kimono with Cheeto dust snowing from your beard to your lap, and you complain about blue lock or uzumaki or tower of god and say it's the animators who are talentless -

I know this is difficult for you to comprehend, but they have a fucking job to do.

when studios cut corners, they stop paying artists.

artists can usually not afford to work passionately on projects, without being fairly compensated in return.

god I hate Western anime fans.

I swear there's no other group of fans that's more entitled... except maybe kpop stans who expect their favorite band members to never marry, date, or look at anyone else.

also, they're really fucking unfair too.

a normal person wouldn't notice the kind of animation they call "bad."

but they go fucking nuts when a single background character looks kinda whacky or there's some obvious CGI here and there for some background bullshit that you see for .0002 seconds.

complete and utter garbage people. you call anime and manga an art, but you don't support artists?

fucking clowns.

[nandermoenthusiast]

and by the way guillermo offering his hand to his boss to help him down the chair, him calling his boss master, him struggling with the morality of what the company is doing for profit… it doesnt really feel like much has changed in his life and the way he operates

and in the end him hanging out with his coworkers and doing stupid normal shit with them, him feeling validated and valued by his peers for once, or him climbing the corporate ladder, i think its all gonna feel a little bit pointless and a little too easy for him, and humans are ultimately gonna feel a little bit alien, people he cant really be himself with, not all of himself. i am truly hoping he ends up realising living a human life is not what he wants either, that hes not gonna be happy with that in the long run, and he figures out that hes only ever happy when hes around his whacky vampiric found family, and nandor specifically <3

[vechter]

top 5 dick & bruce fic recs + comic recs?? (you don’t have to do both though!)

batman/nightwing: bloodborne (2002) comic of all time, truly. one of my fav characterizations for dick. he's a complex, hyper-competent and intense character. he's never gonna recover from his devotion to bruce. whacky comic shenanigans, some absolutely heartbreaking narration from dick, really insanely well done details about dick and bruce's dynamic- all the things that go unsaid between them, all the things that can remain unsaid because they know each other so, so well.

batman: dark victory (1999) dick doesn't appear till issue #8, i think but it's one of my fav origin stories for robin. dick is a grieving, angry kid trying to make sense of this new world around him as an orphan and you can see why bruce thought he could help him. and he does! some amazing parallelism, great art, stellar dialogue. also, just the whole comic itself (even the issues without dick) are a great introduction to gotham and its rogues and how exactly batman serves as the city's protector. selina is fantastic in it, too.

let them live!: unpublished tales from the DC vault (2021) #2 this is a one-shot story that is mostly nightwing-centric but his competence and confidence are really well-written here. i'm putting it here because the moments between bruce and dick (even tho they're on comms) are great. bruce is both batman and father, torn between coordinating/ strategizing with nightwing and being torn by his worry for dick. you can see why people think dick and bruce are cut from the same cloth but you can also see exactly why dick is the only thing that bruce thinks he did right.

year one: batman/scarecrow (2005) this is a mini-series with dick in his early robin years. the dynamic between them is absolutely great. dick offers exceptional support and empathy to bruce, but there's also elements of playfulness and light-heartedness. there's some great detective work going on, the plot keeps you pulled in and you're able to understand why dick and bruce are so insane about each other. dick understands bruce so, so well even this early on. also has one of my favourite quotes from dick about batman. "you...really that scared of me?" "yeah. in a god-fearing kind of way." father figures as gods you will always be famous to me. although this is a very subpar origin story for scarecrow but also, he's a sub-par rogue to me anyway lol

batman (1940) #615 this is unfortunately in the middle of the loeb's hush arc so it's a bit of a slog to get through but this particular issue has a great dynamic for dick and bruce. mostly dialogue and narration centric tho, dick and bruce are in a good place in terms of their relationship and it shows! also just how much dick means to bruce even if he can never say it.

honourable mentions to teen titans spotlight (1986) #14, robin (1993) #13, batman (1940) #590, detective comics (1937) #725, the entire batman: bruce wayne- murderer/fugitive arc (2002) and robin: year one (2000) for some of their best moments as well

also, fic recs- there's toooo many but anything by @dustorange, @nighhtwing and @bluegarners is a delight to read, you should check out all their works on ao3!!!

and if you're looking for the most compelling, devastating dick grayson characterization ever,,,, that makes you feel unhinged, then i'd recommend persephone's in hell.

[patrice-bergerons]

Bless Torchwood and its 2-in-1 emotional damage and whacky plot device specials. In this episode, we will explore how you can love someone so much that you can't let them go even if it costs everything-- what's that? IT'S A VELOCIRAPTOR PECKING AT A CYBERWOMAN BECAUSE SHE'S BEEN DOUSED IN BBQ SAUCE! Owen wants the team to fry his brain with formaldehyde because being undead and turning into something else is no life worth living-- A METAL GLOVE IS ATTACKING MARTHA'S FACE!!! who else does it like them truly

[a-s-levynn]

About those new masks..

So i saw this take a few times already and i have some thoughts. Obviously it's paraphrasing but you'll see these a lot similar to this if you scroll in ST spaces since yesterday:

"These new masks have too much personality, they said the people behind the music is uniportant but they now have this new personalized look instead of the uniform sleek minimalist one and it is the direct opposite of what they are saying. These new looks do not fit Sleep Token"

Let me preface this: I'm not going to explore specific reasons why people might hate on the masks because... No i refuse to go there, but i will talk about the issues i have around this a bit.

No.

If you are hating on the new masks so much so as to cry about that "this is not what they supposed to be about" you are missing your own point. You are in fact shooting the opposite direction. You are no longer in it for "just the music" but you are very much caught upon the "everything else beside the music." You got distracted. You putting the blame on them instead on yourself for loosing your own point.

There is no moral highground in this whole ordeal. Please respect yourself enought to try not to look utterly stupid if you frothing about something you visibly misunderstood. Do not hide behind excuses. Do not put this on the artists. Own up to the fact that you simple don't like it.

Admit that it's your opinion purely; because ultimately the artist creating their own art will understand creative choices behind their creations more than you ever will. No matter how far you try to bend backwards.

The masks fit Sleep Token because it is Sleep Token who decided to have them. End of story. You can hate it all you want but it is still part of the shabang now. And don't try to mask your distaste over visuals with shouting about the artist not understanding their own ideology.

If you are so hung up on how they look like, more than what the music still is, than stop and think for a second please.. You have it backwards. If you really truly only care about the music, what it is about, what it gives you, than you are not going to give a shit what they are wearing on stage.

Maybe in a passing few sentences but otherwise you are not going to be worked up about it to the point you sent hatecomments to the artist who made them.. It is shameful.

Besides i hate to break it to people but they already had their personalities with their outfits just not this strongly. III had the random whacky shit. IV had the hint's of this comfy leisurly punk-ish techwear whatever going on besides the fancy stuff the past a months since the summer. II had a slightly sleeker but maybe sort of tech-ish look which is now reflected (in my opinion) much more strongly with this new look (which sorta reminds me of a stylized oni or something tbh and that is extremely in line with their older far-east inspired thematics visually, just saying).

They are not handing you the "we are unimportant" part anymore. They are not spoonfeeding it to you. Not in the way they had before at least. They presume you are mature and smart enough at this point to get it. To get to the conclusion that it is unimportant what they look like. And allow them to still have fun with it.

Or just they are being cheeky and went for something that would shake up the people. I don't know, i don't know them or anyone close to them. I don't have answers. But they are trying something new an it is perfectly fine.

Also which would have come off so much differently if Vessel is 100% btw. Be honest, if they would have been able to perform to their fullest abilities, far less people would be so loud over this.. This was just an unfortunate turn of events and when shit hits the fan it usually never just one dose. And my heart breaks for the boys for all this.

Besides, people were so loud about hating that "they looked the same" and "so hard to distinguish" and "easy to replace because of this" ... now they have personalized masks and looks and the same people cry about the exact opposite they did before..

Also it just occured to me that this is basically the same as the lightshow upgrade. It gives you something to look at at the rituals. The new looks are visually interesting, and with the lighting setup they have now they are gonna look like some seriously fun nightmare creatures btw. I love that already.

So all in all i don't know, i don't really have a point here i guess, but the boys are in such a no win situation right now and i hate the fact that people are shitting on them just because they don't fit their idea of "an anonymous collective" anymore. Which is reddiculous and sad because nothign has changed.

It never was about being a blank page. It was about being human. It flies over so many peoples head but the anonymity part isn't about not being a person under there. It is being about that person not having a name. It doesn't matter if the person has a personality or not. What matter there is that no name.

There is no definitiveness. It gives an open invitation for anyone to step into that person but first you need to recognise that there is a person there. And there is no doing that if there are no traces of personality. Or humanity if you will because personalities makes us humans. Don't make me hold a philosophy lecture here on what it means being human please.

It does not matter who that individual it is by tagging a name on them. But it is extremely important that there is a person there. Otherwise there is no connection point. If there is no person there is nothing to understand. But it does not matter how that person looks like. It does not matter what the person wears. Or what that person is called. What matters is that it is a human being. And as such you can understand it. Our at least you should be able to.

Regardless of the design of a mask.

[plantanarchy]

things today: tropical shipment first thing. unloaded it in a thunderstorm. didn't have time to water almost anything but it was meant to rain all day so i thought that would be fine. it didn't rain all day. forgot my sunglasses rip. unpacked and priced all the tropicals with help and then started the effort of moving some down for sale. golf cart cut out on me just as I was starting my second trip. just was chugging along and stalled rip. the boss attempted to fix it but was stumped so no golf cart for restocking. restocking right now is constant. Rip. Switched to restocking by cart. got a $20 tip for moving palm trees (a rarity) but I'm also like. Good God those people spent $1k on palm trees but also were really nice? 28k steps which breaks my record of all time. anyway

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

what did the Doctor mean when he said the Time Lords invented black holes? (The Satan Pit)

Did the Time Lords invent black holes?

When the 10th Doctor claimed that the Time Lords 'invented black holes,' he implied that they created them. And although they have a lot to do with black holes, there's a slight problem with this statement.

Knowing 10 as well as we do, this is probably a bit of an exaggeration to be even more impressive, but his statement's rooted in some complex aspects of Gallifreyan history and the development of Time Lord technology.

🌌 The Time Lords and the 'Creation' of Black Holes

Omega and Rassilon were the key figures behind the Time Lords' mastery of black hole technology—during the Dark Times, a period when the universe did not yet fully obey the laws of physics as we know them, Omega and Rassilon, they say, destroyed the star Qqaba to create a black hole. This black hole was then suspended in a state of perpetual collapse, with its vast potential energy harnessed to power all of Gallifreyan society, particularly all the time travel technology. This suspended black hole is known as the Eye of Harmony.

🧑‍⚕️ The Doctor's Statement

However, as your thought trail would have uttered, 'But black holes happen when stars die. How could they invent something that already existed?' ... well...

If we take the Doctor's words at face value:

Because in the Dark Times, the laws of physics were so sporadic and lifeforms were essentially immortal for a bit, stars might not have naturally died, meaning black holes as we understand them today didn't exist. Omega and Rassilon's actions could then be the first instance of a star's destruction. In this sense, they 'invented' the process, setting the stage for the universe to follow similar rules once the Web of Time was in place and the Universe was much more rational.

If we think 10 might be exaggerating a bit:

If stars did naturally die and collapse into black holes before the Time Lords' went poking around Qqaba, then the Doctor's statement is a bit more fanciful—implying that the Time Lords were the first to harness and control black holes, rather than literally inventing them.

🌀 The Legacy of Black Hole Technology

Either way, the Time Lords became very fond of using black hole technology, like Black Hole Carriers, and also used black holes as gateways into hyperspace. The extent of their manipulation was far beyond anything that had been done before or since, making their achievements in this area so profound that the Doctor's boast about 'inventing' black holes doesn't seem that whacky.

🏫 So...

When the Doctor said the Time Lords 'invented' black holes, he was probably talking more about the lengths to which his people went to control and harness them. Whether they truly 'invented' black holes in the sense of causing the first one or simply perfected the art of utilising them is entirely down to you and the Doctor's conscience of how much lying he does to humans in the effort to sound impressive.

Related:

💬|📱🕸️What does the Web of Time look like?: Overview on the Web of Time and its relevance.

💬|📱👁️What’s Eye of Harmony?: What this is and how it works, and how crucial it is to Time Lords.

💬|👤👑Why is Rassilon everywhere?: Who Rassilon is and why he's so important.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[itsokbbygrl]

Proper Education: A Dark!Joel Saltburn AU Chapter 1: Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x OFC!Reader (written in 2nd POV)

Chapter Rating: M for foul language, underage drinking, mentions of sexual activity and drug use

Word Count: 1.1k, just a baby chapter to kick things off (don't get used to this, most of these chapters will be monsters)

Reader Immersibility: OFC is insanely white coded (frankly this whole story is full of white nonsense), she is from an old money wealthy family that owns an estate from the Gilded Age in New York, she is 18 years old, a college freshman at University of Texas at Austin, and is considered beautiful by society's standards in 2006 which means she is thin, has long hair, and is able bodied. She is relatively smart, but by no means a scholar. She is very sociable and often uses her charm to get her way. Story is written in 2nd person POV so the reader can feel what she is feeling as the story progresses and to keep the reader’s perspective limited as things start to get weird whacky and wild, but it will be difficult for the average reader to see themselves as her physically (myself included, trust me).

Chapter Tags: 18+ MDNI, foul language, implied drug use, underage drinking, mentions of sexual activity, college freshman aged OFC, rich white people doing rich white people things, author is requesting that you suspend your disbelief for some of these things!!!, OFC's family estate is a real place but is not a family home, liberties are taken with regard to UTA student life, inspired by Saltburn

Dividers by @pommecita, story is not beta'd, just written and edited by yours truly

Yet do I fear thy nature;  It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness  To catch the nearest way.  -Lady Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 5

The car slows to a stop in front of the familiar old tower. The stone structure bleached by unrelenting ultraviolet rays from the unrelenting sun baring down an omnipresent heat. You’d almost forgotten what it was like, the Texan summer. Almost. 

Your driver removes your luggage from the trunk of the black town car as you exit from your seat and step into the perpetually sticky August air, shading your eyes with a hand at your brow so you can properly thank him before you reach for your purse and leave him with a generous tip. You can’t remember his name, but you’re thankful for his service nonetheless. You’ve long become accustomed to a variety of faces in your family’s employ weaving in and out of your life; he is simply another face and name to add to the ever-increasing register.  

Your family sent the majority of your things ahead of move-in day, the university easily agreeing to transport them to your suite in student housing, a benefit of having your last name on one of the buildings, you rationalize, leaving you with a single suitcase and weekend bag to attend to on your own as you make your way to the designated key pickup zone. 

You were regretting your choice of attire the farther you strode across campus. You’d spent the last three months of your summer break idling at your family’s Long Island estate. The cool sea air making you quickly forget how unabating the summer heat was in landlocked central Texas. Your family had escaped the annual calefaction just after your graduation, retreating from your home in the rolling hills of Austin to the cool serenity of the Island. The estate is grandiose, passed through generations and now belonging to your mother and father. A bit gaudy in its opulence, in your opinion, but you harbor many fond memories from your summers spent there throughout your life—running through the vast gardens, sunning yourself on the meticulously manicured lawns, learning to golf and play tennis and swim, and as you grew a bit older, partaking in the many lavish parties hosted by your parents and grandparents alike, kissing boys in secret corridors, drunkenly losing your virginity in the grand library, gleefully breaking your D.A.R.E. pledges with your dear sister and cousin in your bathroom the first time someone brings over a tiny plastic baggie full of unlabeled white powder. 

Your exposed skin glistened with sweat; low rise denim skirt clinging to the skin at your hips, skin beginning to chafe uncomfortably between your thighs. You were glad you’d opted to clip your hair up in a classic twist before you’d gotten off the plane, keeping your neck free from being insulated by your thick tresses. You’re thankful for the many trips to campus over your lifetime as you head towards the designated booth for freshmen to pick up their dorm keys. You’re a fourth generation Longhorn, a legacy, and you know you have a reputation to uphold. You try to keep your face poised, relaxed, friendly, as the growing beads of moisture begin to drip in tiny rivulets between your breasts and along the central dip of your spine. 

You introduce yourself to the upperclassman working the table for your building and complete the requisite paperwork before you’re handed your keys—one for your door, one for your personal mailbox—and instructed to stop in the lobby before you drop off your items so you can have your student identification badge issued. 

“Your ID works like a key to get into the building after 10pm. Don’t lose it,” you’re warned by the table attendant. 

“Thank you, I’ll be careful,” you answer congenially, leaving them with a charming smile before you head in the direction of your dorm. 

You find your building without issue and reluctantly have your picture taken by the residence hall staff for your student ID. They give you a rundown of the general building rules—curfew is 10pm, after which time only residents with their programmed ID badges will be permitted entrance, all overnight guests must be checked in at the front desk with a government or student ID, no alcohol or illicit drugs are permitted on the premises, smoking is not permitted inside the building—and you maintain eye contact with the staffer and smile and nod while you let their words flow in one ear and out the other. 

Once you finish signing your agreement to follow the established residence hall code of conduct, your student ID has been printed and programmed. You take the badge with kind smiles and ample thanks before you haul your luggage to the elevator and make your way to your assigned room. A private double room all to yourself. Your parents insisted, making sure you’d have enough space to study and relax in equal measure. 

“Sweetpea, you know how it is there, those RAs are not gonna be as lenient as your daddy and I with the,” your mother stops her sentence and gestures, mimicking smoking a joint with one hand and drinking from a bottle with the other. She had sat on the other end of the plush sofa with you as you debated which residence hall to choose after coming home after your new student orientation the previous spring. 

You scoffed and kicked out a leg, painted toes bumping her thigh. 

“What? I’m just sayin’, babydoll. You’re a good time, college is a good time, but the RAs can be real,” she lowers her voice, “cunts.” She snickers a laugh at her own crudeness. 

“Mama, I know. I just thought it was part of the,” you raise both of your hands, forefingers and middle fingers miming quotation marks in the air, “college experience to have a random roommate or whatever.” You look back at the brochures in front of you and sigh before relenting. “I guess you’re right. The privacy will be nice.”

“Damn straight, baby. Plus, you don’t have to worry about a roommate being around when you bring a nice young man home to fu—”

“MOM, jesus,” you cut her off, shaking your head as she laughs. 

“What?! Baby girl you are my daughter, that means you’re half of me, and I fully know what that entails, ok? No reason to be ashamed of it, you’re young and gorgeous. Enjoy it while it lasts,” she tips her glass of white wine in your direction. You reach for your own on the coffee table, lifting it to hers, allowing the crystal to clink and chime in cheers as you both take a sip. 

You use your new key to unlock your door and haul your bags inside, finding boxes stacked neatly in the corner for you to unpack. “Welcome home, I guess,” you say to the four walls you’ll call home for the next year.

Navigation: Chapter 2: coming soon | Series Masterlist

a/n: thank you for reading! this is a multi-chaptered work in process with new chapters being posted approximately every other Friday at or around 7pm CT (pending my work schedule changing to late shift). please consider not only liking, but reblogging and leaving a comment or tags to give me some feedback! reblogs are the only way content is circulated on this platform and are always appreciated!

follow @itsokbbygrl-notifs and subscribe to notifications to receive notice when new chapters are posted.

[dumpsterhipster]

🐸 a small update 🐸

Those of you who have been following my ✨writing journey✨ and my old TES fics may remember that for the last year and change I've been working towards breaking into traditional publication. Well, this week I signed with a literary agent, aka took my first significant step into that space. (For anyone unfamiliar with the whacky world of tradpub, an agent is the one who pitches your books to editors to try and get them picked up by a publishing house--most reputable publishers these days won't even take unagented submissions. It's something like a business partnership; you work together to get your books ready for publication and otherwise manage your career, and in return the agent takes a commission on the books they sell on your behalf.) The agent I've signed with is an absolute rockstar, and also a great fit for me and my writing. At this stage I'm mostly still feeling kind of stunned and overwhelmed, but also very excited for the future.

I wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone in fandom who's been so kind to me and encouraging of my writing every step of the way. I don't think this is something I'd have considered, and definitely wouldn't have had the courage to dive into headfirst, if it hadn't been for the support of my intrepid readers on AO3 and the truly incredible friends I've made through fandom. I appreciate you all so much! If this book (it's the Venice one, by the way) sells you're all getting a big shoutout in the acknowledgements.

All my love!

Bori

❤️🌻🌷🌈🐸

[ms-scarletwings]

A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines. 

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists. 

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion. 

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will.. 

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains. 

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one  more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

[wangxianficrecs]

Proud Author Spotlight

~*~

I'm writing a new fic for giggles, and I wanted to share it here.

I just want to contribute to the wealth of joy known as MDZS baking shows. XD I hope this brings as much laughter to readers as it does to me! *^_^*

🔒 will the cultivators Nail It?

by AmyNChan (@amynchan)

G, WIP, 5k, Wangxian

Summary: Nichole Byer and Jacques Torres have seen many things in this world! They've tasted strange concoctions and burnt cookies and cakes decorated with uncooked ramen! However, are they ready—truly ready—for the chaos about to come? Join them and their mysterious guest judge for another whacky episode of Nailed It!

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)